A/N I had a wee idea for another story! I love the idea of a female d'Artagnan and the relationship she would have with Athos, so I decided to investigate it a bit. I've read a couple of other fics based around this idea, which I have loved, but I am in no way attempting to infringe on anyone else's ideas. An entirely original story, I promise! :)

I have no idea how long it's going to be, but there's always a bit of adventure to be had! I am open to suggestions or ideas of where you want the story to go, so please take the opportunity to let me know what you think.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!

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Charline couldn't believe she had gotten away with this for so long. For six months she had been living amongst them, training and fighting beside them, becoming one of them – the inseparables. No one knew her secret. She knew the punishment if she was caught, but she was determined to keep going. The threat of flogging or even execution wasn't going to stop her being with them.

She had never expected to find her life here. She hadn't really expected to find any kind of life again after her father was murdered in front of her. If she thought about that moment she could still feel the grief strongly enough to taste it, but she didn't have time for that. She had to maintain her lie, and wallowing in grief was not going to help her do that. Sometimes at night, after a few hours in a tavern where she would pretend to drink more than she actually did, she would let herself have a moment or two to think about her father, and to wonder if he would be proud of her. He would be terrified for her, she knew, but really he had made her ready for this. Even in Gascony it was not normal for a girl to learn to fight with fists and swords, but in the absence of a son, Charline had been the choice for passing on his knowledge to. She thanked God every day that he had, or she would never be where she was now.

If she was honest with herself she could've easily died six months ago, on the day she had first entered Paris and that dark, sinister woman had attempted to seduce her. There was something about that woman that gave Charline shivers. She could've died on her second day in Paris, when she marched into the musketeers' garrison and demanded a fight to the death. If her friends had not been such honourable men she would not have seen the end of that day.

Now, thanks to Porthos, she was stronger than ever and could use her slim size to dance around her opponent in a physical fight. Aramis had trained her to fire with deadly accuracy, both pistols and muskets, which had come in extremely handy over the last few months. Athos had made sure she had never been better with a sword, although she would keep pushing herself until she could beat him.

They were her only three friends in the entire world, the only ones who had her back, who cared what happened to her, and not one of them knew the truth. She felt guilty about it, but immensely grateful that for some reason their keen observations and ability to see everything that went on around them didn't seem to work on her.

But then, her disguise was pretty good. Before she and her father had left Gascony he had dressed her as a young man, concerned about thieves and bandits on the road to Paris. He had never told her why they were going, why they had left in such a hurry, but she hadn't questioned him when he presented her with leather trousers and a jacket, old tattered riding boots and a hat. She had squirmed a bit but let him cut her hair too, her black tresses now varying in length from her chin to brush her shoulders. Now she looked like a slightly feminine 20-year-old boy. Who couldn't grow facial hair.

Aramis had taken to teasing her about her lack of beard of late, pointing out that he had never seen her shave on any of the mornings he had appeared to collect her for early duty. She just shrugged it off, trying to look a bit pissed off about it, but inwardly amused. Aramis was so warm, so caring, his teasing never held any malice, and was never designed to hurt. She envied his ease with other people, but she was trying to emulate some of his more charismatic traits, with a fair degree of success.

Three big brothers, it was more than she could ever hope for. She had two older sisters, but they were much older and had been long married and far away by the time she was old enough to miss them. She had never felt so protected, so part of something. As any little sister would she got annoyed with their over-protectiveness at times. Athos especially could be wary about letting her get involved in dangerous situations, like the whole mess with Vadim, and that was without knowing that she was, in fact, a girl.

She loved every minute of it though. She loved the freedom of being a man in Paris, the thrill of fighting, the pride of working alongside the musketeers. She loved Athos, Porthos and Aramis. What she didn't love quite so much was standing around on guard duty for hours, or stable duty, or dealing with three drunken musketeers, or lying to Constance Bonacieux, who she felt could've been a good friend for a young woman in Paris.

This may have been her most hated moment of all though, in the last six months. This moment, right now. Forget being strapped to dynamite, or being forced to protect slave traders, forget the threat of the court of miracles, or having to make a woman believe her baby was dead, if only for a moment. It was this, and Charline couldn't work out why.

"D'Artagnan? You with us?" Porthos nudged her with his shoulder, nearly sending her flying as always.

"Yes, why?" Her tone was sullen, and she still couldn't work out why.

Aramis obviously noticed. "Problem, d'Artagnan?"

She just shrugged. She was aware of Porthos and Aramis sharing a look over her head.

"Come on now, d'Art. A room full of beautiful young women? Not a bad way to spend the afternoon, don't you think?" Porthos teased her.

"If you say so." She tried to keep her voice lighter, but her eyes were firmly fixed on Athos and the blonde he was talking to.

Porthos followed her gaze. "You're not jealous are you d'Artagnan?"

Her whole body froze instantly.

"You've still got a chance with her if you want it. She hates him anyway, it's obvious." Aramis spoke confidently, but d'Artagnan snorted. That woman did not hate Athos, it was perfectly clear.

The problem was, that Charline d'Artagnan had just realised, in one instant, that she only had two big brothers. Two big brothers, and a friend that she was very much in love with.

Oh god.

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"You're not jealous are you d'Artagnan?"

The words rang through her head continuously as they rode back to the barracks later. An innocent remark that had set off a chain reaction of realisation. How the hell had she not noticed this before? And what the hell was she going to do now?

They were still caught up in this business with Ninon, and Athos seemed particularly distracted by it, which wasn't making d'Artagnan's life any easier at this moment. How could she not have realised how different her feelings were for this quiet, troubled musketeer? Ignorance had really been bliss.

They rode into the garrison, Athos leading the way with Porthos and Aramis bickering quietly as usual behind him. D'Artagnan trailed at the rear, thoughts and emotions whirling in her head. God, she was being such a girl about this. She dismounted quickly, handing the reins over to a ready stable boy with a half-hearted smile, and walked quietly to the trough in the corner, reaching over to splash her face with the cold water and try to sort her thoughts out. She jumped out of her skin when Athos spoke behind her.

"Everything alright d'Artagnan?

"Oh, um, yeah, of course. Why shouldn't it be?" He voice only wobbled once, and lightly.

Athos was staring at her with that look in his eyes, a look of deep concern and slight confusion. It was the way he mostly looked at her when she went quiet, and for the first time d'Artagnan realised that the swooping sensation she always felt when he did was her heart skipping a beat. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but was interrupted by Treville's voice sailing down from the balcony.

"D'Artagnan? Up here please. Alone."

She looked up at the captain in surprise. She couldn't remember the last time he had asked to speak to her alone. Athos, Aramis and Porthos obviously couldn't either, as they were all gaping at the captain in astonishment, and some confusion.

Without saying anything to them she stepped away from Athos and moved towards the steps, her heart now beating again but banging loudly against her ribs as she tried to swallow the sudden fear that Treville had somehow found out the truth. They would all hate her for the liar she was. Athos would hate her.

Moments later she entered the captain's office, through the door that he held open and closed firmly behind her.

"Sit down please."

Oh my. This was serious. She had never seen the captain looking quite like this. With a nod and a quiet 'sir' she did as he asked. She heard him sigh as he moved round his desk to sit across from her. He stared at her for a few moments, but didn't say anything.

"Is something wrong sir?" This time her voice definitely wobbled.

Treville cleared his throat. "D'Artagnan, there's something you need to know. Well, a few things actually."

Now she was genuinely confused. She waited for him to speak.

"I should have told you the moment you arrived, but I didn't think I needed to then, and I hoped I wouldn't need to later." He stood up from the desk and moved to pace behind it, clearly agitated. Eventually he stopped and looked at her, a strange sadness in his eyes. "When you came to Paris with your father, you were coming here. I knew your father d'Artagnan."

D'Artagnan's eyes widened as she realised what he was saying. If he knew her father, then he could have known that he never had a son, that she...oh shit.

"I know the truth, Charline. I always have."