Notes: This fic is from a reference in my fic 5xs Athos Ignored a Stray Cat and 1x He Didn't. It doesn't necessarily need to be read to understand this fic
A Weakening of the Heart
Chapter 1
Athos had been summoned by the queen. The message he received had been somewhat vague. She was worried about the first minister. He apparently had not been sleeping well for the past week and was working himself far too hard.
Athos knocked on Aramis' office door. A brusque 'come in' was his answer. Walking inside, Athos was taken by surprise. More like shocked really.
"Aramis, my God!"
Aramis looked up from the papers he was reading. Actually he was trying to read them, but kept losing his place and had to start again several times.
He felt hot and sweaty. He had removed his coat and was down to his shirt.
Aramis blinked several times at Athos trying to focus. He closed his eyes feeling dizzy.
"That is enough, Aramis," Athos took the papers from his friend's hand putting them aside.
"No, I must finish," Aramis struggled to grab the paper Athos had just taken.
"You need rest," Athos said.
Aramis attempted to pull away as Athos pulled him off his chair. It was a frustrating struggle for Athos, but he managed to get his friend standing. He wrapped Aramis' arm around his shoulders and hauled him across the room.
On their way to Aramis' rooms Athos found the Minister's secretary and ordered him to find a physician.
Athos took the simplest route to Aramis' rooms trying to avoid as many people as possible. He feared Aramis might be contagious and he couldn't risk it getting to the queen regent or their young king.
Athos wondered what had happened in the last week that had brought Aramis to this state. He hadn't seen his friend in those days.
They finally made it to Aramis' rooms. Athos laid him down on his bed. He removed his friend's boots and breeches leaving him in his shirt and braies. He tucked him in only laying the thinnest of blankets down over him.
Now it was a matter of waiting for a doctor. As he waited he realized the position he had put himself in. He would likely have to stay until the doctor could be certain whatever ailed Aramis was not contagious. He needed to get a message to Sylvie.
Sylvie was about four months with child. It was to be their second with Raoul, now three, their first.
He looked around the room and found on Aramis' desk a quill and ink with some papers unused. He quickly wrote out two notes. The first was to Constance asking her to see Sylvie and explain the situation. The second was to d'Artagnan, the captain of the Musketeers to inform him of the situation.
He went to the door looking out into the hall and called to a guard. "Have these delivered to Captain d'Artagnan and his wife at the garrison."
Once he was certain his orders would be carried out, he closed the door.
He looked over at his friend. Aramis was agitated, barely coherent.
A knock came to the door. He walked briskly across the room and was met with surprise. "Your majesty," he quickly bowed before placing his hand against the door frame blocking the queen from entering. "Forgive me, your majesty, but it would not be wise to enter. The minister is very ill and may be contagious, I cannot in good conscience allow you entrance."
The queen stopped her forward momentum and looked at Athos intently. She was examining him looking for the truth in his words. "Very well, Athos. You have always been a trusted ally. And I know you have always had Aramis' best interest at heart as well as Ours," he felt as if there was some deeper message to her words, but at the moment he couldn't think of what that could be and really did not care as long as she agreed.
"Just please send a message if there is any change," she said.
The vulnerability and fear in her eyes startled him, but he managed to hide it well. He also understood it. Not only for his own fear and worry for his brother, but the love she held so clearly for Aramis he understood too well. He had just never been witness to her feelings for Aramis so clearly.
It was only a few more minutes after the queen left that a doctor arrived. The doctor, Pascal, was a short man of about fifty. He was the king's own physician.
Athos combed a hand through his hair waiting for the doctor to speak since he had begun his examination of Aramis.
His thoughts turned to Porthos. The General was away on the queen's business. He had been returned home for a few months from the war. He wasn't expected back for a few more days.
Athos blew out a deep breath. It was no longer just the four of them. They all had responsibilities greater than before; not only to crown and country, but to wives and children. It was a difficult balancing act, but the bond between the four of them had never wavered and never would.
"Influenza," the doctor's voice nearly startled Athos.
Influenza? How did he catch that? "Doctor, will he survive?" Athos asked. It took all of his strength to ask the question. He could not countenance the possibility of losing Aramis.
TBC