(no subject)

[afineseamstress]

It's startling to realize how much he used to think of her.

For more than a year now, Aramis' world has been Porthos, then Porthos and Athos, it's been d'Artagnan and Constance and the friends they've made here, it's been a wedding and the plans for a new home and the hope for a child. It hasn't been her, and when Aramis did think of the Queen, it was as Her Majesty.

Never Anna.

He doesn't love her. Aramis admires her, certainly, he finds her beautiful, but this memory that lives in his heart of her now doesn't match what he remembers. He'd never experienced an ache this sharp for her at home, but now in his dreams it haunts him, a yearning for a woman who is impossible to hold, and a child that's forever removed from him.

The first time it happens, Aramis thinks the infant he dreams of must be Isabelle's.

By the third, Aramis knows it isn't.

As he sits in the kitchen alone, Porthos shooed away for fresh air and a fresh cup of coffee before him, Aramis peers blearily past it to the brandy. He's never found drink particularly soothing, not even after Savoy, but at the moment he will accept anything to calm the turmoil within him.

These dreams he has bleed further past fantasy into memory the more he resists them. Porthos had suggested a doctor when they began, and Aramis is not certain which he prefers - madness, or the certainty that's begun to coalesce. Aramis passes a hand over his eyes, but the image of a child with blue eyes does not fade.

It's certainly not Isabelle's. The boy is Anna's.

And Aramis loves him far too much.

Comments

[afineseamstress]

"Perhaps not, but this is the first time the results have been so far reaching." Athos is terrible gentle, a rarity that Aramis would normally savor, but now all he can hear is, They'll hang you, and then they'll hang me for letting it happen. Athos had accepted it in the next moment even then, and Aramis shakes his head.

"If I remember that anything has happened to you all because of it - " he begins, but how could he finish that? What could he possibly do to make up for such a transgression? Aramis groans, deep in his throat. "I do not know how to live with this, Athos."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos drops his hand to Aramis’ shoulder and squeezes gently. “You will live with it because you must.” Perhaps it is not the kindest thing to say, but it is a thought that has kept Athos going on more than one occasion. What other choice does any man have, but to accept one’s own actions, no matter how terrible or foolish?

“It would take a foolhardy man indeed to question the Queen’s honor,” he reasons. “You are lucky she is so well loved by so many."

[afineseamstress]

"And the Dauphin so celebrated," Aramis replies, for that is some comfort, even if it is hard to feel now. His son will be forever removed from his arms, but God willing, he will at least be safe.

"Is that what you do?" he asks, lifting his gaze back to Athos. "Endure? My God, Athos," Aramis breathes, heart constricting with sympathy, "Do you feel like this all the time?"

[somepoorsoul]

Athos scoffs to hide his embarrassment when Aramis strikes too close to home. He does not need to think about the wretched creature he can often be, and he will not allow Aramis to fall into despair. Not if he has to hold him back with nothing but his own strength. Instead of answering for himself (he doesn’t dare, and none of this is about him, anyway), he pulls a chair next to the other man’s and sits in it facing him. “Aramis. You are a musketeer. You survived Savoy. You will not waste your time with self-pity over something that happened in another time, and another place. Understand?"

[afineseamstress]

Aramis faces him eagerly. Athos is wise and experienced, and Aramis is hungry for any knowledge that can see him through this. "It is not pity I feel for myself," he says. Aramis' thoughts towards himself are of loathing, but more grief will surely come when this knot that squeezes at his heart unravels.

"For you, for Porthos, I am sorrowful. How will I tell him?" Athos has had a long time to live with this, and he came into their relationship with full knowledge of what Aramis has done, but Porthos is innocent. "I can't bear to hurt him, Athos."

[somepoorsoul]

“Take your time.” Athos can already imagine what he would advise at home, and it pains him to think of the betrayal he would inevitably suggest. At home, the fewer people who knew what Aramis had done, the less danger they would all be in. Here, no such danger exists, but that does not mean that telling Porthos will be easy. Porthos has a habit of taking things personally. “Choose your words carefully, and he will forgive you."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis wants to believe that, to have faith that he will have the chance to make this right, but now all he can feel is his worry. "If he does not," he says, "Or if it takes time, you must look after him," Aramis begs of Athos. "He has already lost so much he ought to have had to make him happy." Aramis' voice breaks, but he clears his throat, determined to see to this much. "If he loses the man he thought I am, he must still have you."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos shakes his head, for he knows just how much of Porthos’ heart belongs to Aramis, and that Porthos will never give that up. Athos could never serve as a replacement, but he is sure he will never have to. “I will,” he promises. “But he will not abandon you. Not over a single indiscretion, no matter how ill-conceived."

[afineseamstress]

"That is my hope," says Aramis, and he is selfish enough to mean it, "But I have never broken his heart before." His eyes heat, and Aramis resists, knowing that if he weeps now he will not stop. Somewhere quiet, he will give Isabelle the tears she deserves, and weep for so many others, but not here in Porthos' own home.

"Now I have a child with another, somewhere in time. That is something he fears - that I would be happier if I had a wife to make a family."

[somepoorsoul]

“Nowhere do you have a child, Aramis.” Even as removed from Paris and the royal court as they are, Athos speaks with a voice full of vehemence. Even here, he cannot acknowledge that the Dauphin is Aramis’ child, not out loud. “Not yet. Here, you will. Not there."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis pales for the passion in Athos' voice, and in his breast that sense of longing blooms afresh. Now that he knows the reason, the nebulous misery of his dreams at last makes sense. He can never hold the child here, and neither is it any different at home, where he must watch from afar and do his best to protect him and the Queen as only their loyal servant.

"Nowhere," he repeats and tries to mean it, but pushes the back of his hand against his mouth to stay a moan. Children are meant to be a joy, even a chief joy in Aramis' life, but every child he brings into being only comes with new sorrow.

[somepoorsoul]

Athos takes Aramis’ free hand in both of his own, squeezing it tightly. “Here, you will.” Then and there, Athos vows that he will never again speak of his own ambivalence on the subject of children, not when Aramis has had not one, but two wrenched from him. Not when his pain is palpable.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis places his other hand over Athos', and this time he cannot stay the sound in his throat, grief and gratitude warring for dominance of the sound, for he knows what the promise costs Athos.

"Thank you," he says through his tight throat. "Thank you for standing by me, Athos, for all of it. I could not bear any of this alone."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos brings their hands to his lips and kisses Aramis’ knuckles fiercely. “You will never be alone,” he promises. It is an easy promise to make; Aramis’ warmth and charm guarantees that he will never be left solitary. Athos know just how superfluous he is in that regard. But he still intends to stay by Aramis’ side as long as the man will let him.

He swallows hard, and his voice dips low when he speaks. “I love your foolish heart."

[afineseamstress]

"Oh, Athos," Aramis breathes. He pulls their joined hands over his heart, flattening Athos' palm against it. Athos does not flatter, and neither is he blind. If he can love Aramis despite his faults, then that love is true indeed, and Aramis needs his grace and his mercy now more than ever.

"I promise you, your affection will be better rewarded than with this," he says, "With all the time left to us in Darrow, I will be worthy of it."

[somepoorsoul]

Aramis’ body is warm, and his heart beats hard beneath his palm, and Athos is overwhelmed anew with affection for the man. Perhaps if they were home and in real danger, he would have the strength to hold onto his fury, but he does not have it in him here. Not now. Darrow has made Athos soft, but he cannot regret it when he knows Aramis needs gentleness most of all.

Athos smiles faintly and shakes his head - for Aramis has been proving himself worthy with ease from the moment he careened into Athos life. “You will see your way through this,” he says with pure certainty. The words are a command as much as a promise, for he suspects Aramis might require both at a time like this.

[afineseamstress]

Headstrong though he is, Aramis has never chafed under Athos' command, and he hears the missive for what it is now. You will see your way through this, he thinks, and feels a part of him that's tearing grow stronger, not hard but resilient, and he nods back at Athos.

"I will," he promises. It will not be easy, and he will weep, and there are places within him that will not be the same, but Aramis will not lay down and let this bowl him over. "For you, for Porthos, for myself."

[somepoorsoul]

Content with the answer, and with the fact that Aramis looks more settled, Athos nods, letting his hand gently fall away as he sits back in his chair. He grimaces as his thoughts drift to the utter strangeness of their predicament. “Darrow will forever be finding ways to tax our minds, it seems,” Athos says with distaste. “Now it’s memories of what is yet to come."

[afineseamstress]

"I much preferred it turning us into women, one by one," Aramis sighs. He reaches for the brandy, avoiding his now cold coffee in favor of drinking right from the neck.

"They are not all bad memories," he says, following the thread of something that feels like pride. "I remember now, our scheme to foil the Cardinal and Milady. I remember you letting go of your locket."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos nods a little and finishes his coffee, grimacing at the cold dregs and refilling his mug with brandy. His memories of the Rue Saint Jacques are still bright and fresh, etched into his mind as though he had last seen Milady only yesterday. For so long, only Madame Bonacieux has remembered that day, and he feels unexpectedly relieved to know that he is no longer quite so alone with those memories.

“It was a good scheme,” he says mildly, sipping his brandy. “Do you remember anything further?” Athos does not say about me, or for that matter, about her, though he thinks it. Perhaps it is better that a man not know his own future, but he would have to be made of stone not to wonder.

[afineseamstress]

"I - " begins Aramis, gaze going distant as he reaches for more, his mental grasping hesitant, for so much he's grasped has turned round to sting him. "I remember that it worked," he says at length, envisioning a long corridor, through which Her Majesty had processed triumphantly. He could almost smile for her magnificence, but there is more to come.

"The Queen bested the Cardinal with our help, ceasing his attempts on her life." Aramis looks down, reclaiming the brandy for another swallow. "Later that day, the King told the Court of their happy news."

He recalls Athos' stoic look, blank yet dangerous enough to strip paint to those who knew him well enough. "You gave away nothing."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos can easily picture it: the king’s entourage called to court, including his most trusted soldiers, the happy news, the dawning horror only he and Aramis would share. As long as they told no one, they would all be safe; the Queen’s position would even be strengthened. A male heir would weaken the Cardnial, and Louis would be more inclined to favor her. Everything could turn out fine, even better than before.

It could, save for Aramis’ suffering.

“The last I remember is leaving the Rue Saint Jacques,” he says, now that Aramis has a reference point for it. Better to lead him away from darker thoughts, anyway. “A few steps, and I was suddenly here.”

[afineseamstress]

"Everything felt so sanguine then," asys Aramis. "Constance was saved, she and d'Artagnan were at last honest about their feelings for one another, Milady was no longer a threat." He shakes his head. "You let her go, both in body and in spirit. I was so happy. For you and for all of us."

He truly is a fool. "How shortsighted I must be."

[somepoorsoul]

“No one see the future.” In that moment, Athos had certainly not been thinking of what might or might not happen due to Aramis’ indiscretion, and he would not have expected Aramis to foretell the future, either. If Athos had been less inclined to hopefulness in that moment, that was only due to his own burdens and his own nature. Of course Aramis had only seen the good to come; his optimism is one of the many reasons Athos loves him.

He offers a tiny smile. “What would I do if you began to expect the worst at every turn?”

[afineseamstress]

"Hope that Porthos' cheer is enough to buoy us all," says Aramis, and he truly is the reckless man his memories prove him to be, for he hopes even now that Porthos will forgive him. It is not what he deserves, but he wants it, and even with the present danger Aramis cannot conceive of a life without him.

"I think," he says carefully, "That there is more to come. I do not remember more and I do not wish to, but this feeling that has unsettled me for days is still upon me." Aramis attempts to offer a smile in return, but he's not sure he manages it. "For your sake I will try not to expect the worst."