Staring at the man who had brought her back to her chambers, Molly felt herself grow cold as a sense of apprehension gripped her. So much had taken place tonight and she was unsure of what to do. The man that had escorted her back to her chambers was still around and it infuriated that he insisted on staying with her till it was safe for him to go. He was, at this very moment, lounging against the window sill of her chambers.

Her assistants had come to help her with her nightly rituals, but she had shooed them away since she was not about to undress and bathe when there was a man she did not know within her quarters. They had protested to Molly's decree that they depart, but had left her, nonetheless.

She released a pent-up sigh, her brown eyes narrowed as she gazed upon the man sitting upon the window sill. She wished desperately that he would disobey his orders and leave her to her own devices, but she knew that he would never do so. He was, after all, a Musketeer, and he honored his King's orders to the fullest extent.

Sadly, she sat upon the edge of her bed, hoping that someone would arrive and let them know that all was well. She did not know whether she could withstand the man's presence much longer. Her patience was wearing thin, and she was tempted to exit her chambers and demand that she be told just what it was that was going on.

~

~

"But 'he' is 'the' twin," replied Anne as she pushed herself onto her feet and paced the entire parlor floor, conscious of the servants that had promptly entered the room. "Surely a twin must know if he lives or not?"

Philippe narrowed his eyes at his mother, their blue-green depths darkening with anger. "That I do not know. The ties between these 'two' twins are not that strong. Therefore, it is hard to tell whether the good one knows if the bad one lives," he said sarcastically.

Anne's eyes widened as she noted the sarcasm within his voice. "Don't use that tone with me, young man. You are not the sort to act this way. I understand that you are distressed about the entire affair, but the tones and manners that you are adopting do not become you," she scolded.

Philippe's eyes widened as he stared back at his mother with disbelief. "How can you say that?" he roared, startling everyone within the room. "You know as well as I that this role was not my choosing. How can you berate me, when all I am doing is following that which I was asked to do!"

Aramis jumped to his feet and orders the servants out of the room. He flipped the lock upon the door, his blue eyes taking in the stormy scene before him. Philippe was very disgruntled at having his mother berate him, he knew, and he would do his best to calm him down. If he were to continue with tirade, all of France would know that the man upon the throne was not the true King.

"He has a point, Anne. We did ask him to take Louis' place. Therefore, he is not at fault. The tones and manners he is adopting are those with which we have instructed him. Therefore, you cannot fault him for using them," he calmly replied as he walked to the sideboard and poured himself a drink.

Anne's eyes narrowed as she turned to face Aramis. "I understand that, Aramis, but in my presence my son does not need to use such manners and tones," she said irritably.

"He does, actually," Aramis reiterated. "We know naught of the dangers that lurk within the palace, Anne. At any given time, one of us may be accosted and done away with. Philippe does well in keeping with his charade."

"I understand our plight, Aramis," Anne returned, "but he is my son. He is unlike his brother. He does not need to play the role that he has been given when he is within our presence. He is so much better than his twin. If he continues to play the part, he'll become just like his brother."

"He will not, Anne," Athos interjected as he came to stand beside a livid Philippe. "It is good that the boy learns all aspects of the many temperaments that a person is capable of. It allows him to grow and know which suit him best. Just because he is always within his role, does not mean that he has forgotten the person that he has always been."

Anne stared at her youngest son and saw that Athos had made a very important point. Philippe was making all those around him believe that he was indeed their King. Yet she was afraid of losing him to the same cold and callous manner that befit his brother. She did not want Philippe to become the man that Louis had been.

Yes, France needed a King. That much she knew. Yet she did not want her youngest son to fall prey to the desires that had once belonged to his brother. Philippe was too good of heart, of that she was sure. Yet she could not help but feel a sense of apprehension at the thought of his becoming the very man that Louis had once been.

"Very well," she said as she took a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves. "I think that I shall retire for the night. Everything that has transpired tonight has been taxing and I fear that I cannot hold out much longer. My body has become weary and it seeks a bit of rest. I bid you all goodnight."

She came to stand before Philippe, curving a hand beneath his chin. "Be still, my son. I love you dearly. It is just that I fear for your safety. I lost you once and I am not willing to lose you again," she whispered as she placed a warm kiss upon his forehead.

"You will not lose me, Mother. I don't intend to fall prey to the role that I have been given. I will always retain the man that I am inside. You needn't fear that I will become an exact replica of my brother. I am who I am, and no one else can change that," he replied as he wrapped his arms around her and held her to him.

Anne felt the tremor that shook through him as she stood within his embrace. She knew well the battle that raged within him. For playing the role of his brother was not an easy task. She returned his embrace and slowly disentangled herself out of his grasp. She hurried away and unlocked the parlor door. She needed a moment of respite and rushed away to seek it.

Philippe watched as the parlor door closed and swallowed over the lump that had begun to form within his throat. Her safety, and that of his people, was very much at stake. Taking a deep breath, he gaze Athos, Aramis, and Porthos a curt nod and promptly exited the parlor.

He, too, need a respite from all that had taken place. He needed to place his thoughts into some semblance of order. To do that, he needed to redirect his anxiety. He decided to go in search of Marie, for she was always able to redirect his attention. Grinning, he walked down the hall in search of the woman that had caught his attention from the moment he had met her.