Author's Notes: I had not planned to write an entry this month, as I was still collecting myself after one of my family members suffered some very serious health complications. However, as I was scrolling through Tumblr, I was inspired by another of Loveel-Who's screen captured edits. The lighting she used in this image had given me the prompt I needed to write something and add it to the January "Light" challenge. This story is shorter than my usual tales, but I am writing merely on the image taken out of context from the episode where it originated. With that said, I do apologize for any mistakes in context or continuity, as I have not watched the series in nearly a year and had to rely solely on reading an online synopsis of the episode to jog my memory of the events.
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Musketeers" in any capacity with the exception of the books written by Alexandre Dumas from where these characters originated. There is no money made from this hobby, but that does not stop my imagination from conjuring up new stories.
Summary: Character study of Aramis coupled with the underlying theme of protection as seen in the episode "The Exiles." Based on a Tumblr image from Loveel-Who in which Aramis is standing in a field of natural light. My entry in the January Fête des Mousquetaires challenge: Light.
A Clear Conscience
A breath. That's all he needed and wanted. It seemed for days that he was running, hiding the innocent lives of Henri and Agnes from a fate that neither of them deserved. His heart felt heavy with the burden, and while logic had told him that he never should have gotten personally involved, he could not turn his back on a baby and his loving mother.
Now that he had taken those innocents under his care and had promised them that they would not find execution or persecution at the hands of the corruption within France's monarchy, he had come to an impasse in what to do next. He found himself fumbling in the figurative dark for handholds of salvation to keep Henri and Agnes safe and get them past the borders that held them prisoner.
More than once during this treacherous task of eluding their enemies, Aramis had felt as though the world was closing in on both the innocents who were under his care and his own conscience. But, here in this moment, one of those prayers – no matter how fleeting it was when he had offered it – had been answered.
He stood bathed in the light of the sun, the browns of his uniform and the weapons of his vocation feeling heavy upon his body, just as his heart felt heavy about betraying the orders he had originally been provided on this mission. The pauldron of the Musketeers he still wore on his right shoulder had become a weighted burden upon his arm and the guilt in his conscience about running from his brothers had fared no better. He knew what his duty under that pauldron required of him, but it was his sense of honor as a man that was guiding his actions now.
Believing God had finally granted him this small respite of nature as a reward for his kindness and determination, Aramis tilted his face upwards, his dark eyes looking at nothing but seeing everything around him. His face caught a breeze, the air tickling through his goatee, and as the light of the day washed him within it, he felt a warmth permeate him. Lost in the moment, the darkness of Aramis' hair became a couple degrees warmer, as the light from above absorbed into his scalp. Keeping his face angled as he had, he offered silently his gratitude and admiration for the natural painting he now stood within.
Aramis considered for a long moment the bright, blurry shades of green that surrounded him – gradients of dark emerald that extended into the lightness of an exotic fruit he once glimpsed and learned was called a lime. These stalks of grasses were of varying heights, most of them remaining no taller than his ankles, but the ones that had reached higher were decorated with wildflowers. Hanging like delicate doilies, the white flowers were miniature bouquets of miniscule blooms, their scent wild and earthy. Lower to the ground were the bright blue cornflowers with a scent he could barely detect, but somewhere in between were the wild buttercups with their yellow flowers emitting a sweetness that washed over him on the gentle breeze.
To his left, his peripheral vision caught the grays and whites of a distant mountain, its dangerous terrain seeming smooth and manageable. Perhaps, it was just a trick of the daylight, but in his mind's eye, Aramis considered that the mountain was merely a large rock that was not the obstacle it was thought to be. In his silent wonderment, he considered that he might actually be able to scale the mountain's height and touch the clouds that hung lightly in the sky above.
In front of him was the remaining stretch of meadow before it met with the line of trees that led into a thicker forest. The light of the meadow stopped abruptly at that tree line, the thickness of the browns and greens of the trees absorbing the brightness of the sun. That darkness would be ideal for disappearing from the enemies that would take Agnes and Henri from this life, but for this one moment, Aramis still needed the light of the meadow that surrounded him before he headed into that darkness.
Blinking once more against the soft breeze, Aramis let the warmth of the daylight brush his skin as it bathed him in the purity of its rays. His journey was far from over, but this moment where time stood still was a renewal to his struggles and his mission. He knew God was guiding him now, and he had not taken on the protections of an innocent baby and his mother in what would almost seem as pure recklessness. He had done so with the Lord's guidance, and he was following the path that was required of him – not as a Musketeer – but as a human man.
In his heart, Aramis forbade himself to shirk on his duties as a man simply because the task before him was daunting and dangerous. Agnes and Henri had no one else to assist them in their plight, and he had been blessed with knowledge and abilities that were his to use in the goodness of mankind. And, now he had no further doubts about what he needed to do. He would protect these innocents, and if he died in the process, his conscience was clear. Aramis knew that God had recognized his selfless acts of purity to save a mother and her child, and he would not be banned to Hell for breaking the code of the Musketeers and disobeying direct orders.
Bringing his eyes to bear on the light of the world around him in which he stood, Aramis inhaled deeply the scents of the Earth. This meadow was far from any church, but it had been the sanctuary his soul needed. While his eyes may have seen the natural light of the earthen beauty around him, his soul had seen the light of the miracles that God would grant to those who believed. Agnes and Henri would have no better protector, and with his path lit to show them the way to a safe life, Aramis finally took a step forward so that he could complete the mission in his heart.