He told himself he wasn't surprised by her summons. He had expected a request for him to attend her for several weeks now. He had known she would send for him when Aramis did not come with them to their last meeting with the King. What he had not anticipated upon his entering the Queen's private sitting room was that he would be greeted with a curtly phrased question - demand was more like it.

"Where is he?"

Athos had never once suspected the Queen of being able to speak in anything other than a quiet and refined manner. He had never seen her be anything other than poised, calm, and collected. Even when they had traveled to the convent she somehow managed to maintain that level of polish and sophistication required in one who was Queen. However, the woman standing before him now was not the Queen of France. She wasn't even a princess of Spain at that moment. No, what she was, was a deeply sad and lonely woman pining for the love and friendship she had found and enjoyed for an all too brief moment in time.

Were Athos not aware of those tender feelings, the kind that went well beyond the sort that a Queen should have for a man who was nothing more than a lowly Musketeer, had he not witnessed the result of those feelings finally being allowed to run free with his own eyes, he might have found himself a bit taken aback by the Queen's unusually abrupt tone. He did know about those things, though. He, as well as Porthos and D'Artagnan, had been there to witness all the moments that came before that fateful night spent in that chapel over a year and a half ago.

He knew that it was right after Aramis saved her life at the prison that things changed between them. Suddenly, what had been the gratitude of a Queen became something much more personal. Porthos even advised Aramis to not allow himself to become attached to the Queen because of the trouble it would cause. Aramis just couldn't help himself. No more than he, Athos, had been able to help himself when it came to how he felt about Milady. Everything that happened between the two had been innocuous enough. At first.

The glances they stole at each other could be interpreted as them just reassuring the other was where they were supposed to have been. Small comments or jests were overlooked because of how innocent they sounded. Slight touches to a hand or arm did not appear out of the ordinary because of the way they happened. None of those things by themselves raised any flags of suspicion. Yet all of it led up to the events that transpired inside that bedroom in the convent. He knew about the Dauphin being Aramis' son. Same as he knew what the consequences would be should their love for each other ever again override good sense and duty. It would not only be her life that would be at stake should that happen. It would also be Aramis'. A fact he decided the irate Queen needed a gentle reminder about.

"M'lady..." he began but the Queen cut him off with a slash of her hand.

"Where?"

Had there just been anger in her voice he would have responded in kind. He also heard her worry and concern. And took pity upon her for it.

"He has gone away."

"Gone away, where?" Athos had never wanted a drink more than at that very moment. Being sent on a suicide mission would be far preferable to dealing with this mess Aramis created. "Where is he, Athos?" There was a slight break in the Queen's voice. Her face, however, remained composed; regal even in the wake of all that had happened in the past few months. "I order you to tell me where he is!"

Athos ran a weary hand over his face. No, he wasn't surprised she sent for him. He was now the Captain of the Musketeers following Treville finally taking his place at court. However, he found himself wondering why she hadn't confronted Porthos. He was much closer to Aramis than he was. Even Constance could have easily told her about Aramis' decision to devote his life to the church. Instead, it fell to him to do. And he was absolute rubbish when it came to things like diplomacy.

"Aramis has chosen the quiet life of a monk," he finally told her with a sigh. "He has given up being a Musketeer."

He did not add, at the worst possible time. War with Spain loomed and there was civil unrest in the streets. They would find a way to maintain order. It would just be easier if we had Aramis among our numbers.

"Given up..." Queen Anne's face lost what little color it had. She set a hand that noticeably trembled upon the back of a chair. "He's given up being a Musketeer?"

"Aramis has joined a monastery." He kept his tone soft but firm. "He has chosen to dedicate his life to serving the world and the church."

"But-"

"It is for the best, m'lady."

It was as gentle a reminder as he could give. Anything more increased the possibility of someone finding out about their love affair. There was no knowing who remained of Rochefort's allies and accomplices. Any number of those at court could well be spies or traitors. They all had to tread carefully. He saw by the slight widening of her eyes that she understood, and while it saddened her, she accepted the truth for what it was: a necessity.

"Of course, it is for the best," she agreed with a slight nod. "Thank you for telling me about where he is."

Athos heard the dismissal in her undertone as his cue to take his leave. He bowed to her before turning on one heel and making his way from the room.

A/N: Hello, all and welcome! Let's get the legal out of the way and say that nothing here but for the concept of this piece belongs to me. I promise to return the characters in like new condition once I am done playing with them.

This piece is set between the off-screen time between the finale of season 2 and the opening of season 3. This idea was inspired by a writing prompt I found on Google. Hopefully, you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!