Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own The Musketeers or any of it's characters.

A.N. Okay so first an apology for what has to be the slowest update ever. Very sorry! I will try to update more. But I did not forget you all, or this story, so bear with me. I have grand plans for these characters…

Multiple PoVs this chapter to really cover it all. Don't hate me.

Aramis PoV

Let her be well.

Dear god let her and the child be well. This was all he could think as they edged ever closer to the palace. Thinking of what they could possibly encounter knocked the air from his lungs.

Aramis gripped the reins tighter and urged his steed on at an almost deadly pace, his comrades followed closely behind them. All wearing matching masks of concern. The weather had taken a dark turn, rain pelting from the now darkened sky, a chill had set itself in his chest and it was only partly from the cold.

As they hurtled down the muddy road that lead through the palace grounds, Aramis' mind was thrown back to the moments after D'Artagnan's revelation…

After his announcement D'Artagnan seemed lost for all words and, running his fingers through his hands, he leant against a nearby beam like a dead man.

"Collapsed?" Athos questioned incredulously, the brief period of silence was ended by his voice. No one had wanted to be the first to speak. Aramis would have voiced himself but he was having trouble drawing breath, let alone speaking, all he could do was gasp for air and try to blink away the black spots that were clouding his vision.

His friends looked almost as worse for wear, D'Artagnan was ashen and Porthos looked as if he would be sick. Although their loyalty was to the King for the most part they all preferred the Queen. Her loyalty was not demanded but simply given freely from her charm and kindness. The innate goodness she had and her will to help the people separated her from other royals.

Athos stepped close to D'Artagnan his demeanour solemn and stern. This action seemed to rouse the younger man, who cleared his throat and straightened to speak.

"Yes in church during the Holy Communion. I was accompanying Captain Treville after awakening late. The Queen looked rather unwell but was happy enough to continue, it wasn't until she collapsed that we saw how bad she had been…" The last few words were said in a dark tone. "They have taken her to the palace. Treville sent me to bring you all to there. Word has spread and there is a crowd at the gates, we are to be extra security. In case of any…Unfortunate news."

"Let us leave quickly." Athos threw a cursory glance at Aramis trying not to look to concerned at his friend's lack of movement.

D'Artagnan and Porthos were already through the door speaking to one another in broken sentences, Athos stepped closer to Aramis and placed a hand on his shoulder. He could not help but feel the cold sweat that had enveloped the spaniard.

Aramis jumped at the contact. He let out a ragged breath and looked into his friends eyes with the look of a dying man.

"What do I do?" He croaked, his face now completely drained of all colour.

"Pray. Pray for your love. But you must also do your duty." He steered Aramis to the door and accompanied him to their horses.

"We all must."

They were now entering the courtyard in a flurry, sending stone pebbles flying in their wake.

Aramis immediately knew something was terribly wrong. He had expected to encounter servants scurrying to and fro, ladies whispering and guards trying to control the clamour. Instead he heard nothing. It was as if a spell had been cast quelling all sounds.

Panic began to take over him, he jumped from his horse and began to run. He did not even bother to look behind him, although judging form the accompanying sounds his fellow musketeers were doing the same.

Aramis lost all peripheral vision as he strode through the grand doors of the palace and along the marble floors that paved the way to the Queen quarters. He encountered no one in his hurry, the palace was empty of all life. But as he became closer to the quarters he heard murmurs of noise.

Forlorn soft sounds like women sobbing and hushed solemn whispers.

Reaching the doors that had been left unattended, he reached for the handle. For a split second he froze. Whatever he would see behind that door would not be good, deep inside him he knew there was only one thing that could make him feel the sense of foreboding that made him feel as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest. Slowly.

Turning the handle he entered the small antechamber by the Queen's bedroom, he was met by a small group of people, all of whom did not look as if they knew what to do.

The Queen's ladies were sitting on chairs sobbing in a cluster in one corner. Two of the kings noblemen were standing uncomfortably by the wall speaking to one another almost silently.

The noise of his sudden entrance had caused all to look up. Once the women saw his blue cloak they simply continued their sobbing all trying to console a blonde woman who had been shocked into hysterics by the sudden noise of the door.

The scene before him had made the black spots return and it was all he could do to maintain his balance and push through the second door to the Queen's bedroom. The noblemen made no effort to stop him. They simply shied away from the entrance.

The second Aramis entered the room he knew he shouldn't have.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. A rotten putrid smell like dead flowers with a metallic tang that hit the back of his throat and made him want to gag. It was the smell of death, he had smelt it in the busy street where he had found Monsieur Rochelle with his throat cut open, it the tunnels earlier that day, where it had been stronger, and here in this room where it was a thousand times stronger.

But the smell was nothing compared to the sight before him. A man dressed in the garb of a doctor stood by the bed, he did nothing. He could do nothing. The person who lay there could not be helped, her fate was now in the hands of God.

Anne…, correction, Anne's body lay on the bed swathed in sheets. Her eyes gently shut with her lips parted slightly. She could have been asleep, if not for the deathly pallor of her face. But no breath left those pale blue lips. And the blood. Once Aramis saw it he knew there was no escaping the truth. She was dead. Crimson blood streaked the sheets of the bed.

They were drawn up to her waist leaving her chest only covered by her undergarments. A cursory glance showed a golden gown crumpled to the floor at the foot of the bed.

Her hair had come loose from its pins and was spread loosely around her face. The edged curled gently to frame her ghostly face. One arm was placed over her still rounded stomach while the other hung over the edge of the bed still loosely gripping a golden necklace. It must have come off in the flurry to remove her clothes.

Stood stock still staring at her body, Aramis had never felt more alone. She was gone, her once life-filled vessel now barren of all. Even the child she carried was gone. That was a small piece of solace. At least they were together, as God intended, though what God would allow such brutality in those so pure. Stolen into his holy kingdom leaving only wretched sinners as himself behind, Alone.

"Porthos take him outside."

A voice broke through his clouded thoughts.

Tearing his eyes from the macabre bed, Aramis glanced to his left and saw a grave Athos and a sickly looking Porthos.

Letting himself be led, he hadn't the energy to fight, he simply whispered in struggle.

"I cannot leave her."

Porthos' face was in permanent frown as he ushered his friend out into the corridor.

"There is nothing to leave. She is gone. Our Queen is dead."

Athos PoV

Athos watched for a few brief seconds as the devastated spaniard was taken from the room. Then breathing in a deep breath despite the rotten air, he walked over to the doctor, now clearing up his tools, an began to inquire.

"What exactly happened here? I have not been fully informed." Athos wanted a full and detailed explanation of what exactly had put an end to the like of the young Queen.

The doctor, a young man in his twenties with a pinched look on his face, appeared almost startled to have been approached at all but spoke without further instruction.

"When I first arrived, I was informed that the Queen had simply had a bout of weakness, common is expectant mothers, most likely brought on by stress. That with a lack of sleep and her fragile state had made her faint. At worst I was to ensure her child was not injured in the fall but… As soon as I saw her I knew she was losing her child. I believe that she had a condition that made her unable to fully bear children. I have only seen it a few times before. It's almost always impossible to diagnose. It causes internal bleeding and if blood loss becomes too significant it can be fatal. This was the case with Her Majesty. By the time I had arrived it was already too late… A small happiness is that she was not in much pain. She simply…slipped away." The doctor had finished packing his supplies and was taking his bag onto his shoulder, when he continued.

"I have been informed that the Cardinal will send for the mortician and perform the religious rites. There is nothing more I can do." Glancing for a last time at the body, he shook his head and exited the room.

After a brief moment of silence, while he worked thought his various thoughts, Athos realised he was alone in the room with the body. In a moment of superstition he didn't know he had in himself. Athos crossed himself with the signum cruces and began to make his exit from this cursed room.

Before he reached for the handle, the musketeer took a second to glance despondently at the corpse of his Queen. In a moment of tenderness, Athos stepped forward and grasped the hand draped over the side of the bed to place it with her other hand on the swollen stomach. As he did so the necklace that was held tightly in her hand came loose and fell to the floor. Bending down to retrieve it, he noticed an object glinting under the bed. Swiftly reaching forward for the source of the shimmer, he found himself holding a small stone about the size of a walnut.

It was quite an extraordinary stone, at first glance it was oblong and dull, like a kind of pebble, but when he moved it in his fingers it underwent a transformation. Just under the smooth grey surface a gleaming layer of a myriad of colours. Golden yellow, emerald green and deep blue billowed together almost magically. For Athos placing this stone in his pocket was merely a moment of whimsy, which was very unlike him. He had no idea where it had come from, or why it had come to be where it had, he simply wished to keep it near him for the time being, so that he could look upon it further when he had time. Had he know at that moment that a mere few inches from where he had retrieved this curious object, were four or five small black seeds that would have meant far more to him than this trinket.

After leaving the Queen's quarters, Athos had a brief conversation with Captain Treville, in which the older man further described the events preceding the Queen's death. His short, concise words were unable to hide how shaken he was. In five years of service, Athos had never seen his commander so emotional as he was when he spoke of this day's tragic events. Treville had known the Queen since she had been a young bride, it was obvious he had cared for her like a daughter. He also seemed to have his hands full with the King. The Captain had mentioned that their sovereign leader was alone in his chambers, still reeling from this fresh loss and was in no condition to see anyone. Athos was further instructed to lay low for the time being until he and his men were required, apparently the Red Guard would oversee the King's protection on the grounds for the time being and the Musketeers were to prevent any brawls from turning into something more once the news of the Queen's death had spread throughout the city. The last thing that the King needed was a riot in his time of mourning. For once Athos was happy that the Red Guard was taking charge of the situation. Right now Athos needed to pay attention to another in mourning. Something Treville had said made him think. It's times like this you need to protect the ones around you. There had been a moment of panic after he had said this that Athos could have sworn he knew Aramis' secret. He simply must have imagined the sideways look Treville had given him.

Making his excuses and promising to be vigilant on the streets of Paris, Athos was now looking for Aramis. Despite the tricks his mind was playing on him, Athos had only been away from his friend for at most half an hour. He decided to return to their horses, to see if only his remained.

When he arrived at the entrance to the Palace and saw through a window that all four horses were in place. When he got to the doorway, he heard noises. A retching sound coming from behind the ornate bushes that circled the courtyard. When he approached, he saw D'Artagnan standing off to the side while Porthos was crouched over an obviously ailing Aramis. He was bent over double and seemed to have just finished vomiting.

"Is he alright? Should I get water?" Athos didn't know how to help his friend.

"I have a better idea." Porthos made room for Athos by Aramis' side and went to his horses saddle-bag. Returning with a small flagon, he handed it to a sitting Aramis who took it with one hand while the other wiped away the remaining bile from his mouth. Athos was beginning to think alcohol was Porthos' only solution.

He took a large gulp choking on the flagon's contents and handed it to Athos, who in turn took a sip. In turn all made a silent toast to the Queen even D'Artagnan, who was grey from the night before still.

"What did you learn, Athos?" The young man questioned in place of the silent spaniard who was gazing at the ground as if he wished it would engulf him.

Athos described what both the Captain and the Doctor had told him. He tried to leave out the gory details but it was hard to leave them out and after he had finished all men looked even more shaken. Aramis had an almost empty look in his eyes. Athos went on to summarise their duties for the time being, much to Porthos and D'Artagnan's chagrin.

"But we are the King's royal guard! We can protect him far better than those Red bastards!" Porthos raged.

"We are to patrol the city and prevent any discord among the people. They will be grieving for their Queen and our duty is as the Captain demands!" Athos countered.

Porthos seemed ready to continue his tirade but his voice died in his throat as he gestured to behind Athos.

Turning immediately, Athos came face-to-face with someone he had completely forgotten in the day's haste and who he knew must be as distraught as Aramis.

Jocelyn.

The red-haired maid stood looking dishevelled in a green dress, her hair almost free of it's usually tight bun. She had a wild look in her witchy green eyes and judging from the puffiness around them, she had been crying. Her dress was only a thin summer one and in the light rain she was shaking. He began to step closer, slowly as if approaching a deer.

"My Lady…" He placed a gentle hand on Jocelyn's shoulder. Lord she was ice cold.

"I- I…you!" As she had looked up into Athos' eyes, she had glanced over his shoulder and seen Aramis, staring blankly into space. Pushing past him, she took the Musketeers by surprise and was launching herself at Aramis with a cat-like speed.

"YOU WRETCHED MAN! YOU YOU FOOL! THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" The force of her attack had knocked Aramis to the ground where she clawed and hit at him like a wild animal. He was barely trying to fight her off.

It took several moments to break them apart, so strong was her rage, all the while she shouted obscenities. Some of which were in a language unknown to Athos.

"You bastard! You Spanish dog! It's your fault! It's all your fault!"

In the end Porthos had to forcibly lift the feral woman off the ground with D'Artagnan having to hold her legs still, a trial that resulted in him being kicked several times, once in the head.

"Jesus Christ, she's a wild one!" Porthos remarked.

"D'Artagnan! Porthos! Get him out of here before people hear! Perhaps she will calm herself when he is gone."

They did as he ordered and picked up a shell-shocked Aramis, with blood on his cheek from where she had scratched him. He took Jocelyn and tried to contain her while they left.

Athos thought he heard D'Artagnan ask.

"What did she mean? It's his fault?" To which Porthos had replied.

"Shut up."

She continued to screech until the three men had ridden away.

"He killed her! She's dead because of him! If it weren't for him! I curse that man! I curse you all!" Athos continued to hold her in his vice-like grip until her shouts had quietened to a series of whimpers and she had stopped fighting him, after a while she was simply weeping into his shoulder.

When her sobs had quietened to a steady flow of tears and Athos was certain that the men would be out of chasing distance, he loosened his grip on the tearful maid.

"Can you be quiet? If anyone hears you…." He left the sentence open, knowing she knew his meaning.

"What they'll kill us all for treason? So what? The only friend I have ever had is gone. The woman I dedicated my life to, gone. Let them hang us." Jocelyn sounded as if she truly wished this.

She glanced down at their entwined hands and broke then free to gaze at her hands. At first he thought she disked the intimacy they were briefly sharing but when Athos followed her gaze, he saw that her fingers were still marked with faint red-brown marks. Blood.

"You were with her?" If he was right then she must have seen far worse than he thought.

"No…not when it mattered." She hid her face in her blood-stained hands.

"What do you mean?" Despite her attack on Aramis, he wanted to help her. Perhaps talking would do good.

"I overslept…no one woke me. So I was not with her. I was meant to watch her. But she seemed so well the night before…tired and a bit faint but happy. You know why. When I realised I had missed the Mass, I was barely worried but then I heard the commotion…" Her voice trailed off into fresh tears, gulping and wiping her eyes, she continued to the best of her ability.

"I came to her rooms to see the King leaving. He claimed he felt faint." Disgust tinged her voice.

"When I came in there was only the Cardinal and the Doctor. I insisted on helping, the other ladies had left. I tried to rouse Anne, but I was told she had fallen unconscious when they arrived at the palace. He tried to apply pressure to stop the blood. I passed him fresh dressings and he gave me the soaked ones but…" When she paused he assumed she was in tears again, but when he looked up he saw she simply frozen with a look of sorrow and confusion that was almost childlike.

"What…What do I do now?" She said this quietly, as if it was an unanswerable question.

"You move forward. It's all you can do. Life goes on and so you must."

"I have to leave." She voiced quietly.

He knew from the tone of her voice she didn't just mean leaving his company.

"Where will you go?" For some reason he didn't like the idea of her disappearing.

"I have family near here. In the country."

For a moment they locked eyes, her bright green ones and his steady grey ones.

Almost in sync with each other they leaned in as if to kiss but before his lips could touch her. Jocelyn swiftly turned away and walked into the wood without so much as a goodbye. Despite not knowing when or if she would ever return, Athos had a feeling he would be seeing this beautiful woman again.

He was right.

Jocelyn PoV

Jocelyn wasn't sure where to go.

Now that she had begun her exit from the palace, a dozen question bubbled up.

She would have to make the rash decision to contact her family in Paris to see if they would help her. She was almost certain they would. People like her tended to stick together. Made them easier to hunt.

Even if her family didn't want her, she couldn't stay at court. Not now. It wouldn't be the same. A new Queen to serve? Never.

Brushing these negative thoughts away as she walked through the grounds towards the palace gates, Jocelyn thought instead of what Athos had said. Life goes on.

Did it? Could she go on without her friend of almost twenty years? There would be no doubt that she would never have a true friend like that again, Jocelyn wasn't a people person. Her actions with the spaniard were violent proof.

But she could still do good. For Anne. Perhaps she was already in Heaven looking down at her old friend. Jocelyn liked the thought of her friend watching over her, that maybe she wasn't truly gone.

Jocelyn smiled faintly at this, as she left the grounds. If she had been a little more focused, she might have seen the hooded figure in the trees watching her leave before it turned to head for the palace.

A.N. MWAHAHAHA I am diabolical! Okay I'm sure you hate me right now but be honest, do you think I would spend eight chapters brewing romance and drama to just kill off the Anne in the Annamis? Please review with feedback and don't hate Jocelyn. She is my plot device pawn, and obviously she is very stressed atm. Her and Queeny were like this *holds fingers together* no homo tho I promise :P