This story is entirely the fault of my wonderful beta, Sharlot. She put this little plot bunny in my head and I must give her the credit. She doesn't normally ship anyone, but Anne and Aramis have caught her heart, so this is for her. That said, it isn't quite the Annamis story she wanted, since I decided I just had to have a bit of Aramis whump to accompany her beloved ship. Write what you love, right? This is set sometime after S2e4, "Emilie".

The Past is Present

Chapter 1

Aramis winced as d'Artagnan forcefully hit the ground once again. He bit into his apple, smiling as he chewed, folding his arms across his chest, his dark eyes dancing with mirth. D'Artagnan groaned, flat on his back, as his opponent stalked over and reached out a hand toward him.

"You'll never beat him like that," Aramis called from his position of safety under the balcony. He leaned a shoulder against the wooden post to his left. "You have to put your back into it."

The younger man spit out some dirt from his mouth and glared at the marksman. "My back has been put out enough, thank you."

Porthos reached down and grabbed the Gascon by his shirt, yanking him upright in a smooth, impressive show of strength.

"Don't listen to 'im, lad. You just need to keep your center of gravity lower. Don't give me a chance to get you off balance."

"Off balance?" d'Artagnan squeaked. "I wasn't off balance. You just picked me up and tossed me like I was a sack of potatoes!"

"Careful, d'Artagnan," Aramis called. "You start speaking of food and you'll just make him hungry. You know how Porthos gets when he's hungry."

D'Artagnan held up his hands, surrendering. "I concede." He bowed. "I appreciate the lesson."

Porthos puffed out his chest. "Anytime, whelp." He looked across the courtyard to his friend who was still smirking as he devoured the fruit. "What about you, 'Mis? You feel like havin' a go?"

Aramis returned his grin. "Only if you will accept a challenge of pistols at twenty paces in advance."

Porthos grin dimmed. "You'd shoot me?"

Aramis pushed off the post and closed the distance between them, slinging the hand not occupied with fruit around the taller man's shoulders. "I wouldn't aim to kill, my dear Porthos. I would simply wound you enough to even the odds."

Porthos thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Fair enough. How 'bout we just call it a draw and get something to eat?"

Aramis laughed, a deep, infectious sound, and pulled another apple from inside his shirt, tossing it to his friend. "If knowing yourself is true wisdom, my friend, you are the wisest man I know."

Porthos stared at him for a moment, obviously trying to wrap his head around Aramis' poetic words. Finally he grinned and shook his head fondly. "I have no idea what that means, but I'm just going to assume it was a compliment and let it go."

Aramis slapped him on the back, smiling wide. "The most sincerest of compliments, I assure you."

D'Artagnan approached, brushing himself off, looking at the fruit his two friends were munching on with envy.

Aramis grinned apologetically, nodding his head toward the apple Porthos was happily consuming. "Apologies, d'Artagnan. My charm was only able to procure two of these delectable treats. If you hurry, I'm sure Serge could be coerced into parting with one more of these precious gems."

The younger man didn't need more encouragement and darted off to the kitchen just as Athos stepped out of the office at the top of the stairs. He made his way down to the courtyard, a folded piece of parchment in his hand. Both Porthos and Aramis recognized the seal as that of the King.

"We've been summoned to the palace," Athos stated without preamble.

"We in trouble again?"

Aramis grinned at Porthos' question. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if they were. Lately, Louis had been placing the blame for everything that went wrong on the Musketeers. Captain Treville had been relieved of his command – much to the dismay of the men who loyally served under him – and they'd been forced to stand back and watch the King's new Captain of the Red Guard, the Comte de Rochefort, bask in the light of the King's favor.

It was sickening to say the least. Aramis had disliked the man the moment they had come upon him and saved him from being lynched by an angry band of villagers. The smug little man had shown his disdain for the Musketeers from the start, and the feeling had been mutual. Knowing Rochefort had been one of Cardinal Richelieu's agents had immediately placed him on their list of enemies, and he had done little to give them any reason to trust him since.

"We've done nothing to draw the King's ire as far as I know," Athos responded. "But these days something as simple as a rain shower could earn us Louis' wrath."

Aramis looked up into the cloudless sky, squinting into the bright sunshine. "I'd say we're safe for the moment. Any idea why we're being summoned?"

"A mission. We are instructed to pack extra provisions for at least a week." Athos folded the letter and tucked it into his belt. "That is all I know. I suggest we prepare and present ourselves to the King if we want more information." He looked around the courtyard, frowning. "Where is d'Artagnan? I thought he was sparring with you?"

Porthos nodded his head toward the kitchen as he took a large bit of his apple. "He went to try and talk Serge out of one of these." They glanced toward the kitchen just in time to see d'Artagnan step out of the building, a pleased look on his face, rubbing a bright red apple on his shirt front, heading for their usual table to relax and enjoy his treat. "Looks like he was successful."

"Well, tell him to eat fast. We leave in an hour."

Aramis and Porthos nodded, accepting the order and moved to intercept their young friend before he could get too comfortable.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm

The four Musketeers entered the court and bowed to the King, who remained seated on his throne, Rochefort by his side. The blonde Comte looked down his nose at the soldiers, his contempt obvious, snorting at the looks of mild impudence he received in return.

"Ah, I'm glad you have finally arrived," Louis welcomed them with a cautious smile. "I have a mission of the utmost importance." He stood and stepped off the dais, lowering his voice as he came to a halt before Athos. "I know you are privy to the secret my dear sister, the Duchess of Savoy, holds concerning her position within this court."

Athos nodded, frowning, already concerned about the missive they were about to embark upon. It was not only the thought of Savoy that had his defenses up, the thought of the Duke himself sent a shiver of contempt down his spine. If his immediate reaction was so derisive, he could only imagine what Aramis felt at the mention of the place that still haunted his nightmares.

Louis didn't wait for an answer, continuing as if the response of the soldiers did not matter. Athos had to admit, it did not.

"I've received a letter from the Duchess stating she has urgent news that is vital to France. The problem is she is quite far along in her second pregnancy and has been forbidden by her physicians to travel."

"You would like us to retrieve this information?" Athos assumed.

Louis sighed. "If only it were so simple." He turned and motioned for Rochefort to continue.

"The Duchess will only turn this information over to the King."

"It would be… unwise for His Majesty to travel to Savoy given the Duke's disposition toward the Crown," d'Artagnan offered. The Duke's disdain for the King had not been a secret, the man showing his disparagement at every opportunity. "We would need half the regiment to assure your safety, Sire." He looked to Athos who merely nodded in return.

"That is why I have no intention of traveling to that godforsaken place." Louis didn't bother to hide his loathing of the Duke.

"Then what is the solution?" Aramis asked.

"I am."

The Musketeers looked up as Queen Anne, dressed in a soft, simple dress entered the court. She wore her hair down, golden curls falling against the coarse blue cloak clasped around her shoulders. Athos heard Aramis sigh beside him as she approached, and had to admit she did look lovely. Without all the trappings and grandiose of her royal attire, the Queen was still a breathtakingly beautiful woman.

The four men bowed as Anne strode across the marble floor, stopping next to them, a welcoming smile on her face. She glanced at each of them in turn, her eyes lingering on Aramis a moment longer. Athos didn't have to turn to know the answering glint in his friend's dark eyes. While they'd been able to contain the secret of Aramis' and the Queen's liaison at the convent from everyone, he had no doubt Porthos and perhaps even d'Artagnan had noticed the covert glances between the two, even though neither had expressed their suspicions aloud. Athos had been thankful for their reticence, affording him the opportunity to remain loyal to one friend while not having to prevaricate to the others.

"Your Majesty," Aramis stepped forward, his confusion written on his face. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"My wife has volunteered to travel to Savoy under the auspices of being with the Duchess upon the birth of her child." Louis answered for her. "Though I am not completely comfortable with the arrangement, my Queen has swayed me to her belief that she will be perfectly safe with the four of you by her side."

Athos swallowed, knowing the idea was dangerous, but he forced his face to remain passive. "Would it not be better for a larger contingency to safeguard the Queen and her attendants?"

"No attendants," Anne informed him. "I will be your only charge."

The four Musketeers exchanged looks of surprise.

"I must protest once again, your Majesty." Rochefort stepped from the dais and approached the Queen, standing between her and the soldiers. "I would feel much more secure if you would allow me and my Red Guard to accompany you on this journey."

Anne smiled, conciliatory. "I have no fear the Musketeers will be fully capable of assuring my safety."

"Then it is settled." Louis took the Queen's hands in his and leaned close, kissing her on the cheek. "Be safe, my dear. I will await your return."

Anne bowed her head, smiling as the King turned to leave, Rochefort reluctantly trailing behind. When they were well beyond range, Anne turned to the musketeers.

"I understand the apprehension you must be feeling, but whatever information The Duchess has for the King, I fear is vital to France's security. My visit would not be construed as anything but sisterly concern, thus not causing rise to undo suspicion."

Aramis stepped forward and took her hand, kissing it reverently. "We are only concerned for your welfare, Your Majesty. I would not forgive myself if you came to harm."

Anne smiled demurely, dropping her eyes. "I appreciate that, Aramis. But as I said, I have no fear whilst within your protection." She looked at at them all, her confidence in their abilities obvious. "I know you will keep me safe."

Athos sighed, knowing any attempt to talk sense into her was futile. He looked to Aramis, knowing the mission would effect the marksman most of all. Returning to Savoy would be difficult enough, the worry over the Queen's safety an added weight to that already heavy burden. If Aramis resisted, Athos would find a way to make the Queen realize the enormity of what she asked. There was no way he would force his friend to relive that nightmare, and he knew Porthos and d'Artagnan felt the same. It would not look favorably on them to refuse a royal edict, but he would never forgive himself if he didn't at least try to keep his friend from such emotional turmoil.

But surprisingly, Aramis nodded his acquiescence immediately and Athos felt a surge of pride for the man's resilience. It was the true mark of courage to face your fears, and it seemed Aramis was determined to meet his darkest demons straight on. Of course, the beautiful smile Anne had shined upon him could have had a bit to do with the Spaniard's easy compliance.

"All right," Athos agreed coolly. "But I must insist you follow our directives in all manners, Your Majesty."

"Of course," Anne agreed graciously. "My life is in your hands."

Athos turned to the other two who had hung back throughout the exchange. "d'Artagnan, see to a carriage for the Queen. Porthos, make sure we have supplies enough."

"The palace stores are at your disposal," Anne offered. "But I would prefer to ride rather than be stuck inside a carriage if it's no bother."

Athos paused, surprised. Though he knew the Queen was an excellent horsewoman, he wasn't sure she would be up to the rigor of such a trip on horseback.

"I believe Your Majesty would be much more comfortable in a coach," he protested. Not only would she be easier to protect ensconced inside a carriage, there would be less chance of anyone recognizing her if she wasn't out in plain sight.

"I understand," Anne said pleasantly. "But I have had such little opportunity to ride since I came to France. It is something I love and would appreciate a chance to do if at all possible."

Again Athos deferred to Aramis, who shrugged. Resigned, Athos nodded to d'Artagnan and the two Musketeers bowed and hurried out to fulfill their duties, leaving Aramis, Anne and Athos alone.

"With all due respect," Athos began. "I believe this is a bad idea."

"I understand your concern, Athos, but it is the only solution I could see having a chance of success. If the information the King's sister is holding is even half as pertinent as we fear, we cannot delay in its retrieval. I'm afraid there is no other way."

"But alone?" Aramis still held her hand in his. The fact the Queen had not made an attempt to move away was not lost on the older man. "Would it not be better to travel in caravan? If you don't want to raise suspicion, traveling as the Queen would be more convincing than riding in secret."

"The King feared retribution," Anne shrugged. "With all the malcontents we have seen as of late, he felt it better not to draw too much attention to my journey."

Athos nodded, agreeing with the strategy. "It would be easier to travel without such a large assemblage. But there is still the matter of your comfort."

Anne laughed. "While I appreciate your concern, Monsieur, I assure you I am quite capable of surviving without the trappings of the court."

Aramis grinned as Athos bowed, chagrined. "Of course," he capitulated. "I know well of Your Majesty's ability to… adapt to the situation."

Anne had the grace to blush, but the smile she gave Aramis showed no trace of remorse.

"So," the marksman said, taking it upon himself to ease the tension their collective memories brought to light. "If we're all agreed, I would suggest we begin our journey."

As the Queen preceded them from the court, Athos sighed and rolled his eyes, garnering a grin and a shrug from his comrade. Shaking his head, he followed Aramis out the door, mumbling under his breath, "This should be fun."

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

The journey was a pleasant one, the Musketeers slowly becoming more comfortable in Anne's presence as they day wore on. The countryside was beautiful, though, as Athos had warned, the hours in the saddle wore on her, unused to the rigors of riding for so long. The Musketeers stopped every few hours, using various excuses such as resting the horses, confirming their direction, or the need for sustenance, though Anne knew they were stopping to give her rest. Despite the arduous journey, she found herself enjoying the company of the four men and was glad for the opportunity to know them better.

The first day had gone by quickly, laughter at the banter and antics of the four friends keeping her entertained and in good spirits. They'd stopped at an Inn for the evening – at Athos' insistence – booking two rooms; one for her and one for the Musketeers to share. Despite the anonymity of her dress, Athos insisted one of the men stand guard by her door. Arguing that a guard would draw attention, Aramis had insisted he be tasked with her safety by sleeping in a chair just inside her room. Unable to deny the logic of the argument, Athos had reluctantly agreed, but not before throwing a meaningful glare at his friend who smiled innocently in return.

Anne was glad the older Musketeer hadn't seen fit to argue the point. She knew it was dangerous for her and Aramis to be together, but throughout the debate and planning for this trip, it was the one thing that had made it worthwhile in her mind. The kiss they'd shared in Emilie of Duras' camp had shown her the passion they tried to deny was still very much alive between them. Being near each other was risky – their union tantamount to treason, threatening their lives and the life of their son – so they had agreed to keep their distance, their night of passion remaining a beautiful memory. Anne had feared the desire would fade, that her feelings for the handsome Musketeer would wane until all that remained was a deep fondness for what they'd once shared. But that one kiss had dispelled the notion. Her heart had beat wildly in her chest and her breath had caught in her throat as his lips descended on hers. The spark of passion she'd felt all those months ago in the convent had come back full force, and, if it had been possible, she would have offered herself to him again right there and then.

Constance's interruption had been a curse and a blessing. It had stopped them from getting lost in themselves, saving them from the threat of detection by someone who would not understand. It also gave Anne a confidant who more than recognized the need to find joy when the moment presented itself. Anne was fully aware of her friend's own clandestine love for another of the King's Musketeers, and the two women had talked long through the night on many occasions since, commiserating and supporting each other in the knowledge that they were no longer alone in their melancholy.

The evening at the Inn had been magical. Aramis was a considerate and passionate lover; one of which she had no compare. Her nights with Louis were stale and often awkward and painful, but with Aramis, she was swept away in a warm cloud of devotion, his hands soft and caressing, his teasing lips firm and demanding. She had never in her life felt so loved and fulfilled. She felt as if the rest of the world simply faded away and all that was left was right there in that room. It was a love she never dreamt she would feel, her heart full and her mind empty save for the need to feel him close to her. She knew it was a sin, she knew it was wrong, but she had never experienced something so right; so… complete. It didn't matter in those moments whether the rest of the world knew of their liaison or not, the sheer bliss chased the fear of discovery away, leaving her replete in her happiness.

Morning had come much too quickly and she had dressed, meeting her escorts downstairs in the Inn's main room for breakfast. Porthos and d'Artagnan threw sideways glances her way, frowning at their friend who deftly deflected their silent questions with cheerful assurances. Athos didn't look at her at all, simply avoiding what he knew he could not change. When finally they returned to the road, whatever the others suspected was stowed, and they fell easily into the friendly banter and camaraderie they had shown the previous day.

It was early evening when they came upon a wooded area just near the border of Savoy. Aramis had become quiet, his normal garrulous voice growing still as the trees became more numerous. She noticed the other three taking quick, furtive glances at their friend. The faces wore expressions of concern, which made her tense, but they were obviously directed toward Aramis, not their surroundings.

"Are you all right?"

She was riding behind Porthos and Aramis, alongside d'Artagnan, Athos bringing up the rear of the procession. Porthos' soft voice carried on the slight breeze, and she detected the note of real worry in his low rumble. Aramis took a deep breath and nodded, his face hidden beneath the lowered brim of his hat. She did not understand their unease, especially since it seemed it was solely focused on Aramis. She made a note to ask him about it, his unusual disquiet beginning to unsettle her. She had seen his heroics first hand and could not understand what could cause such trepidation in a man so courageous.

Peeling off, Porthos nodded to her as he passed, pulling his horse into line with Athos' behind them. Her eyes stayed on Aramis, studying him as they rode in silence. His normally graceful stance was stiff and rigid in the saddle, a sure sign he was not comfortable and she tensed at the thought. Her own safety momentarily concerned her, but she dismissed the notion, knowing this was something more personal than a soldier's attention to duty. He seemed scared – unnerved – and she felt a strong pulse of sympathy for his anxiety. It was for her he had agreed to this mission, so she felt responsible for the tension he was displaying now.

She'd noticed Athos' reaction at the first mention of Savoy, and she had assumed it was because of the deaths of the Musketeers many years ago. Of course they would all feel the loss, even so many years later. Was it twenty men who were killed then? She couldn't remember the exact number, as she had been merely a child upon her arrival in Paris and new to the language and customs. She had been aware of the loss of soldiers, Louis having ranted about the inconvenience of replacing so many men at once. At the time she had considered his displeasure crude, wondering of the many men who had lost their lives that tragic day. But it had been quickly dismissed, the Musketeers buried and forgotten. She had little to do with the business of the Court back then and had only understood that Cardinal Richelieu had taken care of the matter to the King's satisfaction.

Could Aramis have been close to someone who had perished here? She shuddered at the thought of losing someone so senselessly. She had overheard the Cardinal inform the King that there had been no survivors, so she did not understand how it could affect Aramis any more than the others.

Before she could contemplate further, a shot rang out in the silence and Aramis grunted in pain, twisting on his horse as the animal reared in reaction. Someone yelled to move to the trees and she felt her reigns pulled from her hands as d'Artagnan turned his horse, pulling hers along behind to the cover of the forest. She heard someone – Porthos – call out Aramis' name, her heart stopping in her chest until she heard the familiar voice call back.

Her mind was whirling as she held on to the pommel of her saddle, the horse came to an abrupt halt near the forest edge and she gasped, her breath ragged as her body shook with fear. She could hear the sounds of swords clanging against each other and knew the Musketeers were battling to keep her safe. She blinked, her eyes suddenly filled with tears, looking around as d'Artagnan leaped from his horse, drawing his pistol from his belt, aiming and firing at an attacker in one fluid movement. She looked around frantically, her eyes searching for…

Aramis! He was still on his horse, his pistol out, aimed at another man rushing toward the edge of the trees where she and d'Artagnan had taken cover. She jumped at the loud blast of the weapon, shuddering as the man screamed and fell, the ball piercing through his torso in an ugly spray of blood. She cringed, quickly turning to Aramis who was reigning his horse close to hers.

There was a dark stain on his right leg, and as he drew near, she could see his face was pale, his eyes pinched in pain.

"Are you unharmed?" he called, frantic.

She nodded, swallowing her fear, knowing she needed to keep her wits about her if she was to be anything but a hindrance. Aramis smiled at her and she felt herself calm. She trusted him with her life. She knew he would not let her down.

TBC