"Where is that damned locksmith!?" growled Louis as he paced the entire length of his room several times.

Foquet watched him as he paced the room, biting his nails nervously as he did so. "Sire, I am sure that he will arrive soon. Do not fear, my Lord, we shall have that mask removed in no time!" he proclaimed lightly.

Louis whirled about to glare at him, his blue-green eyes narrowed to half slits. "Damn it, Foquet! I hate the fact that I have to wait. Why must it be this way?"

Staring nervously upon his king, Foquet was at a loss for words. He could not think of a way in which to reassure him. Louis was not one to rely upon another when it came to making choices. The fact that he was wearing a mask upon his face and the exile that had been wrongly imposed on him did not sit well upon his shoulders. He knew well that Louis was eager to return to the palace, and he wanted to do so as soon as possible.

What if we are discovered? he wondered. What if our whereabouts are known and Louis is taken to the Bastille once more? How shall we liberate him if that should occur? What will we do if our King is lost to us once more?

Shaking his head, Foquet narrowed his blue eyes at Louis and promptly replied, "I am sure that the locksmith is on his way here as we speak. Once he removes the mask from your face, we can make plans for your return to the palace. It won't belong before you have your place upon the throne, Your Majesty!"

Louis stopped pacing back and forth, glaring at Foquet from behind the mask. "I am not accustomed to this, Foquet. I am used to have people at my beck and call. This enforced exile sickens me, as do these horrid surroundings. Can you not see that I am at odds here? Can you not quicken your search for a wretched locksmith?" he countered haughtily.

Swallowing nervously, he said, "My Lord, I understand your unease, but. . . ."

"You understand my unease?" repeated Louis, an incredulous tone filling his voice.

"Y-yes," Foquet stammered, "I do."

Throwing back his head, Louis released a loud guffaw. "I doubt that you understand what it is that I am going through, Foquet. You have no idea what it is like to wear a wretched iron mask upon your face. None, whatsoever!" he shot back heatedly.

"Sire. . . ."

"I demand that you find the nearest locksmith, Foquet. I am tired of waiting," said Louis as he walked across the room towards the window.

"I have sent for him, Sire," said Foquet. "He should. . . ."

"You have sent for a man whom you believe will not betray me, Foquet. Though I know that he will. Yet, that fact does not bother me. For once I am upon the throne, I can have him beheaded. But as I said, I am tired of waiting for this locksmith of yours. Send a footman into the village and fetch the one here," Louis commanded as he gazed out of the window.

"But Sire,. . . ."

Louis turned to face Foquet, his eyes shining bright behind the mask. "I do not care, Foquet. By now, Philippe must know that I am alive. Though he and I are not close, we do share the same blood. Philippe's instincts must have told him that I still live and I am sure that he will set out soon on a mission to find me," he countered tightly.

"Sire. . . ." he countered, his eyes wide with fear.

Before Louis could utter a reply, a knock sounded upon the door. Both Louis and Foquet turned to stare at the closed door, their hearts pounding deep within their chests. Foquet shifted from one foot to the other as he waited for Louis to issue him an order. When none was issued, Foquet moved forth to answer the door. His eyes narrowed as he gazed upon one the maids as she stood within the doorway.

"Yes?" he asked in a clipped tone.

Twisting the hem of her apron between her hands, Chalice caught a glimpse of a person wearing an iron mask as he stood within the room. Her heart raced as she realized that her friend,Yves, had not been joking when he had commented upon seeing a man wearing an iron mask within the manor. She now knew that he was the one that had been imprisoned within the Bastille and that he was supposedly dead.

Yet, he is very much alive, she said to herself. Why is he here? What will become of us if it is known that we have housed the King's impostor?

Shaking her head, she said, "I have come to inform you that there is a visitor at the door. He says that you have sent for him and that he cannot stay long since the rain has begun. He says he is eager to return to his home and wishes to take care of the business that you have sent him for as quickly as possible."

"Thank you," he replied irritably, quickly grabbing one of her wrists within his hand.

Turning towards Louis, he bid him a quick farewell and hurried down the hall with the girl at his heels. He whirled about suddenly, pinning her against the wall. He pressed his face close to hers as he gazed down at her. He sensed the fear within her, commending her for keeping a brave front before him as he held her against the wall.

Releasing his hold on her, he said, "Who are you?"

"I am known as Chalice, Monsieur. I am but a maid in your employ," she stammered as she rubbed her wrists several times.

"Where have you come from?" he continued as he assessed her from head to toe.

Before he could pull a reply from her, Louis' stern voice filled the semi-darkened corridor. They turned in unison to see him step into the hallway, his masked face obscured even further by the shadows. Uttering a slight cry, Chalice hurried down the hallway, eager to get away from such a dangerous man. Foquet stared after her, lamenting that he had lost a chance to have taken her to his bed.

"I would concentrate on my dilemma, Foquet, and not on how you can entice a young maid into your bed," Louis replied with distaste. "I believe there is someone at the door waiting to make your acquaintance. Why don't you go see who that person is?"

Foquet swallowed nervously and said, "Aye, Sire, I shall go do so."

He rushed down the hallway, eager to spend a few moments to himself. Louis was swiftly getting on his nerves and he was eager to get rid of him. Though he realized that Louis was his King, his arrogance and callous demeanor was too much for him at times. The sooner the mask was taken off of Louis' face, the sooner he's be able to enjoy his life once more. He hurried towards the main door, thoughts of what he'd do once Louis was back at the palace running through his head with every step he took.



 

Pulling on one of Marie's simple gown, Molly made her way towards the kitchens using the secret entrance that she had found within her room while examining it one day. Her chestnut mane was slightly disheveled, for she did not have a chance to run a brush through it. Madame' had summoned her yet again, informing her that she was to return to her prior duties at once.

Molly quickly assumed that Marie had finally returned to the castle and hurriedly pulled on one of her gowns. She took a corner of the corridor a tad too quickly, coming upon a frazzled Philippe as he marched up the stairs in the direction of her chambers. His blue-green eyes narrowed as he stared up at her flushed face.

"Where are you going?" he asked as he came to stand beside her, curling his hands about her forearms.

"I-I was going to the kitchens, Sire," she stammered.

"Dressed like this?" he asked as he marched up the stairs, pulling her within him.

"Well, yes," she breathed. "I did not want to be noticed."

"Hmmmph!" Philippe grunted as he pulled her through the door that led to her room and promptly pushed her into a chair. Glaring down at her, he wondered how it was that she had come across the secret passage. His eyes narrowed as he sought to make sense of what it was that she was up to. "How did you come across the secret corridor?"

Swallowing nervously, she said, "I hit a panel on the wall one day, while cleaning up my chambers."

"Cleaning up your chambers?" he repeated, a finely arched brow raised in her direction.

"Y-yes," she stammered, crushing the fabric of her skirt between her hands as she sought to give him a reasonable explanation.

"There are servants here at the palace who are in charge of that, Marie. You don't have to do that yourself."

She nodded at him as she slowly replied, "I dislike idleness, Sire."

"Do you?" he questioned bluntly as he knelt before her.

"Yes."

"That never bothered you before, Marie."

"It does now."

"Why?"

She pushed herself to her feet, walking towards the fireplace. She stared at the ornaments upon the mantle, a sad smile upon her lips. Her role within the palace was no longer of importance, she knew. Yet she could not help but lament that she would no longer feel the King's arms about her. She acknowledged that she had fallen deeply in love with him and the thought of Marie's having that which she considered to be her own greatly disturbed her.

She swiped at a tear as it rolled down her cheek, mentally chastising herself for being so weak before the King. I cannot let him see me cry, she said to herself. He will know that something is wrong and he'll do all that he can to find out what it is that bothers me. Be strong, Molly, and push him out of your heart before it is much too late. For if you keep postponing the inevitable, you'll never be able to leave the palace freely.

Turning towards him, she smiled as she raised her chin in defiance. "I wish to go home, Milord," she said lightly as she evaded his question.

He nodded as rose to his feet, aching to pull her within the circle of his arms. "Then I shall take you," he replied as he looked back at her.

"I wish to go alone," she demanded.

"I cannot allow that, Marie," he said tautly, his face a mask.

Her heart raced as she realized that he was not going to relent in letting her leave the palace alone. Yet I must try to do my best in trying to change his mind. If I am found here by Madame', I shall surely be in trouble. It is adamant that I return to the kitchens at once. Marie is surely to arrive here at any moment.

"Sire, I shall return to the palace," she said. "This, I promise ye."

Philippe's eyes narrowed even further as he sensed her nervousness. He realized that his assumptions about her keeping something from him were, in fact, correct. What she was hiding, he did not know. But he was determined to find out. Crossing his arms about his chest, he gazed back at her with indifference.

"If I allow this, you shall keep your word?" he asked coldly.

She nodded, her cheeks flushed even further. "Aye, Sire," she breathed. "Ye have my word."

"Very well," he replied, "you may return home. But. . . ."

"But?" she prodded, her brow furrowed slightly.

"Aramis shall go with you," he stated bluntly.

Her eyes widened as she realized that he would allow her to return home without an escort. This cannot be! she said to herself. Why is this happening to me? Why must this be so? Shaking her head to clear, she tried to still her racing heart.

"That is not necessary, Sire," she said as the door to her chambers swung open.

"I think it is," said Philippe as he turned to gaze at the girl that had so quickly entered the room. "State your purpose and leave."

Colette turned a bright red as she gazed upon the King. Taking a quick curtsy, she said, "Sire!"

"Go on, girl," he grated. "I do not have all day."

Colette nodded and turned to face Molly. "The seamstress has arrived and wishes to make a few adjustments upon your gown, Milady. Madame' says that it would not do to keep her waiting," she replied as she curtsied once more before the King and hurried out of the room.

"Thank you," Molly called after her. Turning towards Philippe, she gave him a small smile. "I must go."

"We'll finish this discussion at another time," said Philippe as he walked up to her and pulled her tight against him.

"Aye, Milord," she breathed.

Against his better judgment, Philippe lowered his head and caught Molly's mouth with his own. Molly gave herself up to his kiss, her body molding itself to his own. She wanted very much to surrender herself to him and forget everything that was happening around her. Yet she knew that she could not. Madame' was waiting for her and would come searching for her soon if she did not show up at the kitchens.

Pulling herself out of his grasp, she issued him a soft goodbye and rushed out of the room. She hurried down the corridor, unsettling several of the servants as she raced past them. She continued down the stairs, pausing momentarily to catch her breath. Gazing about the empty corridor, she made her way towards the kitchens. All the while she thought about the man that she had left standing within the room she had once occupied.

~

~

Staring at the palace as it loomed before her, Marie smiled with pleasure. She was finally where she was supposed to be. She closed her eyes, anticipating the moment when she would have the love of her life within her arms. She accepted the footman's hand as he helped her out of the carriage, smiling as she walked past him.

Nicole came to stand beside her, a broad smile upon her own lips as she noted the happiness that clearly showed upon Marie's face. "You are home, my child," she said as she took Marie's hand within her own.

"Yes, Nanny, I am home," she replied. "I am eager to see the King. I have missed him so much."

At that very moment, Philippe walked through the palace doors. His entire entourage followed at his heels as they tried to keep up with the livid King. None took notice of Marie as they raced after their King. Marie's eyes widened as she realized that the King had taken no notice of her as he'd walked past her. Her cloak fell from her shoulders as she gathered her skirt between her hands and raced after him herself.

"Milord!" she cried as she tried to catch up to him.

Philippe stopped in his tracks and turned to gaze at the petite beauty that ran in his direction. His eyes narrowed as he became aware of his royal advisors. Aramis, Porthos, and Athos were among them, their faces void of emotion. Dismissing his royal entourage, he waited for one of the Musketeers to berate him for causing quite a stir within the palace. Receiving no reply from them, he crossed his arms about his chest and continued to wait for them to say something.

"Milord!" breathed Marie as she came to stand beside him. "What is wrong?"

"Who are you?" he asked as he gazed down at her.

Taken slightly aback by the way he'd addressed her, she said, "It's me, Marie."

Philippe's eyes narrowed as he took in the expensive gown that she wore. Her hair was swept up into tight ringlet's, loosely framing her face. His eyes narrowed even further as he realized that her eyes were of an amber hue and not the light brown that he had thought them to be. His suspicions increased as he became aware of the fact that the woman standing before him was not the one that he had kissed moments before.

"Marie?" he questioned.

"Yes, Sire," she said as she took in his luxuriously clothed form.

"Your gown," he commented, "it is different."

Looking down at the bright blue color and the low décolletage' of her gown, she smiled. "The seamstress prepared this gown for me so that I could wear it just for you, Louis," she replied.

"Really?" he prodded further as he noted the slight change in the way she spoke.

"Yes. I trust that it is pleasing to you?" she asked as she twirled around before him.

"It is. Will you be wearing it on your return home?" he continued as he met Aramis' disturbed gaze with one of his own.

"Home?" she murmured as she stopped twirling.

"Yes, you told me not too long ago that you wished to return home."

Marie frowned, realizing that there was something that she did not know. She could not fathom as to why he thought that she had told him that she'd return home, for she had not been at the palace up until now. Unless, someone else has taken my place while I was gone. But who? she wondered. Who could do such a thing?

Deciding that she would go along with whatever it was that he said, she smiled slightly. "Forgive me, Louis," she breathed as she turned away from him. "I have forgotten myself."

"Have you?" he countered.

"Yes, I have been preoccupied as of late and I tend to forget things," she covered lightly.

"You shall be returning home, then?" he prodded as Aramis came to stand beside him.

"Yes," she said as she turned to face him once more.

"Very well, Aramis shall go with you on your journey," he replied as he waited for her to launch into one of her tirades.

She surprised him by calmly replying, "Very well, Your Majesty."

"You accept my wish that you take Aramis with you?"

"Yes, I do."

"How odd," he murmured, thinking that he had not heard what she had said correctly.

"Your Majesty?" questioned Aramis as he noted the slight frown upon Philippe's face.

"It's nothing, Aramis," he returned as he slid into his role as King once more. "Why did you follow me, Marie?"

"I was worried about you, Louis," she said as Nicole came running towards her.

"My child, have you no qualms about the state of your health?"said Nicole as she wrapped the cloaks about her charge's shoulders. "Come, let's go inside."

"Yes, Nanny," Marie agreed as she stepped forth and placed a kiss upon Philippe's lips. "I will see you again soon, Milord."

"Yes," Philippe murmured irritably, "you shall."

He watched her walk away, his head churning with all sorts of thoughts. He no longer doubted that there was something amiss with Marie. What had just occurred proved to him that Marie had indeed been keeping something from him. The woman he'd just spoken was not the one that he had kissed moments ago. Of that, he was sure.

Whoever this woman was, she was surely an impostor. Yet he wondered as to why Marie would go to such lengths to keep him at bay. Why could she not trust me with her troubles? Why did she have to keep this from me? Could it be that she is in fear of her life? he wondered. Is that the reason in which she has kept so much from me? If so, where is she now?

"Philippe?" prodded Aramis as he stared down at him.

"Hmmmm?" murmured as he watched the woman who called herself Marie march into the castle.

"What is wrong?"

Turning towards him, he said, "Do you remember well what Marie looked like?"

"Yes, I do," said Aramis, frowning as he tried to make sense of what Philippe was trying to say.

"Can you find her for me?"

"Y-yes, but. . . . is she not the one who just entered the palace?" stammered Aramis, momentarily flustered.

"Philippe, Aramis," supplied Athos as he approached them, "I suspect that there is something amiss here."

Philippe nodded, his blonde hair falling across his brow as he looked down momentarily. "As do I, Athos, but I fear that I know naught what it is," he admitted.

"Shall we keep close tabs on her?" asked Porthos as he joined the group, pulling his saber from its scabbard and inspecting it for flaws.

"If it not too much to ask, yes," Philippe replied.

Porthos returned the sword back to its place, his hand falling upon Philippe's shoulder. "We have given you our loyalty, Philippe. Whatever you need, we shall be there to assist you," he stated firmly.

Philippe turned away as he felt his insecurities rise, just then. He owed them so much, he knew. They had given him back his life. Yet at times, he felt as if he were failing them. They believed in him and did all they could to help him lead France. Yet he sometimes doubted that he could do so. There was so much he did not know and so little time in which to accomplish things.

There's also Louis, Philippe. Aside from the problems that have stemmed just now, Louis is still a threat. Your instincts tell you that he lives, but not knowing this for sure, unsettles you, his libido replied.

I'm aware of that, he returned.

Can you rule your country and keep her safe?

I shall try.

Then do so, for all will be lost if you don't succeed!

Raising his chin with determination, he issued the three Musketeers a set of orders and watched as they set off to complete them. His eyes shined as he told himself that all would be well. He vowed to catch Louis before he were able to return to the palace and wreak havoc on them all. Most of all, he vowed to expose Marie's betrayal. For he was sure that there was something amiss with her and he was eager to know just what that was.