Author's Notes: One of my favorite new games is to write from an outsider's point of view.

This is another multi-part story, which is not how I normally operate. And, I actually have a file now named "Bunnies" and it is a list of ideas for stories for this fandom. I do not understand what this show has done to me.

I own very little and absolutely nothing related to The Musketeers.

Caroline smiled as Guerin approached. The Musketeer loved to practice his English with her.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle Ambassador!"

"Good morning, Monsieur Guerin. Are we nearly ready to break camp?"

"Soon, I think. You are ready to return to England, I am sure."

"I have enjoyed my time in France and Paris very much, but I will not be sad to be home."

"And away from all these Musketeers." She laughed at his teasing tone.

"Not at all, Monsieur. You have been excellent guards, guides and hosts. I could not ask for a better escort to the coast." In the weeks she had been in France, King Louis' personal guard had been a constant presence at the palace and on ventures around the countryside. Caroline had been fortunate to make many of their acquaintances and she prided herself on being quite good with names.

"Well, we still will not reach Callais until the day after tomorrow. A bit more time to work on my English, yes?"

"Your English is excellent, Monsieur Guerin."

"Not as good as your French, Excellency." He smiled and bowed, moving off toward the horses. Fifteen Musketeers and her own ten personal guards moved about the camp, packing away tents and equipment.

Caroline was about to help her ladies finish packing the chests for the wagon when a galloping horse and rider caught her eye. The young one. D'Artagnan, she thought, as he reined in his horse, dismounting quickly. He looked troubled. Her sharp blue eyes missed nothing as he quickly found Athos.

"Edwards," she called out as the captain of her guards walked by.

"Mademoiselle Caroline?" In court, she adhered to the rules of conduct and propriety. But whenever possible, in private or in the country, she preferred degage etiquette. Her attendants and her guards were her friends. She relaxed at the familiar address.

"Allan...something is going on," she said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know yet. Get everyone ready. I believe I will know soon." He followed her gaze to the knot of Musketeers conferring around d'Artagnan. Athos' eyes met hers across the clearing. He quickly strode to her and bowed slightly.

"Your Excellency? A word, if you please." Caroline nodded to Edwards and joined Athos. The Musketeer looked more grave than usual, which she had not thought possible. She took in the faces of the men gathered around him. Aramis, charming and handsome with an infectious smile. He had, to her great pleasure, conversed with her in Spanish on more than one occasion. Porthos, the large man next to him, had initially made her wary. He was tall and dark with a fierceness about him. One day after a hunting expedition with the King, he'd helped her down from her horse. He was as strong as she'd imagined, but even more gentle. He had a booming laugh that let anyone in camp know where he could be found.

But now, their faces were deadly serious.

"Something is wrong," Caroline said. It wasn't a question.

"There are men on our trail. They will overtake us long before we reach Calais."

"Are these men...hostile? Or merely travelers?" They traded looks, shifted lightly.

"It is impossible to say with certainty," said Aramis. "But they had the look of a war party."

"How many? What would their purpose be?"

"Thirty...forty," answered d'Artagnan. "As to their purpose..." He looked at her pointedly.

"Ah. I see." She lifted her chin. "Men who hope to take me and ransom me."

"Would that be successful?" asked Athos.

"No," replied Caroline flatly.

"Your father not love you?" growled Porthos.

"Of course he does," she snapped, meeting his gaze. She realized he was angry on her behalf, and her tone softened. "Of course he does, but I am the fourth daughter of a minor family. My mother was a distant, but favored cousin of King Charles. When she died, he offered me a place at court. I asked to be an ambassador. I've no power, no influence. But for a woman with no desire to marry..."

"You found adventure," finished Aramis knowingly.

"I found freedom," she amended. "If this is adventure, I certainly didn't go looking for it."

"But, as a minor envoy," said Athos.

"I've no worth. I'm meant to be a pleasing dinner companion, not a political player," Caroline finished. "They were the terms I accepted when I was granted the position. I cannot be used against my country and my King."

"Expendable," muttered d'Artagnan.

"We all serve as we can," she said. She was pleased when her voice did not waiver.

"So what? We just turn her over to them?" Porthos' temper had not cooled.

"We can't hope to out run them. Not with the wagons," said Aramis.

"Leave the wagons," offered Caroline. "I don't care about clothes and gifts. I care for my ladies, for my guards."

"Can your attendants ride hard for two days? Can you?" The answer must have been written on her face, because Athos wasted little time continuing. "Even unburdened, I doubt we would out pace them, if they are truly what we believe."

Caroline had always known there was danger in this life. That one day, this might happen. Even though she had never believed it would truly come to pass, it was a terrible and easy choice.

"I will go," she said. Porthos growled and Aramis held up his hand, but whether to halt his anger or her words, she didn't know. "Perhaps, when they have me," she went on, raising her voice, "they will leave you all unharmed." Athos, much to her surprise, reached out and took her hand.

"Mademoiselle, your offer recommends you." His green eyes searched her face. "But it solves nothing. Even if they allowed us to carry on, when their ransom demands are not met, they will kill you. The death of an English noblewoman in France." She clenched Athos' warm hand with fingers that felt they had turned to ice.

"War," she whispered.

"So soon after La Rochelle? Yes, most certainly." She took a deep breath, released his hand, and raised her eyes.

"What do you suggest?"

"You will ride ahead with two Musketeers. The rest of us will either stop them or delay them as long as we can."

"Just...leave you behind?" Caroline asked incredulously.

"We will move slower, but we'll continue on as if nothing is amiss. We will serve to block your escape if they are watching and stop them if they engage. I would say that this could all be precautionary. That they are merely hunters or ordinary robbers. But...we are rarely that lucky," offered Athos, with a wry twist of his lip.

"And my people?"

"If it is to look like you are still with the main party, then they must stay," said Aramis. "They will be far better protected that way." Caroline had no better plan, nothing else to offer. She hated that her safety endangered these foolishly brave men who owed her nothing.

"Very well," she said, setting her shoulders. "I can be ready in fifteen minutes."

"I'm going with her," said Porthos. Athos eyed him expressionlessly and then nodded.

"I suppose that means you volunteer as well?" he asked Aramis.

"I suppose it does," Aramis answered with an easy smile.

"Then we'd better get ready," said Athos. Caroline nearly ran across the clearing to her attendants.

"Ladies, listen carefully."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A quarter of an our later, she stood next to her horse, ready to depart. She'd changed from a traveling dress to loose trousers, just as her side saddle had been traded out for a cross saddle. Her ladies fussed with her pack nervously. She hadn't kept anything from them. How could she? They were in danger as well.

Edwards was furious. She could see it in the way he strode over, two pistols in a scabbard dangling from his hand.

"Take these," She nodded, and swung the scabbard over her saddle. "My lady, I do not like this."

"I know. I know, Allan, nor do I. But I do not see another choice. As impetuous as they seem, I trust these Musketeers to do what they say they can, which is to keep us all alive. You will meet up with us in Callais, at an inn called The Lady of the Port." She reached out and laid her hand over the fist Allan had clenched on his sword. "Please Allan, keep my ladies safe. And yourself."

"Caroline...there are things I would have you know..."

"Then you will tell me in Calais," she interrupted gently. "For you will see me again there." His jaw bunched, but he finally nodded.

"Mademoiselle Ambassador?" Aramis stood behind her, reins in hand. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Allan held her stirrup and she swung up into her saddle. His gloved hand rested on her ankle. "Do not tarry too long, Captain Edwards," she said, looking down at him and smiling with all the warmth she could muster. "You know I hate to be kept waiting." Caroline was rewarded with a deep bow and the beginnings of a smile.

"I will do my best, my lady." She urged her horse to follow Aramis' and though she longed to, she didn't look back.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Once they cleared the trees, they galloped for a while, to put distance between themselves and the campsite, but soon slowed to a cantor and then to a trot. Caroline tried to relax, but she found herself jumping at every twig that snapped. Aramis and Porthos looked at ease and it was mildly infuriating. How could they be so damnably calm? She expected composure from soldiers, but it only served to support her suspicion that these men found themselves in trouble a great deal of the time. She looked at the Musketeer to her left.

"May I ask you something, Monsieur Pothos?" Maybe a conversation would distract her. He nodded. "Why did you want to accompany me?"

"You took a risk to live the life you wanted," answered Porthos. He gave her a shy smile and looked back out over the grassy meadow and the trees in the distance. "I admire that."

"Thank you," she said, warmth rising in her cheeks. "Though you are very much so in a minority with that opinion." When Porthos met her eyes again, he looked wistful.

"I'm used to it, Excellency."

Suddenly, his face sharpened. "Company." Caroline looked toward the tree line, where six men on horses had emerged and were riding toward them. She quickly pulled up her hood as Aramis and Porthos positioned themselves along either side of her.

Aramis blew gently on his lit musket fuse, laying the weapon across his lap.

"Pardon us, gentlemen!" called one of the men.

"That is close enough," yelled Aramis, holding up a hand. The men stopped.

"We are looking for a friend," shouted the man, wearing a deep green cloak. "She has been separated from our party."

"No lost women here," answered Porthos. Caroline kept her face down, barely breathing.

"Aramis," she whispered. "They're English."

"Yes," answered Aramis softly. "Their accents are atrocious. Do you recognize the voices?"

"I do not."

"Come now, you are certain you haven't seen her? What about your quiet friend, there?"

"We haven't seen whoever it is you're looking for, so, if you will move aside gentlemen, we are the King's Musketeers and we have an appointment to keep," replied Aramis.

"Come now, Lady Caroline. Are you going to make this difficult?" She flinched. It must have been enough, because the man began to laugh, chilling her to the bone. "My, it's good we were watching the road for anyone trying to slip away. Because that won't do at all." She looked up, but didn't lower her hood.

The six men fanned out in front of them, hands resting easily on pistol handles.

"Aramis," said Porthos quietly. "I'll take care of this and meet up with you later."

"That," said Aramis through gritted teeth, "is an awful plan."

"What choice do we have?"

"No."

"I hate running." It sounded like an apology. "Besides, you know I've been wantin' to use it." The smile he threw Aramis was mischievous, but there was something else beneath it.

"Porthos..." There was an entire conversation in their eyes that she was missing. Porthos held out a hand and Aramis hesitated before handing over his glowing fuse.

"I will meet you, Aramis," repeated Porthos firmly. He surged ahead, placing himself and his horse between them and the men.

"Stand aside. We only want the woman."

"I'm 'fraid not," rumbled Porthos.

Aramis looked at her, his eyes wild.

"Mademoiselle, in a moment, ride as fast as you can."

"Alone?" she whispered, finally frightened.

"No," answered Aramis thickly. "I'll be with you. No matter what, don't stop, don't look back. As fast as you can." She nodded, hands tight on the reins. The man in green was still yelling at Porthos.

"There is no need for you or your friend to die. Just give her over."

"No." Porthos was motionless on his horse, his hands relaxed in front of the saddle, but it was the kind of stillness before a storm. Imminent. Dangerous.

"Is one English girl really worth your life? For that will be the price."

"I pay it gladly."

Caroline's heart clenched. And then everything was chaos. Porthos threw something at the men. The earth at their feet erupted in dirt and stone. Men and horses screamed.

"Now!" bellowed Aramis. Caroline kicked her horse to a gallop, in the direction Aramis indicated before she realized what she was doing. They raced across the meadow, the sounds of gunshots fading away, and she realized Porthos wasn't coming.

And she remembered the look on Aramis' face.

She didn't stop. She didn't look back.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I swear I didn't mean to do a cliffhanger, I just get so impatient.

**Bonus points to who ever knows the source of the title.