Joyeux Noël
A Musketeer story by Deana
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Aramis was early. He brushed the snow from his cloak as he entered the church and took off his hat, hesitating slightly before walking down the aisle. He usually sat in the front, but he headed towards a back pew instead, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Aramis quietly sat down and looked up at the stained glass windows, briefly marveling at their beauty before he bowed his head and sighed.
Yuletide was upon the earth; a time that always brought Aramis much joy. Celebrating the birth of the world's Savior had been important to him since he was a young boy, especially the year that his mother had handed him her Bible and allowed him to read the Christmas story to their family for the first time. He'd only been six years old, and his parents were very proud of him; no one else in the family had learned to read so well at such a young age. It became a yearly tradition after that.
Aramis smiled as he remembered that night, and reached for the bag that was slung across his body, taking out his mother's Bible and running his hand over the cover. When he turned twelve, she'd given it to him, and the verses within had brought him much comfort after she died.
With a sigh, Aramis closed his eyes. His dear mother wasn't the only deceased person on his mind that day…only nine months ago, twenty of his friends had been slaughtered in what was now referred to as 'the Savoy Massacre'. Twenty musketeers dead, one deserted, and Aramis the only man who had returned. He still couldn't comprehend it.
On this Christmas Eve night, the garrison had been loud with revelry, and Aramis had participated in the festivities as everyone expected him to, but inwardly, his heart wasn't in it. He couldn't help thinking back to the previous year, when the twenty dead musketeers and Marsac had been there. It was shocking to realize how much time had passed.
Aramis missed them, especially Marsac, despite the fact that his friend had abandoned him to die in the frozen forest.
Sighing, he opened the Bible, and his eyes fell onto a passage that he'd underlined a long time ago: Fear thou not, for I am with thee, be not dismayed; for I am thy God. I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.
Aramis smiled slightly at the words; it was one of his favorite verses, one that he could recite in his sleep. He opened the Bible to another random page and smiled again: I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.
Aramis closed his eyes and clutched the Bible to his chest, so grateful for his mother's gift.
Whispered voices filled the air as more people arrived for midnight mass. Aramis paid them no heed as he sat with his eyes still closed, even when some of them took a seat in his pew. The church bells started to ring a moment later, signaling that the midnight hour had struck and Christmas Day was upon them. Aramis raised his head, and was shocked to find Athos and Porthos sitting on either side of him.
Porthos smiled at him, and even Athos' lips curved upwards in greeting. They both knew Aramis' melancholy thoughts, and didn't want him to face them alone this Christmas.
Aramis' heart was immediately lightened, and he was struck by the realization that he may've lost Marsac and the others, but he still had Athos and Porthos. Laying the Bible on his lap, Aramis gripped Athos' left forearm and Porthos' right, squeezing them fondly in thanks. "Joyeux Noël, my friends," he said to them.
"Joyeux Noël, Aramis," they both replied in unison.
The priest at the head of the church motioned for the congregation to stand, and the three Musketeers rose to their feet. Aramis looked at the cross on the wall in front of them with renewed hope, knowing that no matter whom he lost here on earth, God would never leave him.
THE END