Author's Notes: I had been asked to write a longer piece (by Undertheoaktrees) as well as do another scene (by enjoyedit), and I decided that I would write a little something for myself in the process. I chose the episode "Through a Glass Darkly," as it covers a very intimate moment between Aramis and Anne. I also chose this scene because I had the desire to write some action and wanted the guilty pleasure of writing Aramis doing Assassin Creed-like things.
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Musketeers" in any capacity with the exception of the books written by Alexandre Dumas from where these characters were inspired. I do not own the scene from which I borrow, and I have merely extended it into a longer moment that I would love to read in a novel if the BBC series was ever presented in written form. There is no money made from this hobby, but that does not stop my imagination from conjuring up new stories. I hope I have captured the spirit of BBC's "The Musketeers," and that I have done justice to the characters as well as one of the many scenes that are so poignant to the series.
Summary: A novelization of the scenes from the episode "Through a Glass Darkly," in which I have extended the moments with some artistic license, to tell the tale of Aramis coming to the rescue of Queen Anne and the Dauphin.
The Light in the Dark Glass
Laughter. That's what he believed he heard as the fog of disorientation remained encased around him, making it difficult to think clearly. It was cruel and mocking, and the little, sharp sticks poking into his ribs were nothing short of aggravating. Aramis opened his eyes against that cruel laughter, growing more irritated at the jabbing and was struck by the light, which was now blinding and painful against his eyes.
The laughing demon caught his attention, and Aramis attempted to push aside the raven that was sitting upon him, no doubt waiting to be sure he was dead before picking at the new wounds upon his skin. The raven's predatory senses smelled fresh blood, and the large avian stubbornly flapped its wings claiming the musketeer's body as its own meal. Instead of flying away at Aramis' movements, though, the raven taunted him again with his sharp claws and vicious laughter.
Intense pain and blinding light ravaged Aramis, and he groaned at the feeling of it, trying to remember any iota of what happened and why this agony was the only sensation that he knew. Dazed, but aware of movement returning to his arms, Aramis blinked away the hazy throbbing in his head and used both hands now to angrily push the raven off him with more strength. The predator begrudgingly flew away, no longer laughing but instead squawking as though in warning that it would be back.
Aramis silently mused that he wasn't dead yet, and the black vulture of death had better reconsider just what a corpse was before assuming it had been provided one so conveniently.
Now that the raven was off Aramis, he looked upwards and took notice to the daylight above him, the sun still shining. He thought briefly about how long he had been lying where ever he was and worked to piece back together the events of the day. After a moment, his eyes trailed towards the wall with the windows above him, and when he saw the one window that was shattered open, he remembered being thrown out of it.
Sharp pain pierced the back of his head, and with a quiet groan he raised his hand to touch upon the ache at the back of his skull. As he did so, he felt the shard of glass entangled in his hair and sticking out of his scalp. Luckily, he realized, it was not deep, but it most certainly would leave a surface cut that he hoped would not trail too much blood. Grasping it tightly in his fingers, he pulled it free and released a muffled groan of relief and renewed pain as he tossed it aside.
Aramis heard the raven laughing once again, but it was distant, and when his eyes focused upon the black avian in the sky, he realized that the predator was warning him it would land again soon if he didn't get moving.
Awakening from the mind-numbing fog, the events of the day came crashing back to him – nearly literally – and Aramis remembered being pushed out the window to a fate that he was certain would not have ended with him landing on a precipice just a few yards below the window. Luck, God, fate, or whoever had caught him in the fall had made certain that he did not die today, and Aramis was going to use his spared life to the fullest of his duties.
Feeling a rush of adrenaline awaken him further, his heart clutched at the thought of Anne and his son still trapped inside the fortress with a crazed man who had bloodlust in his heart.
Getting his feet beneath him and forcing the last remnants of the pain and confusion away, Aramis considered a pathway to get back inside this fortress. They surely must believe him dead now, and that gave him the advantage, as long as he maintained his reconnaissance in stealth. If he made the slightest sound, it risked him being caught – and most likely killed – and then he would be of no use to anyone.
Reaching upwards, he found the ledge on the wall and began scaling it, carefully and cautiously. It would do him no good if he slipped and fell again, only this time missing that precipice entirely. He dug his fingers into each section of the stone ledge and pressed his boots against any outcroppings he could find. He knew he had little choice and had to keep going, ignoring the sharp edges of the stonework that bit into his fingers and palms. These were far from the first set of marks he had received in service to the crown, and he knew that the abrasions would toughen his hands even further. It was part of the sacrifice of being a soldier, and not only was he good at the job, but he could not deny that he enjoyed the adventure such a life brought.
Moving up another level on the outside of the building, Aramis thought he was doing fairly well, considering he had never actually climbed the side of a building quite like this. He had his share of hanging out window ledges and climbing to the ground below, usually at the expense of having shared a pleasant night, but it had never been this far above the ground.
Thinking about his past romantic adventures, he could not entirely fight the smirk that played across his face at the many memories. Aramis thought he had caught the next ledge, but his fingers slipped and he hurriedly gripped himself against the wall as tightly as he could. Taking a breath, he realized that he needed to keep his concentration on the task before him and not allow himself to get distracted with comparisons of his escapes from past excursions.
Looking up, he came to the conclusion that the reason for his slip was because he missed noticing a small chunk of the stone ledge had been broken off, probably destroyed over time and weakened from the changing weather. He shifted himself over a few feet and reached up again, relieved when his hand caught the ledge and connected tightly this time.
It was a slow dance, this moving, shimmying, climbing, and if Aramis thought he was in pain before, the muscles in his shoulders and arms screamed at him, begging for the torture to be done. Peering above him again, he was relieved when he saw that he had finally come across a window ledge with a window that was opened.
Aramis silently demanded that his body hold out for just a little longer, and as he finally reached that precious ledge, he decided to wait below the opening for a moment, listening carefully. He paused there for as long as his body would allow him before his muscles started shaking again from fatigue and strain.
When he was certain that there was no lookout or someone passing by, he hauled himself into the window opening. Slipping over the ledge, he took a couple steps and felt the muscle in the back of his right leg argue with him. Limping slightly to give the strain a moment to work free, Aramis fell against a wall, and tucked himself behind it, using the angles of the rooms to conceal himself while he considered his next course of action.
Movement from a dark figure caught his attention, and silently, he kept his eyes on one of these men who took orders from Marmion. Aramis considered his options for a moment while he assessed the man and contemplated how best to approach, since the man was wielding a large blade. This dark-clad menace was hefty, perhaps even considered burly, with short-cropped, dark hair that sat atop a round head on a thick neck. His light-colored eyes held no kindness in them, and as he continued down the hallway, he had malicious intentions in his eyes.
Aramis remained hidden in his alcove, watching and observing, his brain working furiously on a plan. He had decided that if he had at least one musket, he could take out one of the men and then fight his way through the other. Unfortunately, muskets were not an option, and he wasn't certain he could take out both of these men on his own in a physical fight, especially since the larger one was armed with that dangerous-looking blade. For as much as he hated the inaction of the moment, he knew that he would have no choice but to just maintain his hidden position and watch the empty hallway around him carefully until an opportunity presented itself in which he could gain the upper-hand.
The burly man paused momentarily from his destination as he veered into a different hallway. There was another robed man awaiting his approach, and as the burly man neared the doorway, he brought his hand forward. Wordlessly, the man who was waiting tossed to the other a set of keys. Armed with the keys, the burly man continued on his way and came to a room that was locked. Using the keys, he opened the door and stepped inside.
Aramis could not see what was happening from his position, but he heard screams of horror that lasted for terrifying, long moments before they were entirely silenced. Unable to hold his position any longer, Aramis felt the call of duty and quietly moved about the hallway. He slipped into open doorways, peering around corners and weaving his movements to keep obscured by the angles of the hallway.
He glanced into an open doorway and saw another of Marmion's men sitting, guarding a closed room in the hall behind him. Moving quickly, Aramis sped past the doorway silently, grateful when he did not hear the man from the room following. He heard footsteps and ducked into a doorframe that led to another room.
Hiding behind the doorway, Aramis watched the burly, dark-clad man holding a bloodied knife, his hands just as covered. Walking quickly, Marmion's man continued on his path away from the hidden musketeer and disappeared down another hallway.
Curious as to just why that man was covered in so much blood, Aramis sneaked out of his alcove in the doorframe and slipped between doors as he made his way to the room at the end of the hallway. He didn't even have to enter the room to see what was left behind. His heart sunk with dread as he recognized the expensive clothing and shoes on the victims that had been slaughtered. Members of the King's entourage had been mercilessly cut down, and the pool of blood was more than enough evidence for Aramis to understand just what kind of danger had befallen the royal family.
Aramis' sense of duty fully engulfed him now, and he had decided that he would save whomever he could or he would die trying. He would not sit idly by again and allow the people he had sworn to protect to be killed without reason. Cold clutched at his heart at the thought of Anne and his son lost somewhere within any of these doors, and he pushed aside the fear that he was already too late for them. He had to hold hope that he could save them, and he had determined that he would find them – no matter their fate.
Doubling back down the hallway, Aramis decided that he would start with the dark-clad man guarding the locked room. He peeked into the doorway where the man was sitting, assessing that he hadn't moved and was patiently awaiting whatever orders he was expecting. Aramis slipped back from the man's view before he was caught lurking, and the musketeer used the moments in silence to run ideas through his mind.
Again, without a musket or a sword, it made things much harder, but Aramis knew he was more than just a mere sharpshooter and swordsman. He had implemented his share of plans, and he would not have survived nearly as long as he had if he wasn't able to devise a plan on his own. Finally settling on his best option, Aramis concluded that he would just go with the unexpected.
Putting on his best charming smile, Aramis stepped towards the doorframe. Casually, he raised his left leg to prop it against the doorway and leaned his back against the opposing side. As though he had known this man his entire life, he rested his hands easily against his raised thigh.
He spoke lightly, with a cheerful tone in his voice. "So, what did you think of the eclipse? Quite the spectacle!"
The man looked up to him with confusion while pulling a musket from his side, and Aramis decided not to wait for the man to take advantage of the opportunity. The musketeer left the doorway just as casually as he had approached it and moved down the hallway, ducking into another alcove. Waiting for his enemy to follow, Aramis was not disappointed when the man came after him, rather than call for reinforcements.
Aramis watched the barrel of the musket pass by the doorway, and when the dark-clad guard was within sight, he grabbed his arm with the musket and slammed him against the wall. After that it was a blur of motion, as he pulled the guard with him, keeping their fight further from any main hallways. The musket clattered to the floor as fists exchanged between the two, and they grappled with each other, slamming against doors and walls, each trying to gain the upper-hand.
Aramis took a few punches, but not before he had managed to get in a few strikes of his own. The guard and he twisted again in each other's grasp, and Aramis found the opening he needed, landing a fist solidly into the guard's stomach. The larger man fell onto the floor with his breath knocked out of him.
Finding the opening he was hoping for, Aramis grasped the man's musket from the floor and flipped it so that he was holding the barrel. With a swing strong enough to tear through the stone walls of this fortress, Aramis brought the handle of the weapon against the man's skull, solidly landing it across his temple. The sound of the man's skull bone cracking was loud, but Aramis knew he had struck true as the guard fell back against the floor. The man's struggle had permanently ceased, as his cold, lifeless eyes stared upward at nothing.
Knowing he had no time to waste in recovery from his injuries, Aramis felt his sense of duty push him despite his fatigue. He quickly set the musket upon his belt and took the keys as well as the second musket from the dead man's body. He ran to the room from where this guard had been stationed, and worked the keys quickly into the lock on the door. He pushed the door open in relief when he did not immediately see any blood on the floor, but his heart exploded in his chest just as massively.
Overwhelmed with emotions that he could not even begin to explain in the confusion of it all, he was greeted by the look of shocked gratitude on Queen Anne's enchanting face. She stood in front of the dauphin's bassinet, her fear obvious, but with defiance shining in her eyes that she would not give up without a fight to preserve the lives of her son and herself.
Aramis briefly noticed that Marguerite leaned against the wall, the fright unmistakable in her eyes before she realized that they would not meet their end by the hand of one of Marmion's men.
Aramis shifted his eyes back to Anne, and unable to contain his relief, he fell to one knee before his queen. He took her soft hands within his, gripping them tightly. He felt her return their concealed affection, her fingers clasping firmly to his hands.
There was no mistaking the breathless concern in his gratitude now that she was still alive. "Your Majesty."
Anne released a breath of her own, her words soft with disbelief, "We thought you were dead."
Remaining in his position of a knight before his queen, Aramis glanced briefly at Marguerite and the bassinet behind Anne. "Are you all unharmed?"
"We are quite well," Anne replied, her eyes unable to look away from Aramis.
He felt his dark eyes return to his queen's blue ones, and despite the silent conversation they shared, Aramis felt the call of his obligations remind him that he served both of his sovereigns, not just his queen.
Dutifully, he asked, "And the King?"
"Alive when we left him," Anne responded, grateful to have this one fleeting moment again with Aramis, even if they could have nothing more than their hands holding each other's. Her breath caught, and she fought to inhale again, wishing she could kiss him. It had been far too long, and in his dark eyes, she could see he felt the same.
Bringing Anne's hands to his lips, Aramis substituted them for what he desired to do and kissed her hands as though they were her lips. He closed his eyes as he held them pressed against his lips, remembering those long stares they shared, their night at the convent, and that fleeting moment in Emilie's tent.
Opening his eyes, Aramis kept his grasp on Anne's hands but his dark irises returned to hers. "If I hadn't found you in time…"
"Once again, you are my savior," Anne responded, sharing a grateful smile, filling in his pause. After a brief heartbeat, she took one of her hands from his and used it to lift the jeweled cross from Aramis' chest. She felt the curiosity pass over her regal features, and she brushed her thumb gently across her secret symbol of appreciation, holding onto the memory of the day she gave it to him. "You still wear it."
Aramis brought his eyes down to her hand holding the piece of jewelry she had provided to him in a moment of innocent gratitude, and he wanted her to know just how much that moment and the ones afterwards meant to him.
When his eyes returned to Anne's, he answered her curiosity with only one word, a vow to her that he had not forgotten any of their time together and would seek her company again whenever possible. "Always."
Remembering that they were not clear yet from the dangers around them, Aramis got up from the floor and released Anne's hands. He stepped towards the opening of the door, listening for any signs of Marmion's men. He moved to poke his head out of the doorframe when he was suddenly pulled into an embrace that turned him back towards the room.
"Thank God you're alive," Marguerite whispered into his neck, expecting Aramis to embrace her with the same enthusiasm that she had offered him.
Feeling a discomfort course through his entire body as he was taken aback by Marguerite's unexpected enfolding arms, Aramis watched Anne lift the dauphin – his son – out of the bassinet. He loosely put his arms around Marguerite, offering a chaste return to her hug as though he was merely a confused soldier taking a grateful embrace from a scared governess.
Aramis' eyes met Anne's, and he saw the confusion in her irises as she looked at the way her son's governess was holding onto Aramis as though she knew him intimately. Aramis, however, offered nothing of the contrived relationship he had with the governess in order to steal moments with his son.
Feeling Aramis gently push her out of her embrace with him, Marguerite realized the reason for Aramis' hesitancy as she saw her queen looking at them.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Marguerite apologized, pushing loose hair from her face. "I'm forgetting myself."
Anne released her small smile, the one she reserved for when she did not wish to press on an issue at the moment, choosing instead to forgive the transgression. Her voice was diplomatic, not quite cold, but there was no warmth in it, as she was clearly distracted with other matters. "Your joy is understandable. I share it."
Anne watched Aramis step forward to look upon the baby in her arms, and she brought her eyes to him, feeling the kindness and warmth returning. A hidden pride slipped from her eyes, and she smiled intimately at Aramis as he reached towards their son's tiny hand. She was not blind to his affections for their son, and she embraced the warmth in her chest at the sight of him showing his compassions for their child.
"My son is quite well, Aramis," Anne smiled, enjoying the circle of their family – her true family – for the first time in her life. She closed herself off to the rest of the world, taking comfort in this one small moment, her thoughts thinking of how it would be for the three of them to just live happily and quietly away from it all.
Aramis felt his son grasp his finger, and his large thumb brushed against the baby's perfect skin, taking in the details of this moment. The child looked up to him, his large eyes so much like his mother's, he mused, and he felt a smile stretch across his face. This one moment he had waited to share for so long: Anne holding their son and he completing the trinity of their family, as they were finally together for once without the eyes of court or the king to question their closeness.
"And better for your protection," Anne offered quietly, her smile affectionately holding this moment in her heart and making it remain there so she could have it to draw upon in the future for strength and joy when she was deprived of both.
She watched the dauphin and his father interact silently, but with a love that was unmistakably between them. Then, movement caught the corner of her eye, and she had nearly forgotten about Marguerite still in the room with them. She saw her son's governess studying them with confusion, and Anne had no choice but to break that moment of intimacy the three of them had been enraptured within.
Bringing the diplomacy back into her voice, Anne proudly stated, "One day he will come to know the loyalty and bravery of his musketeers as I do."
"We have to get you out of here," Aramis told the queen, his eyes still having trouble breaking away from the child in her arms, despite understanding that the moment was over. However, duty won over and Aramis lifted the musket from his belt, handing it over to Marguerite, entirely oblivious to the annoyed look she gave him. The governess was starting to see that there was something more to this musketeer and her queen and that the conversation the two had shared was cloaked in something far deeper than merely a protector to the crown and the wife to the monarch of France.
"I cannot leave while the King is in danger," Anne protested softly.
"His first concern will be the safety of the dauphin," Aramis advised, aware of how much the king adored the child he believed was his own.
During the commotion of the moment in which he was providing a musket to Marguerite, Aramis had taken the opportunity to slip his son into his grasp, gently cradling him in the crook of his left arm. It would never be enough time, Aramis decided, but he was grateful Anne had allowed him to hold his son for the fleeting moments that he would have with him.
He glanced quickly at Anne and pulled another musket into his hand, instructing, "Make sure you stay close to me."
Moving through the hallways, Aramis and his entourage came to a glass window that was built next to a flight of stairs. He took a step forward, but realized the mistake too late as the guard at the bottom landing looked up to see him. The guard pulled his musket free and began moving towards the stairs.
Aramis ducked back down the hallway and handed his son over to Anne. Stepping towards the landing again, he stood in front of the glass window and took a breath, preparing to step into what would be a contest of the faster trigger finger. However, the sound of a struggle caught his attention, and in curiosity more than battle preparedness, he spun towards the stairway.
After turning the corner, Aramis held the musket in a raised and ready position, his eyes dropping to the body of the guard lying dead on the landing of the steps with a dagger expertly placed in his back. The moment was long and tense, and Aramis strained his ears to listen for whoever the adversary was that had removed the threat of this guard.
From the other end of the hallway, a figure in black rounded the corner, with a musket drawn and ready, and Aramis lowered his musket in recognition and relief.
"I heard you broke a window," Athos greeted with his monotone voice as he stepped towards the dead man to retrieve his dagger.
Aramis noticed the subtle concern and light-hearted tone in Athos' voice. It was not something many would recognize unless they knew the man as well as Aramis and Porthos did.
Responding to Athos' teasing, Aramis shot back, "Better that than my neck."
Hearing familiar voices, and seeing Aramis' gesture to encourage them to continue on, Queen Anne moved towards the steps while holding her baby, acknowledging the arrival of the musketeer. "Athos."
With two musketeers now as part of her entourage, Anne was certain that she, her son, and Marguerite would be escorted safely out of this nightmare. She eagerly moved down the steps, smiling gratefully, as she recognized Treville, and her certainty grew even more solid that they were now safe.
"Your Majesty," Captain Treville said in greeting. Then, he stepped protectively near his queen and held out his arms to guide her and her governess towards the path down the hallway that would ensure their safety. "Thank God you're safe."
Queen Anne smiled in relief, her words reflecting her joy at the rescue. "It's good to see you Captain."
"God was watching over you, your Majesty," Rochefort acknowledged as he now appeared and began moving up a flight of steps, heading towards the direction where Marmion and his men were still holding the others hostage.
"God and the musketeers," Anne responded quickly, pausing long enough to catch Aramis' eye.
Aramis knew that the queen's words were meant for him, and he offered a small, acknowledging smile, as a token to ensure her that he would not forget today, as they now had to go about their separate ways once again. He would always remember that moment in the room above in which Anne had offered him the gift of his family – the three of them together – father, mother, and child. He would hold onto that memory always, and while fate continued to ensure that they would never be the family he wanted, he would use that memory to never lose hope that one day he would know a family of his own.