Musketeers 1. A Late Arrival

**Hello there!**

**Thanks for checking out my story! I don****'****t own any of the characters but I am playing off a plot point of the BBC show The Musketeers- which I just cant get enough of! This is my first time writing for this series, and my first time returning to writing in a year, so let me know how I****'****m doing! I promise to update regularly as I am one step ahead of you ****J**

**So for now, I bid you adieu!**

"Well where in gods' green earth could that pompous windbag be at this hour!" King Louis the X111 of France whined to Captain Treville as he paced back and forth on the satin red rugs of his bed chambers.

Bowing his head so that the king could not see his exasperated expression, Treville offered yet another futile theory to subdue his king, "Perhaps it is the worsening weather your majesty?"

King Louis shook his head furiously from side to side, his black locks swinging around his face as he came to an abrupt halt and swivelled to face Treville, his hands on his hips, "I may have been inclined to think as such without quarrel, captain-" he began, pursing his lips in annoyance, "-however, you and I _both _know, that none of my guests live _so _far away that they should be an hour late! For the king no less!" he huffed in finality before commencing his demented pace once more.

Sighing at the immature outburst, Treville clasped his hands more firmly behind his back and continued to dredge up more creative excuses for his king, shaking his head minutely before staring up at the beautiful art painted across the chamber ceiling; and almost wishing he could trade places with one of the figurines.

Lord knows it was like working with an overgrown four year old holding such a position as the kings second. Even his best musketeers -who were troublesome at the best of times- didn't give him _nearly _as much ear ache as this particular baby-sitting task did.

"One cannot travel in haste if the journey is made treacherous, your majesty, even if the cause for such a brave endeavour is your splendid royal ball" Treville supplied, his attempt at flattery perhaps giving him an edge in the battle of words.

Taken off guard by the unseen compliment, King Louis slowed his tempered pace slightly and collapsed in his favourite golden crested armchair, the inflated pillows making a slight whooshing sound at the abuse.

"It would have been more splendid, mind you, had my guests decided to join us" he stated in a slightly more subdued attitude, pouting at the arm of the chair and settling on picking at a loose golden thread.

Rejoicing inwardly, Treville relaxed his stance and applauded himself on silencing his king, taking advantage of the peaceful moment to massage his left temple against his growing head ache and ponder on the whereabouts of his men.

Suddenly a booming knock rang through the chamber, echoing off the walls and interrupting the blissful silence- to Treville's great dismay.

King Louis reacted in an instant, jumping up from his chair, his eyes alight with glee, "Finally! They've arrived!" he announced and rushed from the room, taking a right down the carpeted hall towards the flight of marble stairs that lead to the large oak doors of the palace.

Within no time Treville witnessed from the balcony the marvellously dressed ladies and gentlemen of noble birth and royal connections were pouring through the grande entranceway doors, wearing the latest colourful fashion and delivering generous gifts to their king through the flustered servants.

Maids and butlers in black and white hastily bustled around to fulfil their every needs, offering silver platters of wine or cakes while the musicians began to play a beautifully slow piece to set the mood for the evening; the sparkling chandeliers above casting a subtle glow across the marble floors and golden walled décor and lighting up the ballroom below.

The king took to each guest like a bee to honey, greeting each one merrily with his heavily pregnant

Queen Anne in tow, a spectacle that easily mirrored one of a four year old boy giddily dragged his mother around by the arm.

Smiling slightly, Treville took to the stairs in attempt to shadow his king and meet up with his men whom had just entered; their black leather uniforms standing out against the hues of red, blue, white and yellow gowns that flooded the area.

Each wore a similar expression, slightly uncomfortable at the prospect of dealing with arrogant royals and slightly dismayed at being able to watch others drink food and wine but not have any for themselves.

As Treville finally caught up to the back of his king, he ushered a butler over to call for his mens' attendance by his side; as he himself could not leave his duties as body guard. Scanning the sea of painted faces and fluttering hand fans, Treville saw it would be quite some time before he caught a glimpse of his men again.

Sighing slightly, Treville sought comfort in the idea of how his men were as equally unpleasant about the ordeal, grinning at what it must feel like for them to have unlimited wine within their reach but not allowed to touch. He stifled a snicker at the thought as he swiped a passing glass and downed it before anyone could notice.

**I promise this story will pickup with more thrilling action from this point on, I just get very caught up in detail and plot establishment- so I hope I didn****'****t bore you too much!**

**It would mean the world to me if you reviewed!**


	2. The Silver Haired 'Woman'

**Special thanks again to those who reviewed and even the ones who didn't- I****'****ve noticed a lot of views & followers on this story so its keeping me highly motivated to say the least! I cant wait for you guys to see what I have in store so I****'****m going to update daily- I****'****ve been at this for about 8 hours straight since my wifi died- but hey this is productive right? Regardless, I****'****m loving it and I hope you are too !****J**

**Anyways, now onto the next chapter!**

It was the combination of sweet perfumes, foods and wines with the added element of two hundred, packed hot bodies that overwhelmed Athos' senses as he stepped through the doors with his brothers.

Giving a brief scan of the bustling room of activity is was obvious how much fun this evening was going to be he concluded dryly, not to mention how much harder their task of keeping an eye on their king and queen would be.

" Does anybody have a clear line of sight on their majesties?" Athos inquired as he bravely took the first steps through the sea of people towards a solitary wall near the back of the ballroom.

Following in his wake, Aramis took a quick glance around, "They're at our two o'clock down at the foot of the right stair case" he supplied, his keen eyes picking out the beautiful face of Queen Anne at her husbands side, a slight pang of woe coiling in his stomach.

"I don't see her-" D'artagnan countered, leaning his torso back and forth in an attempt to get a good angle around peoples heads, trying his best to spy their target while weaving through the crowd.

"That's because you're a short whelp" Porthos supplied teasingly from the back of their four man chain, clapping his hands on the back of D'artagnans' shoulders and walking him in the direction of Athos and Aramis before they could become separated. Getting lost in this mess would surely be a sentence for drowning alive in a mangle of limbs. Porthos shuddered at the thought.

"I wouldn't tease the boy if I were you Porthos, some day he will be much stronger and taller than all of us" Athos called over his shoulder as he continued to plough forwards, offering a slight smile to D'artagnan.

"Why do you insist on calling me a boy?" D'artagnan whined, completely ignoring the complement all together as they broke free from the outskirts of the large crowd towards 'the safe zone.'

Coming to a stop and resting their backs to the wall, Athos and Aramis both replied in unison, "Because you are," catching each others knowing glance with a grin that challenged D'artagnan to offer a retort.

D'artagnan rolled his eyes in exasperation and took a seat on an idle bench, Porthos coming to plop down beside him and draping a leather clad arm over his shoulder. "Don't mind them, they're just being immature because you beat them in a card game last night" he stated matter of factly, winking up at the two men mischievously.

Athos covered his true feelings of the night before with an indifferent expression while Aramis mouth dropped open as he took the bait.

"I am _not _being immature, im merely stating the truth Porthos" Aramis began in a slightly offended manner, "-And as to that card game, D'artagnan only won because Athos was too drunk to play and I was distracted by a beautiful maiden."

Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively Porthos added, "-I think you must have joined Athos in his cup then, brother, for I only saw men in that tavern... Perhaps you are referring to our cook?.. He does have longer silver hair after all and his beard was hardly noticeable in the half light-".

Before he could finish, Aramis' fuelled temper had caused him to half heartedly lunge at Porthos, intending to show his ill mannered, senseless friend a thing or two. How dare he suggest he had fallen for their cook! It was outrageous!

Porthos laughed heartily as Aramis swiping hands missed his jacket as Athos suddenly ripped him backwards by the collar, preventing a scene of any kind to unfold at such an event. The captain would be furious to say the least if Athos couldn't reign in his men within five minutes of stepping through the door.

"I'm sure that Porthos meant no offence by it Aramis, just a little humour is all" Athos soothed, shooting a cold glare towards Porthos that immediately sobered his teasing attitude and held him in line.

Offering a truce, Porthos clapped Aramis on the shoulder and with a serious tone apologized, "Yeah, 'course" - though the slight twinkle in his eyes alluded to his true intentions. Aramis seemed to deflate at this and nestled back into the wall, straightening his hat and shaking his head in disapproval.

"And you said I was the immature one" D'artagnan dared, grinning at his comrades before turning towards the ball so they could not reply.

**Hope you liked it as much as I did! I try to add a little humour to everything I write since it****'****s who I am- I don****'****t know exactly if it worked, but hey, it was better than describing a golden laced chair ;) - so expect more of it, sorry? ;)**

**I promise this story will pick up, bare with me! ;) Leave a review please! **


	3. The Pie Snatcher

**So I became impatient and wanted to post another chapter today, so that's two chapters in a row, I hope you're liking the story so far! ****J**

It was now or never, strike or give it up entirely, he couldn't waste any more time or he would simply waste away.

Porthos eyed the oncoming butlers silver platter as if he hadn't eaten in years, the beautifully stacked selection of food that no rich snob dared to scarf down- due to the eyes of others-was just begging to be eaten!

He could just shuffle up to the butler as if to pass him and swipe the delicious treats from the tray as he walked past in an arc and then return to his position and watch over the ball.

No one would notice, surely!

Besides, he couldn't think on an empty stomach! How was he supposed to be fit for duty if he couldn't think straight, he reasoned.

The butler came waddling ever closer, unaware of Porthos eyeing his platter like a predator on the prowl as he began to innocently wander towards him, seemingly looking in awe at the paintings on the opposite wall.

Closer, closer, then BAM. Got one!

Porthos almost felt like celebrating. And no one had been any the wiser, making his victory all the more glorious.

He held the heavenly smelling pie in the palm of his hand as he began to circle the ten paces back to the bench where he had left his comrades to chatter boringly about the upcoming storm.

Raising his treat to his nose, Porthos inhaled the heavenly scent, his mouth watering at what it would taste like before popping it in his mouth -and chewing air.

Porthos blinked and looked down at his hand to see only his open palm below his chin.

Looking around bewildered, he noticed Athos walking back towards Aramis and D'artagnan, munching on _something _and wiping his hands together.

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, his face setting like stone, Porthos darted over to Athos who merely smiled at his smugly. His other brothers taking notice of his rushed return and eyed his stony expression with curiosity.

"You did not just do what I think you did, Athos" Porthos growled threateningly, locking his eyes onto Athos' half lidded, cool blues.

Athos smirked, "You know better than to eat on the job, Porthos, I was merely punishing you for stealing beverages on the job while demonstrating the need to be alert of your surroundings. You would be wise to take my advise" he finished smugly.

Unable to comprehend the audacity of his leader and friend, Porthos mouth hung open limply. The only indication- besides shock- that Porthos had heard Athos, was the twitching of his left eye.

"I could take a look at that twitch for you- if it bother you Porthos" Aramis stated, his tone serious but his eyes twinkling mischievously, exacting his revenge on his brother now that their roles were reversed.

Porthos' head swivelled between Athos and Aramis to glare at them both menacingly, though they both remained un-phased and instead slightly amused.

"Growing up on a farm, I've learnt never to leave my mouth hanging open lest a fly nestle inside" D'artagnan hinted, Porthos closing his mouth quickly with an audible snap of his teeth.

The three brothers snickered as Porthos stomach rumbled.

Their fun was quickly interrupted however by a butler carrying orders to meet Captain Treville by 'the west wing stairs promptly to discuss their shifts for this evening.'

One by one they embarked across the dance floor, doing a dance of their own just to avoid oncoming elbows flying at their faces and polished heels from descending on vulnerable feet, until finally they reached a tiresome looking Captain Treville- of whom did not bother to hide his amusement at Porthos' scowl.

Upon discussing their rotating positions of two men on the dance floor, two on opposite ends of the balcony above, and the times in which to change, the four men once again departed to fulfil their duties.

Each became a little more sombre now that they only had their minds with which to amuse themselves with for the next few hours. Oh the joys of being a kings musketeer.

Half an hour had gone by since the beginning of the event and all was running smoothly- or at least it appeared to be running smoothly- for one could hardly tell if anything disastrous was happening, due to all the twirling couples dancing, loud band playing, gossiping, eating and clinking of wine glasses.

This meant that all were oblivious to the coming storm outside, the merriment and warmth of the indoors a most pleasant distraction to the sleeting hail and strong winds that continued to climb outside.

However, there was no reason to be alarmed, the kings' musketeers were all present and ready for anything at all times- and as a plus all the guests were fed, warm and remaining entertained. All was well.

Alas it could always be worse-as it was about to be…

**Yay, a cliff-hanger! Im sure we just love those! ;) I know I hate them, but I have a lot in store yet- we haven****'****t even met the main plot- cruel I know!**

**Please leave a review! Thanks ;)**


	4. Should Have Seen It Coming

**Be warned, this chapter is not nearly as humorous as the others and contains quite a long depressing tale from Aramis' p.o.v. I hope you don****'****t mind the change in pace but we have to start this plot conflict somewhere, right? ;)**

From his perch on the second floor balcony, Aramis had a clear view of all the bustling activity below, feeling slightly detached as he marvelled and judged at how different they all were from himself and the world he lived in.

Aramis could never understand how someone could lead such a privileged life and yet only care for their own prospects, their immense riches and power used and abused for selfish purposes as they continued to remain completely ignorant of the outside world.

How could they live so live freely and yet keep themselves caged by their status?

They were walking contradictions as far as he was concerned, yet they remained happily unaware of their true state as the continued to abuse what they could while trying to hide behind false images of kindness set by society- of which everyone saw through regardless.

They were all the same and weren't worth the effort- all but one that was.

Aramis honed his sights in on the one such person, the diamond in the rough, a woman of both great status _and _kindness of whom presently stood loyally by her husbands side.

It was her generosity and kindness alone that had stolen his heart months ago and continued to hold him under her spell.

Aramis knew that for her, he would travel to the ends of the earth just to keep her happy and safe- a promise which he knew was why he could not allow himself to venture too near her presence, as it ran the risk that perhaps one day he may lose his patience or wits and attempt to save her from the arranged marriage she found herself ensnared in.

Had it been any other woman he _may _have risked it all just to remain at her side but alas, her unique position demanded that she stay apart from him.

And so it was through his utmost respect for her decision and responsibilities as her Majesty, Queen Anne, that he loved her from afar.

Though this battle of wits with his own mind continued to rage on day and night, Aramis had never regretted the short time he had had with her that night long ago, even if it had left them both dangerously compromised.

The child she now carried was theirs and would no doubt become the heir to the throne someday, leaving the royal bloodline tainted forever, though no one were any the wiser but his confidant and brother, Athos.

Of course, he had _never _intended his selfish actions to leave such a significant impact on the people of France; his romantic tendencies and notoriety for disarming the opposite sex with his charms never leaving him to think of changing his ways- though in this unique case he had attempted nothing of the sort.

Looking back to his days of 'innocence,' Aramis fondly recalled many a night he could be found escorting an attractive woman on romantic date, or else telling long tales to his comrades in the local tavern about his humorous dealings with their husbands.

However, it was when his duty lead him to cross paths the lost love of his youth, only to have her die in his arms that Aramis was reminded that not all love was so giving and kind, his emotional distress leaving him to spiral into misery.

It was in this weakened state that Queen Anne, the woman whom he had been protecting, had sought to comfort him in some way.

There had always been a certain connection between the two, something similar in tales of woe, wisdom and kindness that they shared like no other, using their power over others to be protect and care for rather than abuse or destroy.

Therefore it came as little surprise that night, months ago, that Aramis had slept with the queen- much to Athos' horror.

And now here he stood, torn between two realities, one true, the other a charade as he watched over his queen from afar as he must always stay, his shoulders feeling the constant burden of what his moment of weakness would now mean for her safety as well as the empire of France.

It tore him apart inside that he may never hold his unborn child in his own hands nor visit to see how they would grow nor offer his guidance or support as normal fathers would.

It was enough that he must bare to watch his beautiful queen waste away her youth in this prison of a palace and only stare at his soul mate from afar as he did her. It was such a cruel world.

Aramis took a shaky breath as he tried to drown out his sorrows, brushing a gloved hand through his greasy black curls, before setting his hat down on the railing and looking out at the ball once more.

He was supposed to appear merry, he could not have guests questioning his miserable attitude nor could he risk the suspicion of Porthos or D'artagnan. The shame and horror he would feel from their reactions would be a devastating blow he could not handle in such a public place.

And so he pulled his mask back into place as he had done these past months, building himself up to be strong and mighty as were expected of the kings musketeers.

They would all be fine, they would all get through this just fine Aramis reasoned.

It was agony that yes, he may not be able to touch his secret family, but at least he could watch, protect, take comfort in the fact that his unborn child would be well cared for, educated and have all the opportunities in the world ahead of them.

His lovely Queen Anne was the one and only choice with whom he trusted to see that his child be raised well- and he would protect them both every step of the way. That was all he could really ask for right?

With Athos' loyal, undying support in his times of uncontrollable misery, Aramis found small comfort and happiness, if the Queen of France could hold up such a big masquerade, while carrying the child of another and enjoy a ball all at the same time, then damn it all, he sure as hell would.

And with that, Aramis slowly began to feel the pressure ease back off his shoulders once more, feeling truly happy since they had come to the palace, despite his earlier jokes with his brothers.

Unfortunately for Aramis, his gradual assent towards a more happier, optimistic outlook was cut short by a sudden shriek from below, followed by a slight commotion in the area of their royal majesties.

Aramis heart froze in his chest, as a lead feeling filled the pit of his stomach, his keen eyes desperately searching for Queen Anne alongside her flustered King Louis.

Racing down the stairs, mirroring the actions of D'artagnan on the opposite staircase, Aramis silently punished his wandering eyes and self obsessed woes moments before. He had not been paying attention! This was his fault! How could he have been so careless! -his mind screamed.

As Aramis reached the scene of commotion at the same time as his brothers, Athos took charge and demanded a head count of the people in their protection; that being the majesties, their maids and three family royals.

As each musketeer set upon their difficult task of tracking faces between the now slightly bewildered looking guests, Athos took the time to notice Treville was not there to help them.

Even more alarming, Queen Anne had gone missing…

**DUN DUN DUUUUUN! XD ****…****Where is Anne? Was she kidnapped? Stabbed and lying on the floor unseen? Taking a walk to get some fresh air? Simply escorted by a butler to the bathroom? ;D****…****..Sorry, another cliff-hanger I know- but I have to put action in here somewhere, don****'****t I? ;)**

**I know there have been a lot of visitors for this, so id really appreciate it if you left a review before you go, it would really make my day!- and thanks to the continued support of those leaving reviews, favouriting and following! You guys rock!**


	5. Not Is All As It Seems

**I****'****d just like to say Happy Holidays!- and best wishes to those reviewing, or simply reading this. Whatever your holiday style/religion, we are all having the same amount of time off work/school to relax, regardless of activities, so I hope you****'****re all having fun ****J**** If not, and you****'****re bored, well, I hope this measly story is able to entertain you in the least ;)**

Five minutes of searching faces can feel like forever when you're in a dire situation such as the musketeers were.

Queen Anne had seemingly disappeared into thin air from her husbands side, the only indication that it had occurred had been the shriek of surprise mingled with worry that had brought all ears in the immediate vicinity to peer over and spot the source of the commotion.

Only to find nothing.

Heart in his throat, every nerve in his body tingling with adrenaline fuelled dread, D'artagnans' agile body allowed him to dash from the scene quicker than his brothers.

Branching out seemed to be the best solution to such a disaster, covering more ground, in less time was the least he could do to help.

And what better way to do that than to reach the second floor to scan all faces at once down below?

Admittedly it would still be tricky due to the sheer number of guests attending, but D'artagnan had a solution for that too, simply call their attention with some spectacle or other than drew their attention.

Nothing that may hint anything hideous may have happened to Queen Anne of course, merely announcing raffle numbers- that were in the process of being handed out.

It was slightly deceiving, he knew, and may cause a commotion later, but it was a small risk he was well willing to use to his advantage.

Prepared to round the corner to stand on the overhanging balcony lying between the two descending staircases to put his plan into action, D'artagnans' attention was suddenly caught by the two double doors that were swinging on their hinges madly.

Someone had been through here in a hurry. But was it Queen Anne?

Taking a second to flounder madly at his brothers in the crowd down below and alert their attention to his findings, D'artagnan dashed away once more, through the double doors to pursue their runner.

As he ran, D'artagnan tried to logically piece together how someone had managed to get up the staircase, past his position on the balcony to the doors behind him.

How could he have missed someone coming towards him up the stairs at such a pace and escape through the doors?

The only time he hadn't been watching was when he'd spotted _his _woman, Constance among the crowd below and offered her pleasantly surprised face the inclination of his head and a slight bow.

She had attended with her husband of course, of whom supplied the Queen and her maidens some exquisitely tailored, royal ball gowns- as was his business, thus leading to their invitation.

To his horror, D'artagnan concluded that is must have been this foolish blunder that had lead to the distraction of a life time.

How could he have been so selfish to have neglected his guard duty for even a moment to ogle at his untouchable lover, he would see that he accepted full responsibility and punishment that came with such behaviour, D'artagnan vowed miserably.

By the time D'artagnan had made peace with his faults he had reached the end of the long, eerily quiet hallway, coming to an intersecting hallway that ran both left and right.

Pausing long enough to slow his breath and hear his surroundings, D'artagnan hungrily eyed both direction for clues while straining his ears for any sounds of fleeing criminals or queens in peril.

All it took was a barely heard, and noticeably subdued yell off to his right and D'artagnan took off again, his brothers boots now only steps behind, straining to keep up.

Reaching the end of the short hallway, D'artagnan noticed in surprise that they were heading to the king and queens bed chambers.

Drawing his sword from his sheath in anticipation of battle, D'artagnan booted down the golden encrusted oak doors to find- Queen Anne sat on the end of her bed, now dressed in only her nightgown with Captain Treville standing by her side…

**I imagine at this cliff hanger you are all mildly surprised to say the least, what is Captain Treville doing in the royal bed chambers? Why is Queen Anne dressed in nightly attire? Why all the commotion before hand at the ball? **

**I assure you, though it may seem implied, nothing sexy is or was about to happen between the two ;) We all know who Queen Anne really loves****…****but the musketeers don****'****t know what is going on now do they? ;)**

**Please leave a review! Thanks ****J**


	6. A New Problem

**I****'****m back to update, yes twice in a day- again. Im at least 6 chapters ahead you see and would really like you to be on the same page as me (both physically and mentally) so I shan****'****t wait any longer, its time to get this party started! **

**Thank you all for the heart warming reviews and continued support from my viewers/followers/guests as usual! You guys seriously make my day! 3 I hope this longer chapter helps to clarify things ;)**

"Athos, Aramis, D'artagnan!?"

Athos offered his apologies to a stunned looking Queen Anne and Captain Treville, backing away slightly, hands raised outwards as if to say, 'just stay here' before dashing back out of the bed chambers to stop Porthos from calling out their names -and help him escort the king back to his queen, with whom they had left the musketeer to protect.

Returning to the room, Athos, Porthos and King Louis all looked just as mentally exhausted as those who waited inside, the general atmosphere remaining tense until a damn good explanation could be offered. Treville stood up to the plate as per usual.

"I can explain, your majesty-" he began, arms outstretched in apology, lines of concern crinkling his eyes, his brows knitted together in all seriousness.

The king moved forwards suddenly as if to act, but was disarmed by the following weight of the words Treville uttered.

"Your highness has gone into labour, I thought it wise to escort her from the ballroom as quickly as possible without endangering her well being or the baby's…"

"I realize this lack of communication was stupendously inconsiderate of me and I beg of your forgiveness, my liege, but it was with my best intentions that I lead Queen Anne here -and dress her in soothing attire" he finished with a nervous swallow and a bow.

Treville realized what this dark scene may conjure in ones mind if given enough opportunity to wander and assume and so he hoped he had done a good job of convincing the king otherwise, lest his head become separated from his neck with a sharpened utensil.

Everyone stood frozen in the room, the only sounds now coming from Queen Anne herself as she propped back on her elbows, her face clearly taught with pain, gasping quietly as her gaze roamed from one stunned man to another.

Her patience ran out when no man could overcome his surprise at her situation and offer a humorous sentiment that would seek to conclude the tense atmosphere of "almost-disastrous situation" with "it's all fine now" and so took matters into her own clenched fists.

"If you are all quite finished trading looks of horror, would one of you be kind enough as to fetch the surgeon whom may aid me in my current predicament?" she finished frostily as pain spiked once again throughout her abdomen.

She was no longer in the mood for pleasantries, and so long as she could talk, they should prepare to share her misery unless they retrieved aid immediately.

Snapping out of his trance first, Treville took his kings' silence as acceptance for 'stealing his queen' and once again assumed control of the situation, "D'artagnan, would you please seek out the nearest surgeon for you royal majesty, Queen Anne, with utmost haste."

His tone held unquestioning authority and demanded utmost obedience- though of course always held a soft edge towards close friends- even if they were under his command.

D'artagnan blushed at his intrusion on the queen in her current state and attire, apologizing with a deep bow and promising a hasty return with a surgeon, before dashing off once more.

Porthos thought to make a joke at how D'artagnan would have earned a great living at being a delivery boy- what with his speed- but thought the better of it given the seriousness of the moment and so bit his lip instead.

Treville misread Porthos' actions as guilt and clapped him on the shoulder, "Cheer up man, all is well-" he began while turning Porthos around towards the door, beckoning with his other hand to Athos and Aramis.

"Let us leave your majesties a moment alone in this intimate moment and see if we can help our friend, D'artagnan, in his task, shall we?" Treville suggested.

And with that the four men left the king and his queen alone in the room, walking a short way down the hall before coming to a stop and throwing all polite mannerisms out of the window now that they could not be judged.

Each man held the look of guilt for failing their duties to guard the queen; even though it had turned out her life was not at risk by outlaws, she had been taken from their protection none the less.

Treville seemed to have expected this of course, knowing by now the complexities of his men in and out, as should any captain, and had collected the three remaining men here to help extinguish what had gone unsaid.

"I don't want to hear about how you failed at your duties, nor do I want to see any of you drinking yourself senseless over your worth-" he eyed Athos at this, "I understand what I put you all through and I apologize for that, but these were not normal circumstances-" Treville continued, turning to look at Porthos.

"-I highly doubt many criminals would have established such a successful 'get away' as I- for it was my close proximity to the queen and my expertise knowledge of how to swiftly evacuate areas, that left me unnoticed-" he stated, looking at Aramis.

"-I am confident that each of you would have seen _and _caught any culprit who would have even _attempted _the same, so you need not worry. I have _complete _faith in you and your abilities. And that should be enough." Treville finished, staring at each man individually to ensure the meaning of his words had sunk in and were accepted.

Only brief seconds had passed thus far between the men, but the importance of having a conversation that gave such closure was still just as important.

Treville had learned the hard way that men who were broken up inside were no more useful than injured men and with the ball now compromised as its hosts had bluntly vanished, he would need his men to help regain order.

With this newly instilled sense of purpose, solidarity and confidence boost, he was sure his men would be more mentally alert; though as an aside it made him feel better as their friend that they remained light spirited in their often dark work.

A muffled groan of pain coming from the chambers interrupted the intimate moment and returned the men to the emergency still at hand.

There was little they could do now besides restore order among guests and bid them adieu- a somewhat 'silver lining' to the exhausted musketeer regiment no doubt.

And so Treville gave Athos, Aramis and Porthos the instructions they needed to carry out what they were meant to do and take their mind off of any guilt ridden thoughts they may have had while each counted the minutes it took for D'artagnan's arrival.

As Athos headed for the main doors through which he could prepare each guests' departure he mulled over what the night may hold.

He supposed in the best of scenarios, D'artagnan would appear soon, with surgeon in hand, ready to relieve the queen of her pain and deliver a healthy baby.

In the worst of scenarios, no such aid would show- in which case, it would be a very long night for everyone, indeed.

Athos frowned at the thought as he handed a mink coat to a particularly rude woman with the most hideous combination of a yellow and green frilled dress he had ever seen.

As she toddled outside on her stiff fat legs, a particular large gust of wind almost knocked her off her feet and into the mud that stood between the door and her carriage.

Athos would have smiled at the sight if not for what these conditions could mean for the hasty retrieval of the surgeon.

Peering upwards under the brim of his hat, Athos saw the sky to be menacingly black; thunderous booms echoing across the open gardens as the high winds whipped grit and dead leaves into the eyes of onlookers.

Despite the heavy pelting of rain that only seemed to fall harder, the air was humid and forebode of further bad tidings.

Athos' expression took on that of worry, though he was confident D'artagnan would not let his surgeon rest until he was at the queens' bedside, this weather may not permit as hasty a journey as they may need.

Stepping inside once more, Athos tried to remain optimistic. Surely D'artagnan would get here before the storm hit full force, he had to. Or else.

**I hope you guys liked it! My brain sort of turned off a third of the way through writing this chapter due to leaving the story for an hour and losing my 'vibes,' so I hope its not too rocky to read****…**

**Please leave a review! Thanks! **


	7. Makeshift Doctor

**Thank you for your reviews!**

**~ Your humble servant ;)**

It was eerily silent in the palace now that the guests were all gone, the sudden emptiness once full of life was now quiet as a grave leaving a hollow, lonely feeling in its place.

In addition to this, most of the lamp lights had been snuffed out by the servants, finding it wiser to conserve the candle sticks for a future date when they were actually being used.

And so each hall was illuminated periodically by the fierce strikes of lightening encroaching on the palace walls, each strike louder, brighter and closer than the last as the storm raged on outside.

The seemingly peaceful moments in between each strike returned the palace to its dismal self, while the thick, inky blackness of night swallowed up the interior, corner by corner, creeping slowly into each new room and consuming it whole like a cat would prey on an unassuming bird.

Add to this the muffled moans and groans that echoed through these dormant black halls and one may assume the dead still haunted the premises.

Of course, when one is accompanied by the fiercest musketeers Paris had to offer within these lonesome walls, it makes sleeping at night a little more bearable, not that anyone could due to the circumstances, but it was a comforting thought at this ungodly hour.

This concept of 'lying down their lives to save the life of another' didn't exactly comfort Queen Anne however, as her labour progressed painfully over the hour with nothing but pillows and glasses of water to aid her descent into misery.

The presence of the storm was gradually taking its toll on everyone's mentality, the longer the absence of D'artagnan and the surgeon, the more tense, unhappy and worried everyone else became.

Daring another glimpse out into the hail, Aramis opened up the large front entrance and stuck his head out of the door, doing his best to keep his eyes open through the onslaught to perhaps catch a glimpse of their saviour.

Nothing but cold, empty blackness was waiting to greet his sight.

Aramis quickly pulled his head back in through the open door and closed it, turning to face his brothers and shaking his head to confirm what they already knew. D'artagnan was not coming back.

Whether this was because he had not found a surgeons' lodgings or he had become stranded in the storm, no one knew, but regardless of his situation, time was of the essence and they needed a surgeon, fast.

In the time that grew, the musketeers continued to do what little they could to ease the pain of the queen while they attempted to construct back up plans, should D'artagnan not arrive in time. Unfortunately, this endeavour was proving fruitless as each witty musketeer in turn, had all found some hole or fault in each others plan, getting them no where and fuelling their frustration.

"Perhaps one of us should go out there after him?" Porthos suggested again, feeling uneasy about leaving D'artagnan out alone to brave the elements.

Athos shook his head sadly, " I am sorry my friend, but we are limited in numbers here, we cannot afford to lose another valuable asset to this storm. If something goes wrong-"

"Something has _already _gone wrong, Athos!" Aramis corrected harshly, stalking off towards the queens chambers once more to check on her deteriorating health as was his new duty. The others waited by the door and watched him go, feeling sympathy for their brother who it seemed could take the waiting game no longer.

As he paced back and forth outside the chamber, Aramis accepted that he was coming to his wits end the longer time crept on.

Problem after problem stacking upon his shoulders until he felt he would shatter into little pieces as he could see no silver lining nor plausible solution to their nerve biting situation.

For once in his life, Aramis realized that he did not have to power within him to resolve an issue, and it scared the hell out of him.

That and the fact that the love of his life was currently in intolerable pain, his unborn child was in great danger and his dear friend, D'artagnan had gone missing in a storm, and it was all his fault.

They were all pretty good reasons to get upset from his point of view, so damn pleasantries and idle talk, Aramis wanted answers and for the love of all things mighty he would find a way to save his queen and his child.

Making up his mind, he burst into the queens chambers, surprising King Louis- whom looked worse for wear with stray locks hung about it all directions completing his dishevelled appearance.

The queen, his queen, Anne, was now lying on her side upon the mattress, a sheen of sweat covering her body and making her shiver slightly, her legs propped apart by a pillow and breathing shallowly into the sheets. One fist clenched into the bed sheets, the other squeezing tightly to her husbands hand, as she sought some relief from the never ending pain, the tears in her eyes begging someone, anyone to end this cruel torment.

Aramis heart went out to her, he could not bear to see her like this, and so he strode over to the bed, his mixed look of certainty, confidence and determination consoling the kings' distress and allowing him to approach the queen so he may help save his poor wife.

As a first order of business, Aramis stripped himself of his jacket and placed it across her trembling frame. She caught his eyes then, conveying so much emotion in a single glance that could never be translated to words.

Aramis nodded once and knelt along side the bed, taking her other hand, blatantly disregarding whatever the king may think of this gesture.

"I have some medical knowledge-" Aramis began, his voice strained as he watched her lying immobile in pain, his eyes becoming hot and his throat swelling painfully. "P-please, just tell me how to do this" he pleaded, holding her pale hand to frantically beating heart, her eyes meeting his.

"Please."

**AGH The Feel Monsters have struck again with their onion peels ****L**** I****'****m the one writing this and yet I struck myself, odd isn****'****t it how powerful writing and reading can be. Oh well, till next time!  
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**Please leave a review! They are wonderfully motivational! *hugs***


	8. Preparations

**Thanks so much for the continued support: ie: followers/reviews! You guys are amazing! **

**Here****'****s a long intense chapter for your continued support! **

**Warning, this does get pretty dark, and though I share no graphic imagery of the sort, it does hint to what is happening. I do hope you like it.**

With the final preparations put in place as Queen Anne had instructed, Athos, Porthos, Treville and his Royal Majesty, King Louis XIII all stepped into the bed chamber to join Aramis and the Queen.

At this point, no one found this social bedroom gathering awkward nor inappropriate in the slightest; a testament to their unique, intimate relationships with one another, being far too mature for such petty concepts to even register as 'wrong.'

Instead, this moment was regarded as a much needed comfort for each soul present as each man and woman had earned the trust of the other over the years and had come to learn that they would always be stronger as a group than they ever could apart.

Sharing a knowing glance with one another to boost their collective confidence, Treville gave a nod to Aramis and headed out of the room without a word.

Feeling lost, the king hung back and flailed his arms dramatically, suggesting method after method of how to battle this "pregnancy ordeal" and recalling some treatments he'd heard doctors use for pregnancies.

All of these treatments ranged from idiotic: "rapid exercise relieves pressure and is a pleasant distraction" to just plain dumb: "eating honey can loosen the insides" almost guaranteeing their chances of being avoided at all costs.

Louis continued to ramble on in this manner, until finally, Treville entered once more and politely removed him from the room, while everyone smiled and nodded their thanks at his somewhat humorous advice.

Before departing, Porthos clasped Athos' hand and then Aramis before wrapping them both up into a tight bear hug -as Porthos commonly did when he felt the need to convey deeper, more sincere emotions through physical interaction- after which he too left to follow the others.

The stakes were immensely high for everyone.

If this procedure went wrong in any way there would be dire consequences. If the queen may die, then so too would the heir of France and the Kings entire family.

Aramis would surely never forgive what he could not save this night; and though it would not be his fault, he would most likely resort to his suicidal tendencies his brothers had known he held within him since the tragedy in Savoy.

In addition to this, Aramis would suffer at the hands of the French governments' law and most likely hang for his actions; regardless of his kings' wishes should he choose not to execute him for failing to save his wife and child.

From here of course, Treville would lose his rank and perhaps his position in the kings musketeers based on his inability to protect the queen as his duty decreed and his association with her death. Despite his skill, his name would no doubt ruin his status and all credibility, leaving him without coin as a desperate old man.

Porthos and Athos would lose themselves if they could not save Aramis from his spiralling depression or death, and most likely retire from the regiment and either go back to a life of crime- destroying any happy prospects- or a life of wine and depression, which was no life at all.

As it was known throughout the regiment, most musketeers depended on each others as if brothers, for they were the only family they had left.

This was also true for Aramis, Porthos, Athos and D'artagnan and so with no family of brothers left to surround each other with, one by one they would crumble and succumb to a terrible end.

The only one to 'escape' such a loss was D'artagnan- though no doubt he would suffer _miserably _as his brothers -and indeed only family- crumbled around him; that is if this storm hadn't 'taken care of him'…

And so they _must _prevail.

Queen Anne of France _must _see another dawn.

And her only child _must _survive the birth -or else all was truly lost.

Athos and Aramis shared that they were well aware of all of this in a long single glance, supporting each other through a deep bond all musketeers developed.

Aramis broke the moment and took a shaky breath, before eying his lover, Anne, kissing her hand and helping her to lay her swollen body out comfortably, Athos giving them room but standing his ground should they need any assistance.

"I believe I am meant to check how you are progressing" Aramis began sheepishly, motioning to Anne what he intended.

Blushing slightly but comprehending the importance of the task, Anne put her full trust in Aramis, accepting and following his every instruction so that he may help her through his practise of medicine.

Athos ventured to the window to give the now doctor and patient a little privacy. There was really nothing to see out there now but the rain sliding down the black pane.

His gut twisted tightly at the thought of his young friend out there somewhere, though he had not mentioned his worries since D'artagnans departure, he was not as completely heartless as most believed.

He felt terribly useful and guilty in truth, for he was obviously of no real use here and should have been the one to make the journey.

He would never forgive himself if D'artagnan had gotten hurt out there, trapped in the storm, no brothers to support or comfort him.

Athos shook his head of the dark thoughts, no, D'artagnan was bright, he would find a way past this pathetic weather. He had strength and stamina, else he would be no musketeer. Athos had faith in the boy.

From behind him, Anne suddenly cried out and Athos fought the instinctive urge to turn, knowing his friend would know what he was doing more than he.

After an unnerving moment of silence there was a loud thump behind him and Athos could no longer hold back, turning he was shocked to see Aramis sitting on the wooden floor, looking lost and pale as parchment.

Darting to his friends side, Athos gently grabbed a-hold of his friends trembling shoulders and took a moment to contain his friend.

" 'M sorry, got a lil' dizzy" Aramis supplied, slurring his words slightly, his confidence obviously having deserted him momentarily and left him reeling.

Athos wiped the sweat of Aramis' brow with the back of his white sleeve, and gave him a hushed noise, bracing his black with his knees in a somewhat cradled position.

From the bed, Anne had lain back with a gasp to tackle a moment of pain, trusting her musketeers were finalizing some kind of method out of her line of sight.

"You can do this Aramis, I know you can. You've sown us all up hundreds of time, hell brought us back from the brink of death, so surely you can dredge one to life" Athos assured, his statement interpreted rather as a fact than a question.

In a moment of weakness, Aramis looked up to Athos, " B-but what I-if I kill them Athos" he whispered, almost not daring to say it aloud lest it come true some how. "I ca-cannot do this Athos" he almost begged.

Athos shook his head violently and gripped his friend more tightly to ground him before he lost his mind to madness.

"No Aramis, you will not kill them. You will save them. You must. If you do not, then they are guaranteed to die. Are you prepared to give in and let that happen?" Athos challenged, forcing Aramis to show strength.

"No-" Aramis whispered. "I beg your pardon?" Athos pretended, "NO" Aramis repeatedly, finding his voice and his confidence. Athos let free his mask to show Aramis a true warm smile and encourage much needed action, pulling his pale friend to his feet and escorting him to Anne.

Kneeling back into position, Aramis shared a look first with Athos, then with Anne, taking in a deep steady breath before letting it all out, determination setting in, the solider in him coming out for battle, prepared to go all the way.

" Okay Anne, it is time to push" Aramis instructed. And so it began.

**I honestly hope that wasn****'****t too dark for you guys, I generally don****'****t analyze depressing situations to such an extent that life looks so bleak and miserable but I felt the need to convey the level of intensity****…**

**Any how, I did leave you on another cliff hanger didn****'****t I?****…**

**This time I****'****m not sorry ;) I will post the next chapter soon, I promise!**


	9. Come Hell or High Water

**Thank you for all the support and reviews, I****'****m really proud of this story so far. I****'****ve honestly not had many last this long or accomplish so much, so thank you so much for the motivation once again! **

**Love you guys! This chapter finally catches up to our beloved D****'****artagnan, what could he have possibly been up to for so long!?**

(FLASHBACK 3 HOURS EARLIER)

It had been a dangerous trek back into the centre of town from the majesties palace; the unseen potholes covered over with mud and strewn twigs making it impossible to ride faster than a trot should D'artagnan risk injury to his horse or himself.

It left for a stressful journey, as he could neither take the caution to slow down, nor could he waste any time for the queens sake- and possibly his own in this worsening storm.

It was to D'artagnans utmost delight that he finally spotted a lanterns light thirty paces ahead through the sleet and dark night, a symbol for hope if there had ever been one.

Though he wasn't exactly pleased with the half hour it took to blindly find his way here, he would have to accept it for what it was and make use of his time finding the blasted, seemingly invisible surgeon.

Reigning his mount to a halt outside the stable, D'artagnan hopped down- and _conveniently _landed in what felt like the biggest rain filled pot hole in all of France.

D'artagnan let out a vile torrent of curses as he stepped out of the large mud puddle, feeling the need to kick it to inflict some revenge- though of course that would be pointless.

It was as if he was destined for bad luck! As soon as he thought he had struck lucky with warm feet in dry boots, a puddle had magically conjured itself below this very spot and invited him in for a swim. D'artagnan was not amused.

Tying his horse up in the dry stables which offered idle hay upon its floor, D'artagnan squelched over to the weathered door of an inn, swinging it wide and relishing in the warmth the shelter provided.

"No, no, no, no, no! I'll not have a giant puddle on the inside of my house, thank you very much" came a croaking call of an elderly woman from a counter to his left.

Heedless of her instruction, D'artagnan drank in the sight of the small but cozy in as heat began to settle back into his bones and cause goose bumps to form all over.

The inn itself was constructed of old wooden logs instead of bricks- as was common for the poorer folk, but seemed sturdy enough to hold its own against any weather. As for the interior of the inn, it split directly in two, with a staircase dead ahead, a large fireplace and small public tables to his left in the main room and a crudely built stone kitchen peeking out from a partially walled off area on his right.

" Are you dumb son? I said git' those darned boots off lest I take you by the ear! I aint going to have any disobedience from my guests, I don't care how good your coin is!" the old woman hollered through all of her five rotten teeth, drawing D'artagnans attention back to the present.

"Oh, uh, yes, I apologize sincerely ma'am. I lost myself there for a moment. I'm having a rough day you could say" D'artagnan fumbled, feeling like an insolent child as he hobbled around trying to maintain his balance and dignity while struggling to get his suctioning boots off.

"Yes, I can see that, I ain't blind like you may think" the woman countered sharply. "Now do you want a room or not, I'm up past my bed time and id rather like to get under warm blankets monsieur."

D'artagnan resisted the urge to sass the lady or roll his eyes as he would have under natural circumstances, but tonight was not the night.

"Um, actually no ma'am. You see, I've been sent here to seek out the local surgeon, I-"

"You don't seem injured" the woman rudely interrupted, eyeballing him suspiciously with beady, watery eyes.

D'artagnan held back a sigh of frustration, " You're correct ma'am, you see ive been sent here to _retrieve _a surgeon" he finished, emphasizing his goal so she could not argue with him.

"Oh, well there isn't any surgeons in here right now. We're all out I suppose" she joked, her dark humour not helping D'artagnan in the slightest.

Resisting the growing urge to pick up his sodden boot and launch it at her ugly, wrinkled face, D'artagnan held fast. "Well would you happen to know where I could find one? Its important" he insisted, tone serious and completely dropping the ma'am. This woman, thing, was definitely no lady- of decency at least.

" Perhaps…I may be forgetting the exaaact where abouts" she hinted, rolling her crooked eyes skywards. Shovelling his hands through his pockets, D'artagnans cold fingers seized what he assumed was a handful of coin and al but threw it at her.

"WHERE?" he demanded fiercely. She took a step back but continued to scowl, giving his the surgeons address, to which he more than happily departed to.

The surgeon being a man of academic achievement and caring persona was quick to hear D'artagnans desperate tale and accompany him on his journey back to the palace, without the slightest hesitation to D'artagnans gratefulness.

After gathering bountiful supplies and packing a small cart, with accompanying horses, the duo set off at a daringly fast pace in the general direction of the palace, hoping they would get their in time.

They had reached perhaps a third of the way there when suddenly the cart hit a muddy rut and there was a loud SNAP as the back axle of the cart suddenly gave way.

The broken axle quickly triggered the supplies inside to slide to the right and put an overwhelming amount of pressure on the right wheel, thus snapping it off the axle completely and causing the entire rig to list dangerously before overbalancing completely.

It was all over in a matter of seconds. D'artagnan couldn't believe it. He had one task and it seemed like everything under the power of the sun wanted to prevent him from completing his mission. It was almost laughable but D'artagnan felt more like dropping to his knees and giving up.

But he refused. He would get them through this pathetic storm, else he shouldn't be called a musketeer. He was being counted on and by god he was going to reach the palace come hell or high water- which seemed a plausible possibility judging by the non stop downpour.

And so, D'artagnan didn't bat an eye as he scooped up what salvageable medicinal ingredients and tools that he could, untied the horses, placed the surgeon on one while he lifted himself and his supplies into the other.

Finally, as a precaution, he tied a thick rope from his mounts saddle to the bridle of the surgeons mount. No way was he risking losing the man he sought to deliver. And on they rode, hunkered low against the sleet, wind and torrential downpour.

He just hoped this was all worth it.

**Ahh, so that****'****s what he****'****s been up to! Poor D****'****artagnan was just trying to do his best and look out for his brothers but it seems he****'****s having a tough time pulling through with it. Will it really be all for nothing?**

**Lets find out together shall we? ;)**


	10. Porthos' Pie

**Im noticing that visitors to this story are consistently rising so im going to take that as a good sign that people are still reading this and keeping up to date, so thank you for following along! This will be a short chapter due to Christmas being only a few hours away for me, so I hope you are all well and merry! **

Meanwhile, three hours later at the palace, Porthos was busying himself and his King in the ante chamber opposite the room Aramis and Athos were 'working in.'

He had become burdened with an immense amount of energy as the evening had grown into night and the queens situation had become more dire, until Porthos felt he could run a mile. He had to expel this somehow lest he get into a fight with Treville or even worse, King Louis.

Looking over to said king, Porthos noticed him sitting in a lonesome chair down the hall, head in his hands propped up by his elbows which were resting on his knees.

He was staring dead ahead at what appeared to be a silver tray of food, though his distant, watery eyes hinted that he was no longer seeing, but feeling.

Porthos slowly sauntered over to the miserable man, shuffling his feet slightly as he stopped, unsure of how to approach such a delicate situation, though he had served under the man personally for some time now.

'Oh, damn it all' Porthos caved and snatched two pies from the tray beside him, shoving one in his mouth and shoving another an inch from the kings nose, effectively snapping him out of his piteous thoughts.

"Here, get this down ya. You need to be strong for her when this is all over. Don't want you falling all over yourself like a weak pansy" Porthos offered gruffly, trying his best to play the role of Athos with his wise advise and Aramis with his caring actions.

Stunned by such a recommendation the king slowly accepted the treat and began to nibble. "There ya go, that's it" Porthos encouraged.

"If you're going to be a father you've gotta be strong for 'em young-ns" Porthos added with a more comfortable and sincere grin.

King Louis almost choked on his pie at this, as the words sank in. He had been so caught up in the balance of his wifes' health, he had not even considered the fact he would now also become a father if all things ran smoothly.

"Woah, take it easy!" Porthos demanded, clapping the king harshly on the back until he spat the mushy pastry onto the carpet and shaking his head profusely.

First the queen was in danger and now the king was choking to death! What next? Porthos speculated.

It was at this moment that the screaming began, he could hear the familiar pangs of agony radiating down the hall as the queen was finally forced to give birth.

He couldn't withhold his cringe as he imagined what must be going on in that room right now, the torment she must go through as well as his brothers.

Sliding down the wall, Porthos sat on the carpet beside his king, his legs no longer able to hold him as his mind could no longer maintain pace with the intensity this moment brought.

He could hear Aramis calling out instructions, sounding eerily calm as he always did when he was in his medical zone, Porthos grinning at that.

He could just imagine his face, he had seen it himself blearily many times while he himself was wounded and seeking the aid of his dear brother Aramis.

This was definitely a new challenge for his practises, though he was sure he would manage it- after which, the three must surely promote his nicknamed status from medic to Doctor Aramis.

As for Athos, he remained quiet, but Porthos knew he was present- probably right in the thick of it, offering his hand as the queen no doubt attempted to break his fingers. You could always rely on Athos to be there for you when you needed him most.

And so seconds moved to minutes which became timeless until finally a new kind of cry rang out through the hallways of the palace. And boy was it beautiful.

**Sniff, sniff. Man that onion again, what am I doing to myself!? Haha, I hoped you enjoyed it as much as I did!**

**-As an aside this story is now 24 pages long and going strong thanks to all you lovely people. Up to this point I had written everything in one day- and ive never written anything this huge in my life all at once-not even essays- so I****'****m feeling **_**very **_**proud of myself. **

**Again thanks soooo much for sticking with me through this, I couldn****'****t have done it without you- or the musketeers- ;) **

**Seriously though, you really helped me to finish one of these fanfic stories for once, so thx for that! ;)**


	11. Not All In Vain

**Thanks for the amazing reviews once again! You guys are too kind! *hands out brownies because who doesn****'****t love brownies as a reward***

***As a side note, during Aramis****'**** entrance in this chapter I was listening to the song ****"****You and Me****"**** by Lighthouse to set the mood- so if you want to feel the full emotional effect, you can play the song along with the words when you see the * symbol****…**

**Anyways- onward! :D**

It seemed ironic that it was at this blissful moment of final peace that D'artagnan chose to slam open the grande front doors of the palace and simultaneously knock over a precariously balanced metal candle holder, resulting in a ear splitting crash as it fell.

Of course the bad luck couldn't end here as the now opened doors allowed the gusting winds and driving rain to sweep inside with him and snuff out the light of the only candles present, plunging both himself and his man into darkness.

In this half light it almost appeared that a sodden monster with demented hair and wild eyes had come to seek shelter in a seemingly derelict cave, his buddy in tow. But unlike all others this 'monster' had achieved the impossible.

Not daring to pause or catch his breath, D'artagnan felt his way out across the open floor until he spotted the glinting marble steps of the staircase.

Dashing forwards he all but dragged his new comrade along the somewhat familiar route until they broke out on the landing to face King Louis, Porthos and Treville- two of which had their swords drawn, ready for anything.

They were beyond surprised to see D'artagnan standing there looking like he was, with a bundle full of wet something's and a miserably wet man behind him.

A big, wide toothy grin broke out on Porthos' face upon recognizing his young brothers return, relief and overwhelming joy flooding his system as he charged over and gripped D'artagnan so tightly that he lifted him off the ground entirely and worked on busting a rib or two.

Though the feeling was mutual, D'artagnan gasped for air in the clutches of his brothers arms. He had just ran what felt like a marathon and had barely any air within him before to survive off of, now he must surely be turning blue.

Wriggling with all his might, D'artagnan dropped from Porthos' grasp and held him firmly at arms length so as not to offend him.

"I- I have …brought…the surgeon" D'artagnan panted, hands on knees, bent double for air and gesturing at the man behind him. Finally, his task was complete.

Porthos shuffled uncomfortably, his grin slowly taking on a slight cringe at the thought of having to tell D'artagnans efforts were no longer needed after all his troubles.

About to offer an apology to D'artagnan and regrettably inform him of his late timing after the queens' successful birth, Porthos found himself cut off by the same blissful cry he had heard once before; D'artagnans eyes darting to the closed door with slow recognition.

His gaze drifting back to Porthos was all D'artagnan had needed for his suspicions to reach a confirmation, Treville nodding once silently announcing the deed had been done.

Unable to stand from the shock and exhaustion, D'artagnans' knees buckled and he would have face planted on the rugs if not for Porthos' quick reflexes, his arms reaching out to steady his brother and slowly lower him to a sitting position on the floor.

" 'ts okay, brother, you've done your bit, just calm down and take deep steady breaths…there ya go" Porthos soothed, brushing back strands of D'artagnans long black hair from his eyes.

Holding him up slightly, Porthos continued to supply his reeling brother with everything he had missed since his departure, arriving to the obvious conclusion that the baby had already been born.

"But don't you fret, your efforts were not all in vain- its just as well that you went to all that trouble. We can still use that surgeon of yours to make sure the babe and the mother will pull through okay" Porthos assured, massaging small circles into D'artagnans tense shoulders, causing him to relax slightly.

Treville took this moment to act on Porthos' wise sentiments, politely ushering the wet man, now identified as the surgeon, towards the queens' chambers to assess the aftermath of events, knocking once before swinging the door wide.

Rushing through to attend his duties, the surgeon took to the queens side on her four poster bed where he could check on her well being, sparing a glance to the wriggling baby boy who was cradled gently in the nook of a soldiers arms, kneeling at the foot of the bed.

Trusting the baby was in good hands- based on his abilities to handle a birthing delivery- the surgeon continued onwards to assess the state of the queen as his top priority.

She seemed exhausted and in pain as all new mothers did, though it was relief and happiness that dominated her face as she continued to fix her gaze over to her newborn child.

Aramis at this point had not noticed in the slightest that a fourth person had entered the chamber to see to the queen, as his attention fully devoted to the squirming heir of France he held delicately to his breast.

Aramis was still trying to acknowledge the fact that he had somehow been graced by the gift of god that he had been allowed hold his newborn in his own hands.

Aramis would never forget such an awe inspiring moment in his life as his eyes roamed over the small face before him, the babys' eyes just beginning to open to take his first glance out into a world of light.

Aramis gently unclasped his blue cloak from his shoulder and carefully swaddled the baby boy within it to keep him safe and warm from the nights cold air, noting that as he did so the baby ceased its crying and peered at his fuzzy outline through innocent blue orbs.

It appeared the boy had taken to his beautiful mothers' eyes, the crystal cool depths of which innocently gazed upon the world which he could not yet comprehend, his eyes rolling in a somewhat humorous manner as he attempted to focus his sight, making him appear cross eyed.

A smile of pure joy broke out on Aramis' face, stroking the boys small cheek affectionately as his chest swelled with pride and adoration of his newborn son, roaming his eyes greedily over him to drink in the mixed features of the beginning of dark unruly hair atop his scalp and strait nose, accompanied by Anne's eyes, smattering of delicate freckles and small pink lips.

Tears began to leak from Aramis' eyes as he was met with relief from his most recent medical success and the survival of both his soul mate and son.

He no longer cared if he could be present in their lives, it was enough to satisfy his being that he would always have them with him at heart, this moment treasured in his mind to outweigh even the darkest of days he may find ahead and give him knew hope. Aramis was no longer alone in the world.

It was then that Athos made his presence known behind him, gripping one shoulder firmly in silent congratulations as he chest swelled with both pride and joy at seeing the delivery through and the happiness it brought to his brother.

But now their job was done, Aramis must hand over the babe to his queen and make to depart as was only appropriate for the situation before he bond to deeply with the infant and cause a scene with his tears of joy.

Athos nudged his friend slightly so as to stir him from his thoughts but not knock the child, "Come Aramis, we must depart now, for their majesties sake" he said in a hushed tone.

Aramis eyes broke contact with the boys' and drifted up to meet Athos,' smiling a broad grin up at him, hardly perceiving his brothers words but wanting to convey the glorious moment.

Athos allowed his joy for the moment to escape through the cracks of his stoic mask so his brother may be satisfied he had acknowledged the moment before once more settling back into a cool demeanour and instructing Aramis to rise from his position.

Aramis did so cautiously, following Athos over to the bedside to slowly hand over his precious bundle of joy, his moist brown eyes meeting the loving and grateful gaze of Queen Anne.

Their fingers brushed for a millisecond, in passing, sharing an electric charge through the physical touch after months of isolation, filling the atmosphere with such heavy emotions of joy and thanks before it ended just as quickly, the king entering the chamber in haste, joy on his face at seeing his family, safe.

Athos slowly escorted Aramis out of the room by the shoulders until he was met by Porthos and D'artagnan, both of which seemed mentally and physically drained, sitting by each others side in the middle of the hall.

The four brothers shared knowing glances that spoke of congratulations for each mans dedication to his duty before they bowed in turn to their captain and departed to a secondary chamber for much needed rest in the presence of a fireplaces' warmth with some food and wine as the storm raged on harmlessly outside the palace walls.

**Were you satisfied by the turn out? Leave a comment and let me know!**

***I should point out that there is still unresolved strings left to this plot that need to be tied together before I can finish this story, so I hope you****'****ll follow me to the end ;) **

**Thank you for all your support, kind reviews, follows and favourites so far!**


	12. The Power of Brotherhood

**Thank you again for your reviews! You make me grin and blush like an idiot ahaha, thank you!**

**I didn't check for grammatical errors this time- its Christmas so I didn't have the time, so if you find one, let me know and ill fix it!**

**On with the next chapter!**

As King Louis XIII of France became acquainted with his new son, the musketeers began to relax on the warm hearth by the fire in the adjoining chamber down the hall, relishing in each others soothing company after a particularly stressful night.

As Porthos and D'artagnan began to slowly unwind and finish each others account of the evening past over a bottle of Paris' best wine, Athos took notice of Aramis' quiet form standing still in the doorway- where he had stayed since he had entered the room.

In the half light of the fire, Athos saw Aramis was staring intently down at his bloodied hands, loose strands of hair hanging over his face and covering his expression.

Seemingly mesmerized by his palms, Aramis spread his fingers and turned his hands over again and again, inspecting each crimson stained fingerprint before rubbing them together vigorously and repeating the process.

When it seemed he could not rid himself of the stains Aramis hands began to tremble, subtly at first until the entire length of his arms were twitching and his frame was visibly shaking.

Athos quickly strode over to his brothers side, seeing Aramis on the verge of some unforeseen breakdown he could not have here of all places and certainly not now.

Forcing Aramis to look up and meet his sincere gaze as he took hold of Aramis arms and prevented them from shaking, attempting to ground the man in the moment.

"Aramis, brother, what is troubling you at such a merry hour?" Athos whispered softly, his friends gaze seeming to look straight through him as if he were not present.

"I- I'm-" Aramis began, his stuttering voice interrupting Porthos'and D'artagnans' happy conversation and earning their full attention at the sight of their pale and shaking comrade, eyes quickly growing wide with concern as they sprang up from the floor and across the room to comfort their brother.

"What's the matter? Did he fall ill?" D'artagnan demanded, looking to Athos for an answer while he placed a steady hand at Aramis' side when he swayed on his feet slightly.

Athos was now torn. Should he confide in his brothers and tell them the truth of Aramis full involvement that may explain his distant behaviour, or, should he remain loyal to his word and hold allow Aramis to tell them in his own time.

Porthos immediately grew suspicious of Athos' behaviour when he hesitated to share what must obviously be important information, withholding it from his brothers.

Porthos knew that his brother Athos was a man of few words but what little he did say was always straight to the point and usually vastly important information or wise advice.

There was never any pointless dilly dallying or beating around the bushes- a fearless trait for a musketeer- and yet he refused to enlighten them.

Aramis however, 'having clearly left his wits behind him' as Athos would later recall, decided to indulge his brothers requests and stated, " I'm a father…" before losing what little wits he had left and crumpling to the floor in shock of his own statement.

The newly 'enlightened' musketeers seemed to freeze at the announcement, unable to catch Aramis before he face planted on the rug while Athos bent down and did his best to pick him up and carry him to a nearby couch, stepping around his shell shocked brothers quickly as to avoid their eyes.

It was only a few minutes later that anyone uttered a word, as Athos attended to Aramis unconscious form while Porthos and D'artagnan remained rooted to the spot, dumbstruck as they did their best to digest this daunting surprise and what it implied for their friend, their brotherhood and the future of France.

Taking a deep breath, Athos glanced approvingly over Aramis' slumbering fitfully, his hands now clean of the bloody reminder and walked over to the fireplace so his back was to his brothers.

It seemed the proverbial cat was out of the bag, there was nothing he could do now but fill in the gaps.

Better he tell them than Aramis, for Athos would save Aramis the embarrassment and shame he would no doubt display as he awaited his brothers harsh judgement.

Of course Athos knew his brothers would be nothing but supporting, regardless of past mistakes. What was done was done and they would love him none the less for it. They were family, having only each other in this world- what was one more relative but a beacon of light in a gloomy world.

And so turning slowly, Athos offered his brothers to take a seat before downing a glass of wine and sitting across from them, sharing the adventures of Aramis' double life from the first night and over the course of the past months with all their depressing woes and hopeful promises.

Silence filled the room upon the end of the tale, each mans expression showing that he was deep in thought over the position of their brother, until finally, Porthos broke the silence.

"So you're saying that the moral of this story, is that it would appear we need to get a bigger leash for our handsome devil over there?" Porthos joked lightly eyes his sleeping brother with nothing but love.

He would hardly abandon Aramis through this, as he would sure Aramis would stick by his side if their roles were reversed, Porthos reasoned with a smile, _besides_, who else would have the nerve to participate in his explosive melon balancing act?

He doubted pretty boy D'artagnan would volunteer, he chuckled glancing over to D'artagnans questioning face, 'that boy loved his hair too much to allow melon juice to ruin it, let alone wear the hat of a musketeers.

D'artagnan smiled at Porthos' light hearted barb, "Yeah, seems like I need to teach Aramis a little something about women" he added with a wink, as Athos ruffled his hair and cracked a toothy grin for the second time that night.

They would help Aramis get passed this, they all would. Athos stuck his hand out in front of his brothers as they knowingly followed his gesture.

"All for one, and one for all" they said in unison, smiles all around as they lay back once more by the fire and talked long into the night oblivious of the dying storm outside.

**Oh man I really felt the feels on that one, I don****'****t know about you!**

**Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Only the epilogue is left now xox**


	13. Epilogue

~0~ **Epilogue **~0~

**Here****'****s the closing guys!**

It was an hour before Aramis groggily dragged his consciousness back to the land of the living and spied his brothers asleep on the floor beside the fire while he lay strewn across the only couch, a loose blanket covering his stiff form.

Unable to stifle a groan as his head pulsed in time with his heart Aramis attempted to stand, waiting a moment on his feet to wait for the dizziness to pass before shuffling over to his brothers and laying down beside them.

It always gave him immeasurable comfort to remain close by their side, something he desperately needed right now.

He stared into the flames, his thoughts jumbled between happiness and sadness with the building pressure to tell his unaware brothers the shameful truth of his dealings with Queen Anne.

Catching movement on his right, Aramis turned to see Athos peering at him blearily through half lidded eyes, a soft smile playing across his sleepy features.

His eyes seemed to be trying to tell Aramis something, even more so when they pointedly drifted to their slumbering brothers before returning to Aramis.

Looking aghast at what Athos implied Aramis eyes began to widen, but Athos stretched his arm across the others to place a reassuring hand on Aramis' knee. "All is well" Athos whispered, sincerity bleeding through his words.

Aramis wasn't sure he could believe him.

Perhaps he had misread his brothers true feelings of his position with Anne and were waiting to tell it to him face, Aramis looked back into the fire unconvinced before noticing more shifting off to his right.

Now three sets of bleary eyes were watching him fondly each one conveying the same, reassuring message with one shared glance, none of them breaking their gaze until Aramis broke away first, tears in his eyes as he finally acknowledged his brothers support.

Laying back down to join the huddled forms of his brothers, Aramis slowly closed his weary eyes and allowed himself to relax after all these months of silence.

"All for one-" Aramis began, as he took the first step into his new life alongside his brothers, his voice straining with emotion, "and one for all" his brothers replied in unison, their voices all strong and true.

United, musketeers were known to withstand and fight off all numbers of perils against all odds. Should one fall or be struck down, his brothers would carry him until he could stand again. And so was the way of these four men, a band of brothers who would stick by each others side to the bitter end, no matter the cost.

**Sniff sniff, and so there you have it, its finally done****…****waaaaa!**

**Haha, I do hope you guys liked the journey as much as I did, especially now that I can say I****'****ve finished my first fan fiction story ever!**

**Leave a comment on what you thought, or suggestions for future stories like this?**

**Thank you all for your continued support and motivation!**

**-Boooyakasha!**

**P.S- im thinking of making my next fic on Athos x Milady de Winter and found the perfect song to represent it! It****'****s a really **_**perfect **_**song for them, so I left it below here so that you guys can check it out if you****'****re interested and would like some insight ;)**

** watch?v=cu7QvOQKcKk**


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