To Sin and Suffer
"What is our mission, Aramis?"
"To protect the Queen," Aramis said.
"Aye, to protect the Queen," Athos nodded. "If you gamble with your own life, that's one thing, but do not think for one moment you can gamble with hers."
Aramis/Anne relationship; Aramis/Athos friendship.
Author's Note: The Musketeers is a great show, and I can't believe I even doubted if it's worth watching. But some things struck me as odd. Everyone seems to be quite flippant about extra marital affairs, although you can say this is France and people are sold into marriage for purely political reasons. However it was strange that the Musketeers seem to not realise that they could be risking the life of the woman they love or risking her to vicious gossip, and not even giving that a thought.
Episode 9 of Season 1- Knight Takes Queen was brilliant, but the Aramis and Anne arc was poorly executed, when before their ship has been done quite well. So here's my version of the Aramis and Anne arc. Let me know what you think. ;)
Please read and review.
Contains references to violence and adult themes, and angst.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Musketeers, who obviously belong to Alexander Dumas.
Aramis stared down into freezing depths of the Seine, as the night sky reflected its darkness from the rippling waves. He felt his breath heavy with condensation as he thought of how cold the river would be. Could he survive it? Would it kill him? Would he live but have all his strength frozen to numbness? He shuddered.
His body had numerous scars- some from foes in battle, from friends in training and some from women in bed (and sometimes in the streets as punishment). But there were also scars on his heart and soul, they hurt the most, cut the deepest and when brooded on- bled the most severe. Lately, he had gained a new scar, awakening others as well, and he knew there would be more to come.
Three months ago
"Aramis?" Anne called from her chamber.
He looked up from sharpening his dagger on the flint. Gallagher's men thumped and hammered outside of the walls of Plantagenet Abbey. He had been so annoyed that he almost wanted to drown those sounds with an equally annoying scraping sound.
"Forgive me, your Majesty," Aramis rose from his seat. "I wasn't thinking of how much noise I was causing."
Anne gave him a gentle smile, that lightened his tension. "It's all right. Do you know what they're doing?"
Aramis shook his head. "I could go out and find out for you? Although, your Majesty will have to pray very very hard that I live to tell you the answer."
Anne chuckled. "Careful, I could fail to see the jest and order you to go."
"Then who else will make you smile and laugh? Athos?" Aramis said cheekily.
Anne laughed and blushed, looking down. Her beautiful brown hair cascaded down her upper arms in smooth waves, her kirtle was loose and sleeveless which made her seem so sweet, innocent and beautiful, not like the regal Queen that one admires from afar but like a flesh and blood woman. He had to remind himself that she was his Queen, and he would have crossed himself if had she not been looking at him.
"Can I do anything for you, your Majesty?"
"Will you keep me company?" Anne requested, almost uncertainly. "I feel uneasy on my own with the hammering outside. Shall I pour you a drink?"
Aramis nodded, ignoring his better judgement. If Gallagher's men started to storm the abbey again, they'd realise soon enough.
The Queen sat on the bed, while Aramis took a seat at the foot of the bed. She was slouching, in actual fact, but not even that detracted from her grace.
"So, who was she?" Anne asked.
Aramis took a sigh. He told her about Isabelle and how when he was young and foolish, and had little regard for the consequences of his actions. It was fun and games back then, but also sincerity when he had found out that Isabelle was with child. Aramis had woken up, donned his best clothes and sought out her father to ask for her hand- because it was the right thing to do. He could live with settling down and being grounded for the sake of his family. But turned out that Isabelle wouldn't have that. As soon as she miscarried, she refused to even let Aramis near her to comfort her, she made the decision for him that he wouldn't like a married life. He was quietly angry at her, but when she lay dying today because of the assassin that burrowed into the cellar, that anger turned to grief and regret.
"I am sorry," Anne whispered.
"I know I have this reputation of being a womaniser," Aramis said, drinking from his cup. "But I don't want to be! I don't liaise with a woman, intending to discard her, I want it to last, but things always... happen.
"Maybe Isabelle is right, maybe I'm trying too hard to be someone I'm not and this is a Divine Message telling me I should forget that part of me, that I should switch it off."
"No," Anne said incredulously, touching his cheek. "You are brave, and kind and honourable. Any woman would be fortunate to be loved by you, Aramis." He almost heard her voice breaking. He reached up to hold her delicate hand and could not pull or push it off- the softness was like a warm bed on a winter's day.
"And any man would be lucky to be loved by you, Anne," the musketeer replied tenderly.
"Do you mock me, Aramis?" Anne croaked, blinking back tears. "Is this what you always say?"
Aramis recoiled. "No! I swear!"
Anne shook her head. "Forgive me, Aramis, I didn't mean that." She wiped her tears and forced a smile.
"Are you all right?"
"I am a barren queen, unable to give Louis sons. I'm not stupid; I've heard the gossip and the drunk whispering that I am a failure as a queen. He tells me I talk too much, that I show him up in front of others. He accuses me of disappointing him as a wife, that I give him no pleasure, but how can I when I can smell another woman or man on him, or when he insists on taking me so roughly that it hurts? Am I selfish or sinful for wanting to be treated gently? To feel loved, to be the only one my husband desires?"
"No!" Aramis said, holding her cheeks in both of his hands. Her blue eyes beseeched his, melting his heart and compelling him to want to protect and look after this woman.
"You are beautiful, truly beautiful, do you hear me? You are compassionate, dignified and intelligent. You are everything a good woman should be."
He realised that Anne was touching his chest now, his heart was beating rapidly, as his breathing quickened. Aramis swallowed, and found some unexpected passion within him, though it would terrify him when he sobered up and wondered where the next words actually came from.
"If I were your husband, I would make you feel loved and appreciated like a queen, in everything I do. I would never make you feel inadequate. You would be the only woman I lay with, and I would be happy to keep that promise."
Anne reached to kiss his lips and, after recovering from his shock, he found himself kissing this woman back. He moaned, embracing her and stroking her hair behind those ears.
Suddenly, she was no longer the Queen of France, but Ana Maria- the Spanish Infanta, the foreign beauty that had come to France all those years ago. But she was never foreign to Aramis, whose father was originally from Tarragona and his mother from Marseilles. She was part of his own heritage, a key to his home.
Aramis nibbled on her ears and neck, eliciting a soft giggle from Anne, a melody for his heart, before submerging himself deep under the waves of her brown hair.
After they were done, he sighed with ease, beaming in the dark and feeling her warm body on his. They lay naked holding hands, their fingers fitted perfectly and comfortably together. The beating of Aramis' heart was a steady but resounding song that played smoothly as Anne, or Ana Maria, lay serenly on his chest, her soft snoring were the chords. Dawn crept in through the stain glass windows and the hammering of Gallagher's men continued like a dull thud of pain. That pain slapped Aramis on his temple but began to fade a while later. Surely he had only drunk three cups?
Aramis smiled and ran his hands through Anne's hair. You're a very sound sleeper, aren't you, Ana? If you could sleep through this siege you would, wouldn't you? Aramis sighed, wondering how Louis could ever take this amazing lady for granted, before the realisation hit him that she was not his wife.
He wondered if Louis would hang or shoot him if he found out. At first it was casual, as if wondering about what to eat, but then he saw Athos' shocked face peering through the ajar door and his heart began racing like crazy.
Suddenly, Athos was gone and Aramis found himself shifting the Queen aside and bolting to his feet, rushing to don his breeches, belt, shirt and weapons. He stumbled out, before closing the door so as to not disturb Anne. He made his way through a room full of nuns, took a bite from the apple that Mother Superior offered before charging into the room where Athos stood guard.
"I still can't see what they're building," Athos informed, without making eye contact.
"Athos... listen..." Aramis began. What was he supposed to say? That he was sorry for sleeping with the Queen? That he was sorry to be caught? "About what you saw back there..." He could feel his throat run dry and his skin burn.
"I didn't see anything back there because I was here all morning," Athos said shortly. He strode over to the door to the room and made sure that no one was listening from the other side, before closing it again.
"Do you realise that you made the Queen into your whore?" Athos growled, his voice was low and deadly.
"No, it wasn't like that Athos!" Aramis replied. "I swear!"
"No?"
"She means a lot to me, I didn't intend for it go this far, but we had both drunk a bit... She is a strong, sweet and wise woman, she really needed..."
"What Aramis? Loving? Tenderness?" Athos demanded.
"Appreciation," Aramis said weakly. "When she told me how Louis emotionally hurts her and treats her like a burden... I just wanted to comfort her..."
"You thought you could be the ideal man for her?"
Yes, I imagined that I was this woman's husband! "I..."
"If Louis finds out, you will hang for this!" Athos said.
"Well at this rate, I'm more likely to die here if the regiment doesn't come," Aramis joked nervously. Surely Athos wouldn't seriously go and tell?
"Do you think this is funny, Sergeant?" Athos said grimly. "Do you realise that you have put the Queen at risk of being hanged?" Athos the friend had vanished, before him stood Athos the lieutenant, his voice was cold and stern. Without even raising his voice, he had struck Aramis with the full potential consequences of his actions. Suddenly, Aramis felt the need to sit down or lean against the wall. But the look that Lieutenant Athos gave him forced him to stand straight to attention.
"What is our mission, Aramis?"
"To protect the Queen," Aramis said.
"Aye, to protect the Queen," Athos nodded. "If you gamble with your own life, that's one thing, but do not think for one moment you can gamble with hers. Do I make myself clear, Sergeant?"
"Yes, sir," Aramis croaked. "Are you going to tell?"
Athos gave him an insulted look. "Have you just met me?" To Aramis' relief, he cracked an encouraging smile.
Aramis breathed out and thanked God above. "Thank you," he whispered to Athos, before visibly relaxing and leaning back against the wall.
"Rene, I mean it, forget it ever happened, for both your sakes," Athos counseled, using Aramis' first name. His voice had turned gentler; he was Athos the brother this time. "You're a good man, do not gamble your life, not like this, you understand?"
Aramis nodded. "Shall we gamble with them through Gallagher?" The musketeers chuckled and exchanged a manly hug, before rushing to their corresponding positions, pistols drawn and cocked.
All that had been three months ago. Captain Treville had arrived with reinforcements to lift the siege and Gallagher had been killed and his men arrested. It turned out that, of all men, it was Cardinal Richelieu who had arranged the assassination because he genuinely believed it was in the interest of France to set aside a barren Queen for another one who could produce heirs. After a bit of cunning trickery by making the Cardinal believe that the Musketeers had handed over a letter by Gallagher directly implicating the Cardinal, they secured a confession from him that he was acting in the greater good of France when he ordered the assassination.
Aramis could swear that the Cardinal had wet himself when he realised that Queen Anne had heard everything. By whatever grace she was blessed with, Anne decided to not punish the Cardinal, because he was deluded enough to believe that this was genuinely in France's interest and the King would have been heartbroken to hear of this betrayal.
Had it been up to Aramis, he would not have risked the Cardinal crossing the line again and taken his head. Though the Queen gave him a stern warning- if he ever did anything like this again she would not be so lenient. She had put the First Minister of France to his knees and shook him to humiliation.
But later King Louis had anounced to the whole Court the miraculous news: the Queen was with child.
Aramis' heart had almost stopped and his strength had almost abandoned him. The Queen's face was full of anxiety and for one moment she had met his eyes, only to avert her gaze.
"Get me a new pistol," Athos had whispered to him amiably. The lieutenant gave a nod of understanding. I don't really want a pistol.
So here Aramis was, having dashed out of Court and the reality of the situation shooting his heart. Being a moderately devout Catholic, he had clung on to the hope of there being a future for himself and Anne. The royal marriage had been but a proxy one, arranged between two coldly politically minded families, and so far no children had been born. Could the Church ever grant an annulment? Either by a petition by Anne or Louis?
Anne could have been able to retire comfortably from royal life, no longer bound to the King, no longer Queen Anne, but Lady Ana once more. Aramis could love Lady Ana and not risk his own life and the life of the woman he loved for it. He could protect her, make her laugh, lay with her mirthfully; if they had children together they would have been loved and raised with the courage, kindness and wisdom of their mother and father. If they didn't have children then that wouldn't matter to him. But that was a fool's dream.
That was the worst part, he knew the father of that child- it was his own! It had to be. But he could never love him or her as such, they would never know who their real father was, never be part of his life. Instead, the greedy, stupid, whoring weakling who called himself King would be the one to groom them. If he ever found out the truth, he would kill them all.
Aramis had trained himself to die many times, but never had he envisaged feeling the deaths of Anne and their child, and no amount of training could save him from the numbness that spread through his shuddering body.
Aramis found his eyes leaking tears as he cursed Anne's father for selling her to Louis like chattel, cursed Louis for treating her poorly, but also cursed himself for dishonouring the woman he loved and putting her and his child at risk. That scar burned the deepest and nothing Aramis had trained for could save him from this. Guilt.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned," he murmured, once he found his way to confession booth of Saint Francis' Church. He found himself hesitant. He had sinned against God, himself and also Anne and his child. He knew he must confess, but did he have to describe who everyone was? What if someone overheard? What if Father Francis was bought and corrupt?
"So have I, but maybe I should confess to you!" a familiar voice answered.
Aramis cursed and then crossed himself. "Do you mind? I'm in the middle of something!"
The shutter pulled aside and a certain lieutenant smirked back at him. "Hello, Aramis."
"What have you done with Father Francis?"
"Well, Constance made this delicious chicken pie and I'm afraid the Father is otherwise engaged," Athos said cheekily, before his expression softened. "How're you coping, Rene?"
"Fine," Aramis lied.
"Do you want to confess to me, Rene?" Athos teased.
"Not really," Aramis said, rolling his eyes. "Why do you call me Rene, no one's called me that in ages?"
"Someone has to," Athos replied, before smiling. "Look, I just want you to know that you don't have to suffer in silence."
"The others can't know!" Aramis insisted. It wasn't their burden, and he didn't want it to be.
Athos looked conflicted but then nodded. "Then they won't, not from me." Aramis smiled and nodded, relieved and fully aware that it would be no easy thing to deceive D'Artagnan and Porthos. But it would be just these two who knew, and Athos would never betray his confidence. Perhaps they should amend the motto to Athos for Aramis, and Aramis for Athos, he wondered grimly.
There was a short pause before Athos spoke again.
"Do you want to take your mind off things? Captain Treville needs men to escort Count Mellandorf to the border, we leave tomorrow. There will most likely be bandits and brigands on the road. Are you in?"
Aramis swallowed and gave a wistful smile. "I am." Seeing the prince, princess or Anne in public would never be easy, it would torture his heart for a very long time. But before everything, Aramis was a soldier and soldiers have their duty. Their duty is what keeps them going and keeps them alive, when by all normal laws they should crawl and die, or become hollow shells.
"Very well then, the Father should be here soon." Athos rose to his feet and touched his hat.
"One more thing," Aramis called, as Athos reached the pews. "Thank you, Olivier."
"Any time, Rene!"