I struggled to finish this. I had one idea for this story but Aramis insisted on making it about him! Anyway, here it is, final chapter. Feedback welcome.

"This is ludicrous," Aramis said.

"So you have told me," Athos said drily, "repeatedly."

"Well it is," Aramis snapped, waving a hand to the street, "It is absolute madness, allowing the queen to wander around the city unguarded."

"We are guarding her," Athos said calmly as he turned to eye his friend speculatively. Aramis had been uncharacteristically short tempered ever since Constance's revelation the day before. He had scowled through the planning of their mission, objected to every decision until they had discussed all possible worst case scenarios to death and now stood grimly beside Athos, his entire being bristling with frustration. "Aramis," Athos said warningly, "I know all too well the influence of a woman upon one's reason. You are of no use to me if you are ruled by emotion." He waited for Aramis's nod of agreement. It came with a glance of apology. Athos slapped his friend in light approval and jerked his head toward the street, "Come on then, they're moving on."

The pair stepped out from the doorway, maintaining a safe distance from the two women ahead. They had watched as Constance and the queen emerged from the palace grounds, dressed simply in the robes of respectable Parisian women, while Aramis cursed the incompetence of the red guards on the palace security detail. The musketeers shadowed the pair as they meandered through the city, the queen pausing with interest at a stall or shop window, while Constance hovered uncomfortably beside her. Constance was tense, her expression watchful. Athos had watched as she sought them out in the crowd more than once, her eyes flitting over people hopefully. She did so now and hoping to quell some of her anxiety, Athos paced sideways and caught her attention. Constance smiled in half relief, nodded quickly and returned her attention to the queen. Athos scanned the square, on the far side, D'Artagnan and Porthos were milling unobtrusively by some vendors. The crowd, oblivious to their royal visitor, carried on with their usual Sunday morning business.

"All seems well," Athos murmured quietly.

"We're not near the Court of Miracles yet," came Aramis's grim answer.

The crowd thickened and they moved closer. The queen walked slowly and linking arms with Constance, she inched through the loud and chattering masses, glancing about with interest, absorbing the colourful life of Paris, while Aramis remained entirely absorbed by her. Sunday morning might be a quiet day of religious tribute in the palace but for the poor of Paris, it was an opportunity to sell something, to beg for a bargain or donation or to resolve some dispute, safe in the knowledge that the sin of violence could be quickly confessed after mass. It was a world away from the queen's life and she appeared fascinated by it. She was entirely oblivious to their presence, engrossed as she was in the city around her and yet she was within Aramis's easy grasp now, he need only push someone aside in order to reach her among the swelling crowd. He held his position safe in the knowledge that should Anne turn, she would not see him. The musketeers were well rehearsed in being invisible and in this moment, in the guarding of his queen, Aramis was with every fibre of his being, a musketeer. It was a sense of being, one which slipped over him, consumed him, drove every sense in these moments of duty. He was utterly alert now, emotion buried, aware of every movement around him, his eyes roving over those closest to the queen as beside him, Athos watched those in the distance. Porthos and D'Artagnan had moved ahead and were most likely inside the chapel by now.

Aramis watched as Constance pushed her way through the chapel gates, the queen's hand in hers. He and Athos stepped inside and took their positions. The Queen had arrived safely. All that was left was to get her home.

Frere Claude had welcomed them warmly. Constance had wondered if he might recognise his visitor but the man, more accustomed to working with the poor than the rich merely bowed a brief welcome and directed them to the alcove. The queen questioned him quietly about his congregation.

"They are poor Madame, in materials and spirit," Frere Claude told her, "I tend to their souls as they have little opportunity or ability to read the word of the Lord themselves. I care for their physical needs for their struggles are so horrific, no true man of god could turn his back upon their plight."

The queen regarded him in admiration. "You are a testament to your order, Frere Claude. Tell me, how can I help?"

The brother pointed to the alcove, "Merely watch Madame. Our Sunday mass is for the ill. I trust that a viewing of the congregation will make their needs very clear."

It did. The congregation gathered slowly, most of them clearly battling through life with an illness or deformity. Grey faces ravaged with disease, lined the pews. Older people limped to a seat, their slow hobbling painful to watch. Children, some deformed, rested listlessly against their parents. Frere Claude prayed for their healing and voices rose fervently during these prayers. It was Constance thought gazing around the packed chapel, like a pit of abject misery.

"How utterly cruel," the queen murmured beside her, "Life is for some." She glanced at Constance, "I am so very fortunate," Anne's eyes slipped past Constance, resting on a small, sickly looking child, "as is my son."

Not for the first time, Constance found herself regarding the queen with quiet admiration. Constance had gladly accepted the queen's offer of employment. The palace represented all that Constance could dream of in life with its politics, intrigue and adventure, colourful characters, the exciting entertainers, exotic food and lavish fashion and furnishings, everything about royal life was excessive, indulgent and utterly fascinating. She hadn't however considered the possibility of friendship and yet it grew, quietly, loyally. The queen proved to be kind hearted and supportive of the members of her household. She paid attention to the minor details of their lives and regularly enquired after ill relatives, new babies or other domestic details. The queen was principled, Constance discovered and passionate about the causes dear to her heart. She regularly much to the despair of those responsible for her safety, insisted on visiting prisons, or the hospitals for the destitute. Anne wanted to understand those under her rule; she desired to know the shape and substance of their lives and was frequently frustrated by the careful orchestrations of her official visits. She was also lonely. It had surprised Constance, the depth of isolation in which the queen lived and it was in that isolation that their friendship formed. Constance wasn't quite sure how it happened, she simply knew it had and now it gave her purpose. She no longer sought to play with weapons or slip away on musketeer adventures. She had her own.

"France is fortunate," Constance said, turning slightly, "to have a queen as compassionate as Your Majesty."

"Compassion will not change the lives of these people," Anne said, "I have much to think about." She nodded at Constance. "We shall disperse what alms we have today and then consider how we might better assist them."

"I shall give the alms to Frere Claude," Constance said, "It is best if we don't draw too much attention to ourselves."

Anne began to demur, pausing at Constance's pleading expression. "Very well Constance," the queen said with a smile, "I have tormented you enough for one morning."

They waited for the mass to end, Constance resisting the urge to look for the musketeers in whichever spots they had sequestered themselves. It was enough to know that the queen was under their watchful protection. She waited for the brother to move through the crowd, pausing to shake a hand or bless an unfortunate, as he wove his way back to them. He stepped into the alcove, his expression honest. "You understand now Madame?" he asked Anne.

"Indeed, I do." Anne nodded at Constance, who pressed a small bundle of coins into his hands, "I shall visit again Frere Claude and shall donate more handsomely now I have seen the need for myself."

Frere Claude nodded in gratitude and blessed them both. "I shall remember you both in my morning mass," he slipped past them and producing a key, unlocked a sturdy door at the rear of the alcove. Constance's stomach lurched and she glanced around. No sign of them.

"Frere, we can leave by the usual manner," she began.

"This is the simplest way to leave Madame. It may take an hour for you to move through the crowd, such is their need."

Anne nodded gratefully, "Many thanks Frere; I look forward to renewing our acquaintance in the near future."

"Move carefully," his eyes drifted to the busy square outside, "Paris can be dangerous, even on a Sunday morning."

Constance followed the queen, dread thumping in her heart.

Just a flash of blue in the distance, she begged silently, and I'll know all will be well.

Across the chapel, there was consternation. Porthos growled, while the others sprang from their various positions, ploughing through the crowd with muttered apologies, following the queen. Aramis was there first, Athos reaching him as he was just about to threaten the brother for the key.

"Frere Claude," Athos said, landing a calming hand on Aramis's shoulder, "We have a duty to protect the woman who was just here. I beg of you, open that door."

The brother eyed them, rounding on the others. "You are the King's musketeers?"

Four heads nodded in brusque agreement.

"Honourable men, or so I have heard," Frere Claude moved toward the door, "Very well gentleman, you may do your duty."

Armour, boots, bodies fled past him. He watched them go, melting quickly into the crowd, into Paris.

They ploughed through people literally. Aramis pushed through those in his path, a careful nudge for the careless, heavy push for the belligerent. None here would challenge a musketeer. Behind, Porthos hollered 'Move, King's business' and a path cleared respectfully for a moment or two. Aramis glanced around, then quickly to Porthos, "Anything?"

Porthos shook his head. "Nothing."

"Constance will be frantic," Aramis muttered, ignoring the panic drumming in his own chest.

They moved on, joining with Athos and D'Artagnan.

"They can't have got far," he began.

"They didn't," Relief lightened Athos's tone, his hand pointing across the street, to where the women were standing outside a shop window.

"Women," Porthos snorted, his frame relaxing now. "She has a palace full of dresses and a cheap boutique still manages to grab her attention."

The men exchanged relieved glances, heartrates slowing.

"Come on then," Aramis said, pacing away, "Best not to be caught staring."

"Poor Constance," D'Artagnan said sympathetically, recognising tension in her posture, "I'd imagine she wants nothing more than to see the palace gates at this stage."

"Let's just get them there," Athos said from behind.

They almost made it there. The women didn't dawdle this time; their pace was quick and focused, the queen evidently anxious to return to the palace before her absence could be noted. Constance appeared perfectly happy with that decision and at times gave a good impression of Porthos with her determined stride. They had reached the end of the market area when Aramis spotted the inevitable.

"Your Majesty?" The aghast, questioning voice of General Houle of the Red Guards stopped the queen in her tracks.

"General Houle…"

General Houle, second in command to Rochefort stood there, a small regiment around him, his mouth flapping open. He stared at the paling queen and Constance, taking in their clothing and lack of entourage with growing disbelief.

"Your Majesty, I don't understand," he began, "Is all well?"

Constance found her voice. She forced authority into it. "Have you forgotten yourself General?"

The soldier flushed and bowed jerkily, "Apologies your Majesty but I must enquire, where is your security detail?" He frowned in half confusion, "You do have one?"

"Obviously," Constance said, throwing a final prayer to the sky, "The Queen has a security detail."

"I can't see…"

"You need not concern yourself," The queen interjected hastily; "There is no cause for worry. You and your men may continue with your business."

Houle glanced from one to the other, suspicion gliding across his face, "Your Majesty, I cannot allow..."

It was enough. With a single glance, Aramis and Athos moved as one. Sweeping back their hoods, they materialised, one on either side of the queen, D'Artagnan and Porthos appearing behind them. Aramis regarded the general calmly, ignoring the glance of surprise from his monarch and the puff of relief from Constance. He shifted from one foot to the other, lifting a questioning eyebrow. "Didn't you hear the queen, General?"

The other man was thoroughly confused. He glanced around the men, and then shifted apologetic eyes back to the queen. "My apologies, Your Majesty. I was merely concerned for your safety." He shot an accusatory glance at Athos, "Your security detail was practically invisible."

"That," Athos said calmly, "was the entire point."

"A security measure," Aramis added helpfully, "Ensuring that we can protect the queen, while remaining invisible to those," he waved at the regiment, "who are highly trained in reconnaissance themselves."

"Allegedly highly trained," Porthos said from behind.

The general tensed at that. He straightened stiffly. "We are available to escort you, Your Majesty, if our services are required."

"Unnecessary Captain," The queen spoke up. She glanced reprovingly at Constance, "I am sufficiently protected."

She acknowledge the general's final bow with a half nod and watched him depart, his regiment following. Once they were out of earshot, Anne turned to her friend.

"Constance," she said reproachfully, "You have betrayed me."

"Not at all…"

"Your Majesty, we happened upon you both…"

"Constance should not be held responsible…"

"Really Your Majesty, it was quite a coincidence…"

"Yes," Constance raised a hand, saving the musketeers from their enthusiastic defence of her. She nodded remorsefully, "I did, Your Majesty. I hinted enough of your plan to know I could count upon their protection. I just couldn't." Constance shook her head, "abide the thought of harm befalling you because you have one foolish servant who can be talked into almost anything."

Anne glanced around the soldiers. "Not everything apparently," she said, dryness in her voice. "Do others know?"

"No," Constance promised, "I only told the four men I know are as loyal to you as I."

"You were there the entire time?" Anne asked irritably, "surely not from the palace?"

Athos grimaced in agreement. "Through the market."

"Through all the window shopping," Porthos said with a quick grin, which vanished at the sight of his queen's stormy gaze.

"In the chapel," D'Artagnan said apologetically, "Aramis sat two rows behind you."

Anne's eyes darted uncomfortably to Aramis. He appeared utterly unruffled; indeed she detected a hint of challenge in his gaze. He regarded her calmly then indicated ahead, "We shall attract attention if we don't move on, Your Majesty."

She stepped alongside him, the others behind, D'Artagnan instantly moving to console a downcast Constance. The queen and Aramis walked in silence, until finally he spoke.

"I thought," he said carefully, "we previously discussed the idiocy of unaccompanied trips outside of the palace."

Anne almost smiled. Few spoke to her as candidly as Aramis. Few dared.

"I remember you sharing your opinion on the matter," she said, "I also seem to recall advising you that the Queen knows her own mind."

"The Queen," Aramis said in a low, firm tone, "placed her life in jeopardy today."

"The Queen was perfectly fine. For once she managed to witness life as it truly is for the most miserable of her subjects. The only issue arose when one group of over protective soldiers met another group of overprotective soldiers." She glanced sideways, "You know the cage I live in Aramis. There are days I simply long to escape it."

Aramis swallowed and dragged his eyes from hers. "We all live in cages, separate from the lives we might wish to live."

Painful silence hung between them. Once again, the soldier broke it.

"Your Majesty," Aramis said gently, "Your safety is of paramount importance to France and to your son. Should you wish to experience life, we shall gladly accompany you, hidden as we were today." Aramis glanced at her, emotion buried in his eyes, "I would never forgive myself should harm befall you. Your son, without you," he paused, leaving that thought hanging, "I beg you to consider my offer." He half smiled, a quiet plea in his eyes, "Besides, Parisians regularly travel in small groups of friends. Perhaps you could consider us friends to you in those moments?"

Anne considered. She felt herself glow within, passion and intimacy intertwining, warming her. He warmed her as no other did, or could. She carried him in her heart and Anne was used to loving from a distance. She had longed for Spain and for her family from the age of fourteen, longed for her son when the governess took him from her arms. Her longing for Aramis, strong and unyielding was easy to hide but there were times, as now, when she allowed herself a moment to see him, to feel him, to allow that locked away love escape. Just for a moment.

Anne smiled at him briefly. "Perhaps," she said lightly, "perhaps."

"I'm sorry I was short Constance," the queen said, in the safety of her apartment. "It was unfair of me to put you in that position."

Constance eyed her guiltily, "It is I who should apologise, Your Majesty. I wished only to ensure your safety. I merely intended them to be in the vicinity," she shrugged in mild embarrassment, "I may have conjured up every awful event that could possibly happen near the Court of Miracles. It was almost an anti- climax when the visit went so smoothly."

The queen could not help but smile at her friend's disquiet. "All went well. I achieved my aim; I experienced Parisian life and briefly enjoyed the illusion of freedom. Perhaps it was best you confided in our loyal musketeers."

"They would never have forgiven me had I not spoken," Constance said, adding quietly, "especially Aramis."

They shared a gaze, friendship ebbing between them, warmth, an understanding of the queen's unspoken heart.

"Come," the queen said, "The King is anxious I meet with the ambassador."

Constance nodded and followed the queen, in her service.

THE END