I'm pretty new to The Musketeers but the show's grown on me fast. Hence the S2 story now. I read some comments that a few people think Anne's refusal of letting Aramis close Rohefort's eyes in 2x10 gave her a darker side than usual. I think the poor girl was just suffering from massive PTSD and wanted to get some power back. I mean the guy's effectively been stalking her since she was 13, tried to rape her, threatened her loved ones and got her husband to sign-off on her execution. That's enough to mess anyone up.
So I wrote this with some thoughts on how her relationship with Rochefort went. Aramis and Constance popped up more than planned but, eh...
This is my first Musketeers story. Let me know what you think.
Ana Maria Mauricia de Habsburgo, the Infanta of Spain and Portugal is thirteen years old when she first meets the Comte de Rochefort. He is to be her tutor on France. Ana is wary. Her mother is dead, her father grieving and her siblings confused. She has no wish to leave Spain for France for she has heard nothing but terrible things.
Rochefort is aloof at first. Practical. He corrects her French and tells her the differences and similarities of her future home to the only one she has ever known. Slowly France sounds less terrifying, undesirable, but less terrifying.
Her father hides his disdain for the Frenchman behind a civil facade. Phillip voices his loudly, and Charles and Ferdinand follow his example. Maria watches from a distance with cautious eyes. But Ana, always willing to choose friendship over animosity where she can find it, believes she has found the potential older sibling she never had.
All too soon though the time comes for her to leave. Even Rochefort's stories cannot halt her floods of tears. Her brothers and sister cling to her until the last possible moment. Her father gives her a simple kiss goodbye. It is Rochefort who speaks to her last as he helps her into the carriage. He slips something into her hand. A crucifix. Even under such circumstances she cannot forget her duty as a princess. "Thank you, Rochefort. I will treasure it always."
She arrives in Paris. It is harsh and strange and cold. Her belongings are taken from her. The First Minister snubs her, the King ignores her and the Queen Mother refuses to acknowledge her at all. Only Captain Treville pays her any form of respect, attention or civility.
But Ana is a daughter of Spain and of the House of Austria. She meets the challenges she faces. She becomes Anne, Queen of France and learns the ways of a French court. She thinks less of her time in Spain.
She hears of Rochefort's capture. She realises it is the first she has thought of him in some time. She prays he doesn't suffer long. He drifts from her mind once more. The crucifix lies entangled with golden chains and poorer jewels that Anne rarely considers. It's origin as long forgotten as the piece itself.
Until a Musketeer saves her life at a French prison. Her eyes fall on it as she searches hopefully through the pile. The simplicity and modesty of the piece, so inappropriate for a French Queen in a French Court, are what makes it perfect for her purpose and she ties it eagerly around her neck. She never once recalls the man who gifted it to her. Only the one who now wore it.
Her infatuation grows. Men try to kill her. He grieves for a lost life. She fears she will never know another. They are two lonely souls trapped in a world not of their choosing. She has seen his bravery in protecting her, heard his kindness in the comfort he offers, sensed his integrity in his wish to give hope to a condemned woman.
She will likely be dead in the morning. For the first time in her life Ana lets herself chose the life she might have lived.
She survives. They survive. Before she can fully comprehend the series of events she is back in Paris once again Anne the Queen to Louis' king. The role comes with such absent-minded familiarity, she wonders how she ever entertained the thought of anything else. She realises it for what it is. A dream.
A dream that was lived for one precious moment when she realises she is with child. A miracle that is proof of her most treasured gift. She is not a fool. This child is an act of adultery, of treason. He will die with his mother and father if the truth is ever discovered. The stakes are greater than ever.
But she can only be happy and hopeful. She is sure this baby will be healthy and strong like his father. She cannot regret. The secret will be her cross to bear.
Aramis gives his vow. She thanks him with coded words.
She catches Richelieu watching her sometimes. She knows his secret and she wonders does he know hers.
Her son is born on the same day as the Cardinal's funeral. It is the most painful thing she has ever experienced. And forgets instantly when the most beautiful, perfect baby boy is placed in her arms. She presents the baby to Louis. He will be loved and safe.
She is exhausted but Anne knows her duty. The Cardinal's death will grieve Louis. He and France will need support and guidance now more than ever.
She is truly glad to see Rochefort again. Her love of Spain does not blind or deafen her from their ways. She stiffens at the insults to her homeland but will not resent a friend his freedom. His presence is a welcome distraction from the disappointment of Treville's refusal.
And from Aramis' eyes. By silent agreement they have kept their distance. But Anne can still feel his gaze. He is the only person who never looks away from her.
She meets Constance the same afternoon and admits more than she intended but D'Artagnan's description has left her intrigued and Anne is delighted that she feels a connection towards the other woman. Constance feels it too, shyly eager to accept. For the first time since she can remember coming to France Anne feels like she belongs.
The day before her son's christening Captain Treville informs her that the king is missing. Fear incites her fury. Her usual trust in the Captain's men is shaken. The implications weaken France, make her vulnerable, endanger her son. Rochefort suggests a tale of illness. It is a potential fix. Temporary at best, but it gives her time to breathe. To think. She is grateful for her old tutor.
She is torn between Rochefort and Constance as they argue for and against D'Artagnan. Anne's own optimism and practicality wage a war alongside them. Her faith in the Musketeers or her longing for her brother.
She is in a precarious position and she cannot risk her son's future. With a heavy heart and a troubled mind, she signs the letter and trusts Rochefort to deliver it.
Louis arrives just as the christening begins. Anne is overcome with joy and relief at the knowledge that he is safe and there. Together they watch as the Dauphin is christened in front of all those important to his future. It slips her mind that she has not thanked the Musketeers or their Captain or apologised for her crisis of faith. So does her letter.
Her son falls ill. Anne cradles him, his wheezing cries pierce her soul with every laboured breath. She freezes when she sees Aramis at the door. It is the first time she has seen him while their son is present. His features reveal his heart. She wants to plead for his help but this is beyond his abilities. Only God can save her son. Louis' cries pull her back and Anne turns away fighting her own tears. She hears Marguerite close the door. Anne holds her baby closer and prays.
He worsens. Dr Lemay suggests leeching. Constance provides a voice to her despair. The king threatens and shouts and demands. Anne wishes she could do the same but some things even kings aren't capable of and queens even less. She leaves the room. She will not go far, she will not leave her son, but she cannot face anyone now. Rochefort follows her, he reminds her of her strength. She has survived loss before.
She confesses her thoughts to him. The king will blame her. There is no greater sin in the French court than to be Spanish. She is grateful for his friendship. There are so few she can bare to look at now. With the misery of the day he is the one consolation. A reminder of her childhood when her life was simpler, happier, innocent. A life where she was just a Spanish Princess surrounded by family and friends who loved her. He is the only link she has left to her past in Madrid.
"I love you." She stares startled. "As any subject loves his queen." She relaxes at the clarification. For a moment she had thought… but that is ridiculous. He was her tutor. He has known her since she was a child. That would mean… It couldn't possibly be. He is a servant to the king. She puts it out of her mind.
Her son is taken. She is numb. Nothing is as terrible as this. Rochefort accuses Constance and Marguerite. Anne cannot consider the allegations. All she wants is her child.
She realises she must inform the king. And knows instantly how he has been passing the time. The entire court sees. The king's state of undress and the strange woman under the dining table with him remove all doubts. She informs him of the kidnapping and departs, tears escaping. She is truly alone now.
Constance is responsible. A further blow against her. Anne asks the other woman if she hates her. She does not seem to have any true friends. Constance pleads and cries, claiming an act of help. The king is furious. Anne wonders if the other woman speaks the truth or if they are only attempts to help herself. She is tired and overwrought and desolate. She doesn't trust any judgement now, even her own.
Dr Lemay declares her son improving. Anne's faith is restored. She takes her son and thanks Constance with all her heart.
Milady De Winter moves into the Palace. Louis is besotted with her. Everyone at court stares, bows and gossips. The king's mistress is the focus of all. A mysterious, seductive, exotic French creature who captivates the king. The differences sting Anne.
A peasant girl is reported to be proclaiming her brother the Anti-Christ. Several Spanish are killed and yet nothing is done. It infuriates her further. She is not useless. She is not powerless. She is sister to the King of Spain and wife of the King of France. She is the Queen. If no one else will do something she will.
Her plan goes disastrously wrong. She feels even more helpless, more powerless, more lost. These people want her dead because of her birthplace. She will never truly belong.
Aramis chastises her. He is the only person who treats her as a woman of worth, an equal, and not the Spanish-born queen who must be protected from the world. It only reawakens her feelings and reminds her that she has missed him. It is the first time they have been alone together since the night they conceived her son. It is foolish and dangerous but she cannot stop herself from wanting him.
It is Constance who discovers them. She believes the other woman to be a good person but now their situations are reversed. Constance has the power of her secrets. "You carry my life in your hands."
Perales is murdered. Louis outraged, more by the apologies needed towards her brother, she suspects, than the poor man's death. Rochefort suggests Emilie as the culprit. Anne remembers the girl who preached hatred and yet still treated her with humanity and civility. The girl who prevented her death and allowed her release. The girl who had been honourable even as an adversary. That girl did not commit such a crime. She speaks her conviction out loud before realising it would raise questions.
She flinches slightly when Rochefort does so. There is an edge of suspicion in his demeanour and something else she cannot name. Her mind flashes back. Aramis had openly challenged her, reprimanded her even, but the respect and concern in his manner had been unmissable.
Only the two people she trusts most know of her escapade from the Palace. Rochefort is not one of them. For the first time since meeting him, Anne feels the slightest tremor of apprehension towards her old tutor.
Milady De Winter is now a permanent fixture of court. Louis doesn't hide his favouritism. She smiles, hides her true opinions and holds her tongue. She has practice after all.
They are captured by Marmion. She, her son and Marguerite are taken from the rest and left in a room. She begs and bargains for her son. Queens do not plead for anything. Mothers do. Her cries fall on deaf ears.
Marguerite is afraid. They all are. But Anne is a Queen, a leader. Queens do not show fear. She tells the other woman as much, reminding her of the Musketeers valour. Marguerite reminds her of Aramis' fate. Anne takes a breath. She cannot accept, cannot mourn, cannot argue. Musketeers do not die easily but she saw him fall with her own eyes. Her spirits are a cross to bear in silence. Her son must be her priority. She is his protector now.
Footsteps approach. Horrified, agonized screams ring out. The thick walls do not drown out the deaths of her courtiers. They were not her favourites but they were innocents. Anne weeps and prays for them.
The door creaks and shakes from blows. The walls thump. The lock turns. Their deaths have come. Anne prepares herself. She will fight for her son if necessary. Even if only for a few extra moments of life.
Aramis falls at her feet. Her relief is palpable. The same emotions are in his eyes when she confirms they are unharmed. She notices her gifted crucifix still around his neck.
"Always." The word is loaded with so much meaning that she is momentarily stunned.
She finds it slightly odd to see the governess embrace the Musketeer but brushes it aside. It has been a stressful day. And Aramis' presence is a natural comfort. She doesn't blame the other woman from seeking reassurance of safety.
She presents her son to Aramis. The adoration that shines on his face is stronger than even she imagined. It warms her heart. Marguerite shifts and the spell is broken. They are not alone and they cannot remain in this room.
She argues briefly for the king, but Aramis insists on the Dauphin's safely. She doesn't have the strength or will to argue further.
She is only partly surprised that they make it as far as they do so easily. The Musketeers are capable of impressive feats. She is thankful when they encounter Athos and Captain Treville. She is certain they will be safe now. She corrects Rochefort's assumption that God is watching over her. After all it is God and the Musketeers.
The trauma is too much for the king. He shuts himself away like a recluse. She enlists Rochefort's help. She tries to think it is good that Rochefort is accepted when she is rejected. At least one of their friends has achieved success. She can't quite manage the serenity of mind.
Monsieur Bonacieux dies. Constance does not allow her duties to suffer. Anne is thankful. She craves a friend. She theorises that Constance prefers the work to the alternatives and Anne will not take that from her.
Rochefort persists and blocks her access to the king. Constance warns her but Anne plays naïve. She knows how influence and power can morph those who taste it. She has seen it. It saddens her that her old friend would be so weak. But Anne also knows how difficult it can be to be an enemy of the First Minister. She will not make Rochefort one without reason.
One bright light exists in the gloom. She is able to be alone with her son. The son who smiles and coos at her. The most perfect reminder of his father.
Constance finds them on the floor of her chambers. She does not mind the intrusion. Constance has proven to be her most trusted confidante and truest friend. She will be forever obliged to D'Artagnan for his recommendation. She only wishes she could repay the other woman's friendship.
She does not know the intimates of the Bonacieux marriage, though she has her own suspicions. What she does know is that Constance is her friend, a good woman and someone who deserves to be happy. It may not be with D'Artagnan, Anne acknowledges, but Constance has the chance to follow her heart wherever it may lead. Anne does not have that gift of freedom. She will not let Constance give up hers.
The peace and tranquility of the room spark an idea and Anne confesses her greatest dream. And her greatest secret.
She is praying when Rochefort enters her chambers unannounced and uninvited. Concern immediately tingles in her blood at the breach of etiquette.
She is confused at first. His behaviour is odd. His words lack clarity or context and Anne's unease sharpens to disquiet. Her distress grows with his. She is incredulous that he thinks she would remember something so childish from so long ago. Something that was said out of decorum and innocence. For the first-time Anne allows the less positive thoughts she has had, the brief questions of his character to the front of her mind.
"And now I find this same gift around another man's neck."
The blood freezes in her veins. He knows. Anne is truly afraid now.
She orders him to go and he refuses. He announces his love for her. Anne can only stare with wide eyes, speechless as he declares their mutual feelings. He believes it she realises. She recognises she has done nothing to imply it. Not then, not now. She is nearly hysterical with shock and disbelief at the appalling revelation. Rochefort is completely mad. And she is trapped with him.
He comes closer, puts his hands on her. Anne is horrified by his suggestions, by the realisation. Had he thought this all along? Her confidences, her trust, her friendship. The innocence of the young girl under his tutelage. What had this monster corrupted as part of his perverted fantasy?
His hands climb. His hot breath chills her skin. She feels his lips and cannot take another moment. She screams. Her hand stings from the slap but she never registers the pain.
Her panic rises when he tells her no one will help her. She runs. He throws her to the floor. Her tears can no longer be held back. Not even her enemies have treated her with such violence.
She sobs as Rochefort insists she will love him. Never has a lover's plea sounded so threatening, so unlike love. She screams and struggles as he forces himself on her. The experience is unlike anything she has ever encountered. She had given herself freely to Aramis and he had never pursued more than she was willing to give. Even Louis' awkward visits had sought her consent first. The comparisons only heighten her fear and increase her resistance.
She breaks free for a moment before she is flung onto her back. Rochefort's lips graze her skin like sandpaper. His weight crushes her to the floor, his hands tight restraints on her wrists. Her hair pins prick her scalp. Her pearls click with movement. Anne's cries are wails now. Her lungs scream for air. Her heart hammers against her pressing ribs. Still she fights. She will never give in willing. Her dread and despair fuel her.
Constance - loyal, dedicated Constance - walks in. Rochefort is distracted. Anne grabs the hairpin, the sharpest thing to hand and jabs upwards. She does not try to kill him. She does not think that she is wounding him. She only wants him gone.
Rochefort howls in pain and rolls off her. Anne weeps into Constance's welcome embrace. She hears Rochefort's threat. She clings to Constance as Rochefort bellows. Fright renders her immobile as she comprehends the nightmare is not over.
Her ladies redress her hair. The blood is wiped from her hands. Within minutes it is as if nothing ever happened. It makes everything seem stranger because Anne has endured it.
Constance returns with the Musketeers. Her ladies are dismissed to speculate amongst themselves. For once the four men's presence brings her no solace, no assurance. Something else that Rochefort has taken from her. She finds Aramis. For the first time since that gunfight at the Chatelet she cannot meet his eyes. She can feel the concern in his gaze, hear the anger buried in his even tone.
It is D'Artagnan who raises the matter of the king. Only now does it occur to Anne that the king must be informed. Even that task seems arduous but Anne will never shirk her duty. She requests them to escort her. She is not yet willing to be alone.
Rochefort reaches Louis first. Proof of his duplicity and manipulation aptly displayed. She reads the long forgotten letter she once wrote. Louis is livid and her explanations fall on deaf ears. Even the Musketeers testimony cannot convince him otherwise. Her husband is firmly in Rochefort's thrall. Far more than Anne had comprehended.
They are surrounded by Red Guards. Another slight. Arrogant gestures of success. Anne's fury sparks as she sees the ploy for what it is. She was raised in the ways of politics and diplomacy. She has survived the French Court through learning its practices.
She will not let him win. He may be able to inhibit the Musketeers now but he will not vanquish them. She will not allow it.
He addresses her as "Madam." The disrespect infuriates her. He may influence the king but she is the queen and she will not let it be overlooked. Not by him.
The Musketeers share her anger. She hears it in Porthos' roars. Sees it in the set of Aramis' shoulders and Athos' glare.
She does not flinch when the soldiers depart. Meets Rochefort's stare with a glower of her own. She is a Princess of Spain. The Queen of France. Rochefort has long forgotten that. Anne has not.
Rochefort takes her son. Anne sees he will not hurt the baby. Not for the time being. She entrusts his care to Marguerite. The poor woman is an innocent pawn and the governess will look after her son until she can be reunited with him.
She doesn't falter at the man's accusation. Her husband will listen to reason eventually. He has always done so before.
She and Constance prepare themselves when they hear the heavy footsteps. Relief does not have time to take hold. She must leave the Palace. Rochefort is a Spanish spy. The absurdity leaves her senseless. For that to be true, to be the reason for Rochefort's treason, it would mean her brother has forsaken her. Anne refuses to believe that. Their loyalties are to different countries now but they have not renounced loyalty to each other.
Milady's appearance only adds to the surreal.
Aramis' pleas soften her slightly. But she will not leave her son alone, defenceless among those who may harm him. Constance volunteers to stay. Once again Anne feels more appreciation towards the other woman than she can ever express. She will never too able to thank her enough.
The convent is as she remembers it. Memories are not a luxury she can indulge in now. She cannot help the smile that comes to her lips at the Captain and his men's loyal service. They take their leave and suddenly she is alone with Aramis.
She urges him to leave. She must battle her enemies but he can flee. He refuses. Anne is not surprised. It is part of who he is. It part of why she loves him. She admits to him what they both know in their hearts. He swears to protect her. He will keep his vow until his last breath. Even if it means his life for hers or her son. He will not break his word.
Whatever the outcome he is in her heart. She will not regret experiencing true love. And she will never regret the child conceived from it. She tells him so. If she is to die she wishes for that one moment of honesty.
Athos brings them news of the king's poisoning. She must return. She ignores their protests. Her duty is in Paris. She needs to protect her son. She will not abandon him to save herself.
They debate Rochefort's scheme. Anne pays little attention, too distracted by her own necessary preparations and too stunned to focus on theirs. It is Aramis' suggestion of blaming her for the poisoning that brings Anne back. The audacity overwhelms her. The men descend into arguments.
Reality slowly dawns on her. Rochefort is a traitor. The king has been poisoned. Her son is defenceless. Anne makes her decision. Aramis is the one who quarrels most but she is resolute. Regardless of the danger, she has duties as queen, mother, wife and friend. She cannot cast them off.
There are fewer things more powerful than a leader's words. The Musketeers immediately commence their plotting. It is easy to comprehend how these men are the greatest servants and guardians of France.
They wish Porthos good luck and ride for Paris.
Anne is desperate for news of her son but Marguerite only urges them to hurry. They walk straight into a trap. Rochefort refuses to obey her. She realises the depths of his depravity when he informs her of Dr Lemay's death.
The understanding of his mind disgusts her. This is her punishment for rejecting him. He cares nothing of the king or France only power and his warped ego. She will not concede, will not cower to this man.
She arms herself against his insults. He tells her the source of Marguerite's treachery. She cannot stop herself from looking to Aramis, for him to deny the falsehood. She receives disappointment and betrayal once more.
The chinks have grown now, scattered throughout her armour. She implores for her son. Rochefort delights in denying her. She is escorted away to be a prisoner. She hears Aramis' arrest. The command is the last thing she hears before she is confined.
Her son's cries carry through the halls. She ignores her ladies and dismisses Marguerite's assurance of his care. She wants to know the price of this disloyalty. The other woman is shaken by her words but Anne will not relent.
She spies the open door.
She makes it all the way to king's quarters. She drops to his side, speaking her case. Louis diverts his eyes, insisting she go. Their marriage was for politics but he is her husband and she is his wife. They have been friends long before these events and that is not nothing. Louis can be querulous but he is fond to those he holds attachments for. She is one.
She can see the uncertainty in his eyes. He is wavering in his mind.
Her heart breaks when he states the evidence must be considered. He does not believe her. Never once, even when dismissing her, has he ever questioned her character before. How had Rochefort gained so much control?
Anne sinks further to the floor. Her hope melts like snow in spring. Rochefort has poisoned his mind, twisted her in Louis eyes as much as he had in his own. If the king does not see the injustice to her who would.
Marguerite helps her to her feet and she protests her innocence once more. Louis never turns as she is led from the room.
The Palace, always a gilded cage, is now a literal prison.
Her jailer enters. She nearly laughs when he offers help. He has done everything to undermine her. He has deliberately harmed innocents and friends to hurt her because of his distorted sense of insult. He thinks himself entitled to power and prestige, to the Crown, to France, to her.
"I am the Queen. Sister to the King of Spain. I do not plead for anything."
Even now his aid is another cruel manipulation, an assertion of power. A way to indebt herself to him. She may not be able to stop him. She may go to her death. But she will not beholden herself to his mercy. He has none.
She goads him with Constance's escape. The other woman has never fallen for his tricks. Her freedom and the Musketeers attacks are symbols that his power is not so limitless. And it infuriates him.
He retaliates. Reminds her that they are alone and in her chambers. As before she thinks. But she is prepared now. She sees who truly stands before her. Anne will not cower this time. She will not weep nor scream. She will not show him fear or anything else but her disdain.
"Know this Rochefort, in all that time I did not think of you once." She means every word. It is her authority over him.
He tells her of Aramis' torture, how he will die. The wheel is one of the cruelest forms of execution. That is why he chose it. He persists in his spitefulness, mockingly describing details. Anne turns away fighting for her composure.
"It is pain. Suffering." His idea of love is as disturbed as he is. Love is joy and hope. Comfort and safety. Dreams, trust, faith. Passion and strength. Good.
That is the difference between them. She knows real love. He is incapable of it.
Anne braces herself against his attack. He takes pleasure imagining her lover's agony. She can hear it in his voice. He is a sadistic monster.
Her self-possession breaks at the thought of Aramis begging for death. The image of the man who never faltered to defend his loved ones, who had vowed to guard Crown and country, the man she had seen enter battle without hesitation or fear, begging for his life was more painful than anything else the traitor had said.
She battles for strength. Even now he cannot understand her anguish. Her suffering comes not from love but that her lover would be so broken. Compassion, empathy, they are as strange to Rochefort as love.
She does not have the strength to argue though. All of hers is channeled to keeping her hope and her faith. If this is how he treats the person he professes to love, show such vindication for her crime of loving another, what will he do to her child?
She hears the commotion outside her quarters, sees the entire Palace emptied. She leans against her doors. Rochefort's plan is complete. She knows what will happen next.
Anne prays. She prays for her son, for Aramis, for Constance. She prays for the king and the captain and the Musketeers who fought so valiantly for her. She prays for her brother. And she prays for herself.
"Amen."
One tear slips down her cheek. He has come for her and there will be no escape this time. She spies the chain that dangles from his fingers. Her end is here.
She takes a breath, and steels herself. "You will never touch me again Rochefort." It is the one good thing to come from her death. She will be free of him.
Once more she feels his weight against her. He strokes her neck leaving ice in his wake. His noose presses against her throat. She makes her peace and says goodbye as the pressure grows.
The gunshot startles both of them. Rochefort groans in pain. Anne collapses at the rescue unable to believe her saviour has come once again. Aramis glares at Rochefort with a hatred Anne has never seen from him.
It is a fight more brutal, verbally and physically, than Anne has ever witnessed. Blood from both men trickles to the floor. Two men claiming devotion to her but only one trying to save her as the other wishes to own her. The poetry is lost in the chaos.
Rochefort fights to kill. Taunts and dirty tricks. He has lost whatever sanity he had left. He will murder everyone in the room and take what vengeance he believes is his. He is wild and desperate and it shows.
Aramis refuses to let her or Constance near the madman. His breathing is laboured more than it should and Anne worries what sufferings have been inflicted on him.
Aramis' skills wins out and his blade finds Rochefort's back.
Even surrounded by Musketeers, his secrets revealed, Rochefort refuses to concede defeat. It is D'Artagnan's sword that finishes him. Anne walks into her reception room to watch him die. She needs to see this. Needs to know he is truly gone.
He removes his eyepatch. The disfigurement a glaring reminder of everything he has done to her. The desperation, the terror. A victim in her own home, her own domain. Torture and suffering. A possession that was his to use and take, punish and enjoy as he chose.
He still has the gall to proclaim them as the liars.
"Yours are the lies Rochefort and they will join you in your grave." He has deceived her trust, assaulted her, tortured her, endangered her son, harmed her friends, jeopardised France, poisoned the king, unjustly sentenced her, had her husband sign her execution and try to murder her. He is the first person Anne truly hates with every fibre of her soul. Rochefort is irredeemable.
He discloses his actions weren't for Spain. Anne feels sick. What would he have done if her friends had not been able to stop him. What would he have done if he had gotten his wishes.
She is the last thing he sees before he dies. He still thinks he is entitled to dictate the terms of their interactions.
She still holds one power over him. One way in which she can deny him, a way for her to get justice for what he has done.
"No Aramis. Not for him."
Note: Anne's gift to Aramis is actually a crucifix not a cross. Ironically the characters would now the difference even if the writers don't. I'm a stickler for canon when I'm not writing AUs though so I'm using crucifix too.
Hope you liked it.