The Delivery

Sylvie stepped carefully around the refugee camp avoiding getting run over by exuberant children. It wasn't easy with the extra weight she was carrying. Athos and her second child was due any day now.

"Raoul," she called to her three year old son. He was getting ahead of her.

"I have him," Aramis caught the little boy making him giggle in his arms. "Are you ready to go home?"

The First Minister of France had accompanied Sylvie to the refugee camp when Athos was called to the Palace by the queen. Aramis was interested in the conditions particularly for the children. There were so many children left orphaned due to the war as well as sickness.

"I'm fine," Sylvie said slightly out of breath. "As I was saying most of the orphaned children have been taken in by couples living here or adopted out," she smiled to think of the four year old child Olivia, Constance and d'Artagnan had adopted after having lost two of their own while Constance had only been a few months gone with each of them and not being able to conceive again.

Aramis gave her a dubious look, but chose not to say anything only listening to her telling him about the children.

"There are still a few more," she said.

She took a step forward before feeling a sharp stab of pain in her back. She grimaced taking a deep breath.

"Uncle Mis," Raoul said.

"Yes, cher?" Aramis asked.

"Mama's back hurt," the little boy said.

Sylvie grimaced for a different reason this time. "You try carrying something the size of a large cannon ball in your stomach," she scoffed.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Aramis asked. "Because Athos will skewer me if something happens to you."

"I'm fine," Sylvie insisted, but then the pain hit again. She couldn't hold it in this time, nor could she deny it. "Okay, I may have been mistaken," she made a pained moan clutching her large belly.

Aramis turned around looking at the men the queen insisted follow him around when he was outside of the palace. It rankled a bit; he carried his own weapons on his person after all and he had been a Musketeer.

"You Cornett, return to the palace and find Athos and bring him back here."

"But Minister…"

"I said go," Aramis ordered and finally the man acquiesced leaving him with only one other man. "Sylvie, is there a midwife here?"

"Yes," single words were about all she could do for the time being. "Madame Beaumont," she finally said.

"You find Madame Beaumont," Aramis ordered the other man giving him a good glare before he could protest.

"We should get you somewhere comfortable," Aramis offered her his arm for her to lean on.

"Mama," Raoul said looking distressed.

"It's all right, mon petite," Sylvie said reaching out to brush her hand through her son's loose curls. He was quite the mixture of his two parents. His hair was a dark brown and all curls and his skin was somewhere between Sylvie and Athos. But his eyes were all Athos; a green that seemed to change to nearly blue at times like his father's.

"Sylvie," Rochelle, Sylvie's friend came running up to them. Madame Beaumont, an older grey haired woman, was close behind followed by Aramis' guard.

"There's a place not far from here," Madame Beaumont took up a place on Sylvie's other side helping her along.

"This is my old room," Sylvie smiled.

"Awe this is where you and Athos spent…"

"Aramis," Sylvie gave the cheeky man a pointed look.

"Ah yes," he looked properly chastised. "Well then, Madame, Mademoiselle, I shall leave you to it. I'll watch Rao…ow," he grimaced.

Sylvie was squeezing Aramis' hand for all she was worth whimpering. "Rochelle, would you please take Raoul out."

Aramis looked between the two women confused. "Sylvie."

When Rochelle had left the room with Raoul in her arms Sylvie looked over at Aramis with pleading eyes. "Rochelle saw her mother die in childbirth. Please stay."

"That's not really proper," Aramis began.

Sylvie snorted. "Since when do you worry about what is proper?"

"When it's my brother's wife," he said.

She considered reminding Aramis of the fact she and Athos weren't technically married, but then the pain returned. Besides, she really didn't feel like explaining this to Madame Beaumont; a woman with very strong feelings on what she deemed proper behavior. "Sylvie, he shouldn't be here," Madame Beaumont spoke up looking disapproving.

Sylvie really couldn't care less what she thought of Aramis staying at a time like this though. "Madame, please only worry about get this baby out of me," Sylvie's teeth were gritted. She was sweating quite a bit now.

Madame Beaumont huffed shoving a bowl of water and a rag over to Aramis. "You stay over there near her head," she told him sternly.

Aramis decided nodding would be the best response at the moment. He let her keep hold of his hand throughout grateful it wasn't his writing or sword hand. Using the wrag and cool water, he wiped Sylvie's brow.

It had been a long time, but this wasn't the first birth he was witness to. He saw his mother deliver his baby sister when he was about seven. Unfortunately the baby didn't make it past her first night. His mother eventually had two more. Both were girls. It had been a long time since he had seen his baby sisters.

Knowing Constance, Sylvie and Elodie as he knew them now, he felt as if he had three little sisters again. Although with those three he felt more like the younger brother at times.

TM

"What could be taking him so long?" Sylvie wondered aloud. She was propped up against a wall cushioned by a couple of blankets. Another blanket lay across her lower half and her baby wrapped in a blanket rested in Sylvie's arms.

"I don't know," Aramis sat leaning against the same wall next to Sylvie. His knees were bent an arms resting on top of them. "I'm sorry you were stuck with me," he offered.

Sylvie smiled up at him. "At least you didn't faint."

His jaw dropped down and he looked very insulted. "Me faint?"

They heard footsteps setting Aramis on alert as his hand automatically moved to his pistol. The sheet that was the door for the room was pushed aside. "Sylvie?"

"Athos," Sylvie breathed a sigh of relief recognizing the voice before she saw him come into the light of the candles. "Come and meet your daughter."

"I shall have Rochelle send Raoul in," Aramis said getting up off the floor.

"Aramis," Sylvie reached out one hand towards him catching his hand.

He leaned down pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You're quite welcome," he whispered.

Aramis turned coming up to Athos who was looking a bit dumbfounded. He smiled at Athos pulling him into a hug. "Take care of them mon ami."

The First Ministered headed out deciding to stop by at the garrison to share the good news before returning to the palace.

Sylvie laughed at the look on Athos' face. "Come sit," she said and handed over the newborn into his arms. She leaned against him resting her head on his shoulder.

"She's beautiful," Athos said.

There was a moment of silence as the parents admired their newly born daughter.

"I ran into the midwife when I arrived," Athos said. "She was rather scandalized that a man that wasn't your husband stayed during the delivery."

Sylvie snorted inelegantly noticing a slight gleam of amusement in Athos' eyes. "Madame Beaumont would be offended if my husband was in the same room as I was giving birth."

"I suppose we should refrain from telling her we're not married," the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "We will marry one day," he said turning serious.

Sylvie smiled up at him. She knew why they couldn't yet be married. She was okay with that.

"Try not to tease Aramis too much; he didn't want to stay for fear of upsetting you," Sylvie said.

"I will do my best," he said. "I am just grateful you were not alone."

The curtain at the door was pushed aside again and Raoul came rushing in ahead of Rochelle - who stayed at the door - as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Athos set the baby back into Sylvie's arms and caught hold of their son before he could get too far.

"Raoul, meet your baby sister," Sylvie said.

The End