(Originally posted on AO3 on September 12th, 2015. Crossposted here due to the latest events at the AO3 board.)
WARNING for period typical attitudes.
Louis looks at the child in his arms and doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to speak, of course – he is alone in the room, safe for the Lady Marguerite, who keeps looking at the ground, and the two guards waiting outside. The palace is as silent as it could be in the middle of the night, and he looks at his child.
His son.
Or the son of another man.
The baby is sleeping, looking content and Louis searches for signs on his face – is it the nose of his father, the great Henri the Fourth, or the nose of a commoner? And those blue eyes, do they belong to the Bourbons, to the Habsburgs, or to a commoner?
Is the child his?
The doubt is eating away at his mind, and no one knows about it but his confessor. Not Anne, of course, but she wouldn't know either. After all, if the letter – the Cardinal's last gift – is true, then she can't know for sure who is the father of her child – if it's a legitimate baby, or if it is a bastard.
Nobody knows.
Only God knows, Louis thinks, and rocks the child slightly when it starts making noises.
His stomachache had been keeping him awake that night, and with the doubt gawking at him, he had finally decided to go check on the baby, bringing only two guards with him – a Musketeer and a Red Guard. All doors had opened before him, but he had been surprised to see only the Lady Marguerite was sleeping in the nursery.
Mistress Bonacieux was nowhere to be seen.
He walks in the room, humming softly to the child, some half-remembered lullaby from his own childhood, and he suddenly misses his own father terribly. Good King Henri had been a wonderful father, always ready to play with his children, no matter their own legitimacy (or lack of, Louis thinks bitterly, but at least he had always been sure he was the father of his bastards) and his death, his assassination, had broken his world. Marie de Medici had always been much colder towards him, even when he was still a boy. Life would have been so different if she had been the one to die instead of his father…
The baby makes a soft noise, once, twice and Louis rocks him. It is a warm, heavy weight in his arms, and he can't know for sure…
He can't be sure and he is the King of France. It is no good.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches the Lady Marguerite lying against the wall, looking livid in the golden light of the candles. He frowns and tries to remember if this is a recent development – and yes, it looks like it is… she looked a lot healthier when she had arrived in Her Majesty's retinue to serve as Governess to the child, but she had been withering away in the last few weeks. Or was it the last few months? With his recent illness, he can't know for sure. He makes an effort to remember and yes, when they had been forced under siege by the false astrologer, she already wasn't looking so good anymore.
Well, he doesn't want a sick woman to be anywhere near his son. The child.
"Porthos" he calls and the musketeer arrives quickly, still looking a bit unsure behind his usual assured façade.
Here is another one who is not as smiling as he once was, Louis ponders. His musketeers have not been very satisfying lately, but at least Porthos is still someone he knows he can count on. Not like some of the others, according to the Cardinal's last letter…
"Get a servant to fetch me a collation and some food for the Lady Marguerite" he orders him and Porthos nods before bowing slightly and facing away to back to the corridor. "And you might as well get something for you and Jacques" he adds before the musketeer disappears.
After all, they will all be there for a long time, and he prefers his guards to be energized when they are protecting him in the middle of the night.
They wait in silence until the food arrives and is set. A few chairs are brought from the nursery for his guards and the governess, but his own has to be brought from his apartments. He doesn't mind the wait; he doesn't have that many occasions to hold the child in his arms…
Even with the light and the shadows of the candles, the nose looks like his own father's nose – the great Bourbon nose.
Only God knows the truth, Louis repeats to himself, trying to sound convinced.
Once his seat is here, however, he has to bring the child back to his cradle and let him sleep in peace. He has to force himself to leave the child's side and go to his chair, looking at the collation dressed in the middle of the nursery.
Chicken broth, of course – the kitchens know his habits when he asks for a collation in the middle of the night now. Fruits, fruit paste, caramel, hydromel… and olives bread. Good.
Lady Marguerite, Porthos the musketeer and Jacques captain of the Red Guards are all facing him, waiting for his authorization before eating their own food. He only has to nod at them before they start helping themselves, the Lady Marguerite more slowly than the two men.
Louis frowns.
There is something wrong with the governess.
Thinking of it, Porthos doesn't look too good either, and neither does Jacques. The court and the servants don't look as lively and they used to, which he had half-expected, after the Cardinal's death, but some dark, leaden weight seems to be hanging over everyone…
Everybody eats in silence.
The weight of the Cardinal's last letter is heavy in his pocket and he still doesn't know what to do with it. He can't be sure whether or not the child is his, and he doesn't want to confront Anne and decides what to do with her, if she really had a dalliance with the musketeer Aramis.
He doesn't want to believe she would betray him; betray France in such a way.
But he can't dismiss the fact that this is a possibility; that the child might not even be his own.
That he might have to send a musketeer to the scaffold, but he doesn't have any sympathy for traitors. Any man fool enough to make advances to the Queen, to convince her to break her marital vows, to betray her duty to France doesn't deserve to live.
Porthos wouldn't do that to him, Louis knows. Porthos has been nothing but loyal to the musketeers' garrison and to the crown since Tréville picked him up from the streets and brought him in training. (Tréville, he knows, did not only act this way by pure kindness or because he saw the raw talent in Porthos; for he has sinned and feels guilt over events that happened years ago. The Cardinal left him with many interesting information.)
But Porthos has only one loyalty, and it is to the Kingdom; and to the musketeers. He would protect the Crown with his own life, has shown it many times since he joined the musketeers. And he does not have the reputation of going from one bed to another. He doesn't spend time around the quarters of the highest-born ladies at court or even of the…
Of the…
Louis looks at Lady Marguerite, who is barely finishing her own broth, and then catches Jacques looking at her, worry clearly visible on his face. Porthos is frowning too, having sensed that there is something heavy in the air.
"Lady Marguerite" Louis says, abruptly decided to go at the bottom of things.
The woman raises her face towards him, something akin to terror in her eyes.
"Your Majesty" she murmurs, meeker than a mouse.
Porthos and Jacques' frown deeper.
"Lady Marguerite, I have had reports that the musketeer Aramis has been spending a lot of time in the nursery since my son is born."
His voice is calm, poised. The child doesn't stir. The lady, on the other hand, whitens even more – Louis hadn't thought it possible.
"Do you know of a reason to his behavior?" he asks her.
She probably doesn't know anything, he barely has the time to think, before watching in surprise as she gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. Jacques rises brutally and Porthos looks at him in alarm before rising too, slowly placing himself between the Red Guard and the governess.
"Lady Marguerite?" Louis prompts her as gently as he can but it doesn't stop her from bursting into tears.
They all look at her, not knowing what to do.
"I am so-sorry Your Majesty" she gasps and Porthos gently pats her on the shoulder, looking at Jacques, completely lost – and he is not the only one. "I did not know what to do and I-I know it wasn't proper for-for-for me to…" and she cries even more violently.
Louis rises hesitantly.
"Do not blame yourself, my dear, and tell me what happened" he tells her in a kind voice.
The child is still sleeping soundly.
Lady Marguerite cries in silence, little gasps only coming now and then. Jacques offers her the napkin as a handkerchief and she takes it, but doesn't stop from crying.
"I did not know what to do" she repeats, in visible pain, and Louis starts to worry.
Has she been threatened? Did someone abuse her? Did someone try – and apparently succeed – to use her and get close to the child? Or the Queen?
"Pray tell me, Lady Marguerite. I promise you you won't be punished for what may have happened."
Porthos's face is full of disbelief from a brief moment, but Louis ignores it. The woman is too close from his wife and child to be threatened with punishment, if she really is innocent in what has happened.
"I am so sorry" she repeats one more time, finally gaining control over her tears. "Your Majesty, I know you expect a better behavior from the Queen's retinue, and I should not have… I should not have…"
"You are not the first of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting to have fallen in bed with the musketeer Aramis, I assure you", Louis tells her, unsure that this is the only problem. "Although I hope it did not happen here…"
At the look on her face, he grimaces.
"Often?"
She nods.
"Very" she murmurs so low that Louis can barely hear her.
He does not like that one bit, but tries to keep his voice gentle.
"What else happened?"
She looks suddenly extremely scared, and both Porthos and Jacques have an angry look on their faces. Louis wonders if the musketeer abused her – given her reaction…
Marguerite hesitates, looks to them, then to the baby, then to the door giving way to the Queen's apartment, and then to the door giving way to the corridor, both closed, and to him again. He doesn't remember having seen someone looking so terrified in the middle of the palace.
She stays silent for a long, visibly gathering her courage, before speaking.
"Your Majesty… Your Majesty, Rochefort has an unhealthy interest in the Queen and he… he threatened me, told me to look for clues about an unregal behavior, or he would have me sent away from the court in disgrace."
Louis frowns.
"Did she? Have an unregal behavior?"
Marguerite hesitates again and absently touches her neck.
"Not that I could see, Your Majesty, but Aramis was often here to see the Dauphin or even the Queen" she finally murmurs, extremely low.
Porthos and Jacques both gasp – one looking horrified and the other very angry.
Louis is extremely unhappy.
The Cardinal was right – of course he was.
"She always behaved very regally towards him, Your Majesty, and I do not leave the nursery" Marguerite assures him.
He nods shortly and goes back to his chair before falling down on it. Marguerite imitates him shortly after, all forces leaving her body, and she whimpers a little "God forgives me" before starting to cry again.
Jacques is the one patting her shoulder this time.
Louis' eyes wander in the room until they catch the huge crucifix standing over the Dauphin's cradle. He is disappointed, extremely disappointed that Rochefort revealed himself to be a traitor interested only in the Queen's body, and that the Cardinal was right. And Anne betrayed him. Of course, there is still a chance that the child might be his, if God wills it so… and only God knows the truth.
But Anne betrayed him.
Nevertheless, measures have to be taken.
His stomach hurts him, suddenly, and he has a horrifying thought, wondering if Rochefort would have gone as far as trying to poison him, to get closer to Anne…
The Cardinal would have never let things go that far.
"God helps us" he murmurs, getting Porthos' and Jacques' full attention, "for we have been harboring traitors close to us, in our own court."
The words hang like a sword in the air.
Louis rises slowly and walks over the Dauphin's cradle, pondering over his next course of action.
"Jacques, make sure the Lady Marguerite finishes her dinner and then takes some rest" he finally orders. "Porthos."
The musketeer moves swiftly, bowing his head in arriving next him. He is looking at the child too, looking somber.
He hasn't looked very happy in the past few months, Louis suddenly realizes. His musketeers have not been as merry a band as they used to.
Louis softly strokes the cheek of the Dauphin, thinking over what he will have to do. Rochefort has to be dealt with, and he is better off dead than alive – less dangerous for the Kingdom this way. As for the musketeer Aramis… Louis can't decently send him to the scaffold without a good reason, and the Queen's honor must not be tarnished, no matter the price; not until he is sure he has a son of his own.
He will have to be kept away from the court as long as needed, Louis decides.
"My son is growing strong" he finally murmurs, careful to keep his voice low enough that neither Jacques nor the Lady Marguerite will hear him – even though they are concentrated on each other, as far as he can tell.
Porthos nods next to him.
"He has Your Majesty's nose" he offers after a moment.
"The Bourbon's nose" Louis nods in agreement, his voice full of satisfaction. "My father would have loved to see that…"
His voice trails off and he looks sideways at the musketeer, who is unmoved.
Did Tréville finally owe up to the truth?
The child is sleeping peacefully, indifferent to the drama happening around him.
"He is still a bit too young, but in two or three years, I want you to tell him about your adventures in the marine, Porthos. You have quite the stories about your time on our ships, or with the Dutch's navy…."
"If it pleases Your Majesty" Porthos answers swiftly, and Louis smiles.
"It pleases us greatly. You shall tell us again about your time with the Dutch's navy as soon as this displeasing matter is dealt with."
"Of course, Your Majesty" Porthos murmurs with a little smile.
It has become some kind of ritual between the two of them, since Porthos joined the musketeers: two or three times a year, Louis will call upon him to be told of his adventures on the navy, and Porthos will comply. He knows the stories rather well by now, but they still have this soothing power…
Louis hesitates slightly before going over to his next question.
"I need to know if I have your complete loyalty, Porthos" he murmurs, eyes fixed on the Dauphin.
He feels more than he sees the frown.
"Your Majesty may be assured of my loyalty" Porthos finally answers after a beat. "However…" and he pauses for a moment "if Your Majesty asks me to arrest Aramis to throw him to the Bastille, then I won't do it."
Louis nods; he didn't expect anything else.
"Good thing this is not what I plan to do" he declares. "However, he has to be removed from my court: I do not the slightest hint of anything that should tarnish the Queen's honor. Do you understand?"
"Clearly, Your Majesty. And if I may ask… what do you plan to do?"
Louis hesitates slightly before answering.
"He shall be sent to the Jesuits, see if they can free him from the sin of lust. He has seduced enough of the ladies of the court, and considering the consequences of his relationship with the Lady Marguerite… it is better he is removed from court."
"I understand, Your Majesty" Porthos murmurs and Louis looks at him, surprised.
The man looks somber, but sincerity is clearly visible on his face. Tensions must have been brewing between the inseparables, then.
"Bon sang ne saurait mentir. Even years of adventures can't hide your true nature, Porthos. You are a gentilhomme, after all."
He doesn't bother waiting for an answer: his musketeer deserves to know the truth, at least.
"Rochefort will have to be dealt with, too. And I expect the most utter secrecy on that matter" Louis announces a bit louder, getting both Jacques' and Marguerite's attention. "I want you two to lead a group of both musketeers and red guards, and to go arrest him, to throw him into a dungeon at the Bastille. If he resists or try to escape, well… he shall meet His maker. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Your Majesty" the soldiers answer before bowing.
It is all set and done, then. Louis doesn't wait much longer before going back to his apartments, making sure the Lady Marguerite is ready for sleep before kissing his son goodnight. The walk to his rooms is silent, all three men deep in their thoughts.
"You may retire" Louis finally tells them once they are in front of their bedroom. "Get some rest; I want everything to be taken care of by tomorrow evening."
They nod their approval before bowing once again. Hopefully Rochefort will try to escape and then… Louis knows his thoughts aren't charitable, but the man has been reaching for his wife; for the Queen of France. Pity; mercy; would be a stupid reaction. And as far as Aramis, he should not try to stay around if he wants to stay free; or with a head on his shoulders. After all, he only owes his survival to the fact that the Dauphin might indeed be of Bourbon's blood…
ooOoo
Nobody at court expected Rochefort to be arrested for treason, to try to escape and to be killed in action. It's not even a musketeer who is responsible for the death shot, something Louis is strangely grateful for. Aramis, for his part, is sent away in a rather discreet way – which means nobody witnesses the event but everybody knows what happened. Well, what is said anyway; that he has seduced too many of the ladies at court, has been disgracing the Queen's retinue one too many time. Being stripped off his musketeer paldron might be a harsh punishment, but it's deserved for having sullied the Queen's honor; even though no one is aware of that.
And the Lady Marguerite looks relieved at being left alone now, with Jacques checking upon her, and Porthos smiling at her from afar.
Another problem solved then. He does not want his son to be raised by a sad woman.
"Your Majesty has been very inspired in discovering Rochefort's plot" Anne tells him once they have finished eating dinner, the courtiers retreating at the other side of the room.
They are both side by side in front of the windows, looking at the sunset coloring the gardens.
"It was God's will that I shall discover it" Louis answers with a brief smile. "And the Lady Marguerite did not look very happy either, despite being in your retinue…"
Anne winces slightly, but Louis still catches her discomfort from the corner of his eyes.
"It is no good for the ladies of the court to fall prey to a seasoned seducer anyway" he continues, curious to see how she will react; if she will react.
"Was it not too harsh to send him to the Jesuits?" she asks sweetly and Louis turns slightly to look at her. "Surely he could have learned his lesson another way…"
"I know what happened at Bourbon-les-Eaux, my dear" he murmurs and she gasps, fighting to stay in control of her features.
She looks afraid and Louis considers toying with her before explaining his meaning.
"Despite his brutal illness, the Cardinal had the time to write me several reports and a very informative letter, towards his end. The Mother Superior of the convent had information to share with him, and he shared it with me when he died."
He has prepared his speech for the best part of the day (for many months, since he read the letter for the first time and learned the truth) and it is difficult to fight the resentment and the anger he is feeling. His pain, however, is easy to show.
"Everybody agrees that the Dauphin has the Bourbon's nose, and it is as well. However, I do not want to see the musketeer at court again. Did you know he seduced the poor Lady Marguerite to get closer to my son? If she hadn't told me the truth about their relationship and how Rochefort had been threatening her to get close to you, dear, I fear what the consequences could have been."
"Louis…"
She goes to put her hand on his arm and he lets her. He forgave her, somehow, even though he did take a lover too. Milady didn't really help him feel any better. The Cardinal would have been of better advice, but alas…
"Our son shall be the finest prince France ever had and the musketeer will stay with the Jesuits. This is what I have decided."
Anne stays silent for a long moment, before timidly his arm. He finally looks at her, noticing how pale she is, despite two bright red spots on her cheeks and the tears in her eyes.
"You are very kind, Your Majesty" she whispers and Louis finally takes pity on her, and squeezes her hand back, smiling a little, as gently as he can.
"I like to think so, my dear. Now, shall we go visit our son?"
"It would be my pleasure" Anne answers with a little smile of her own, and they walk together towards the nursery, side by side, as a regal couple ought to.
Perhaps it is time for the Dauphin to have a little brother, Louis muses. He will have to wait a little before Anne is comfortable sharing her bed with him again, probably a matter of days, but it should be done anyway. For France, and for the House of Bourbon.