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[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.

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[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."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos can only nod and trust what Aramis says, for as much as he hates this talk of hunches and bad feelings, he knows how irrational Darrow’s magic can be. Whatever power has dropped these memories into Aramis’ mind will dole them out however it sees fit. “Whatever you remember,” he says, clasping Aramis’ hand again, “you are a long way for Paris. You have a new life here.” And for all he fights against that very fact, Athos is glad that Aramis has been given this happiness.

[afineseamstress]

As absorbed as Aramis is in his confusion and grief, he has not missed the way that Athos bolsters him against future revelations, nor the way he freely offers his strength. Lifting their hands, Aramis kisses Athos' knuckles with all the gratitude in his heart, refusing to release him after. "Thank God for you," he says, and will not let Athos brush such a thing aside, for it is true. Without Athos at home, Aramis would surely go mad, and it cannot be much different in Darrow.

"If I remember more," he says, "Of you, of her, do you wish to know it?" Aramis licks his lips, nervous, but it must be said. "I know you withheld my indiscretion with the Queen out of kindness. I would do you the same courtesy."

[somepoorsoul]

Skeptical as always that he deserves such flattery, Athos presses his lips together and ducks his head. He has no doubt that Aramis would do well enough without him, for he is strong, and brave, and good under all the recklessness. But he is glad for the chance to look after him, and glad Aramis does not have to brave this storm alone, no matter how able he might be to do so.

He keeps his head bowed and closes his eyes as he considers the question. Athos knows he should say no - that is the safer path. But it is harder to shake Anne’s memory than he is willing to admit most days, and he still wonders what happened to her after he left her standing in the dusty street. If she is dead, then does that make him a coward, unable to kill her himself, but glad to let her die at some brigand’s hands in exile? But if she yet lives, what then? If he never knows, will that truly make him content? It seems unlikely.

Slowly, Athos nods. “Better to know than to always wonder."

[afineseamstress]

Though he stays close, Aramis lets Athos work to his decision in silence. If he wishes to know, Aramis will tell him everything, and not for a moment can he believe Milady will return to best him. There may be a part of Athos yet ruled by her, but Aramis knows she will not break him a second time.

When Athos nods, Aramis does the same, lifting a hand to cup Athos' cheek. "Then I will tell you," he says, "I swear," and rubs his thumb against Athos' lower lip. Attempting to assuage Athos' pain is a welcome respite from languishing in his own, and Aramis leans in to kiss his cheek.

"You will not be alone in that, either."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos leans close enough to let their foreheads touch, brushing his finger down Aramis’ cheek. He draws strength from the light contact, pulling himself back from the brink of memory, from the image of Anne kneeling defiantly before him, facing his sword with eyes of flint. Aramis’ are the eyes that fill his sight now, and Athos breathes in the steadying scent of him.

“I know,” he says, and softly presses their lips together.

[afineseamstress]

Fingers feather light on Athos' chin, Aramis tips his face into the kiss, the faint scrape of Athos' chapped lips a balm that soothes his most ragged places. "Will you be here?" he asks, resting his forehead against Athos' after. "Will you help me tell him?"

[somepoorsoul]

"Of course." Athos gently strokes his cheek, as though doing so might soothe the worry from his face. "Porthos is a forgiving man," he reminds Aramis, and Athos should know. He has had to seek Porthos' forgiveness more times than he would like, and Porthos has always accepted with more gentleness that Athos is sure he deserves.