Sometimes, Porthos wondered if Aramis regretted saying no to Agnes.
Aramis had been quiet lately. Whilst he had not been actively avoidant, his smiles were fewer than normal and his eyes often gazed wistfully at nothing. It was almost reminiscent of how he had acted after he had killed Marsac but with less grief and more longing. Porthos had seen the way Aramis had held the child, Henry. How despite his best efforts he had become attached to the baby and to his mother. However, Porthos had a feeling it wasn't them in particular that Aramis had desired, it was merely the idea of having a wife and child of his own. Sometimes, Porthos wondered if Aramis regretted saying no to Agnes. Whether he regretted saying no to a life that would have mended his fragile heart and calmed his womanizing ways. It was a thought that hurt and one night when the wine was flowing freely the curiosity became too much to contain.
"Hey, Aramis?"
Aramis turned his attention to Porthos, setting down his cup on the table. They had a hard day of training and were rewarding themselves with the pleasure of drinking. It was how they rewarded themselves most nights, but it never became less enjoyable. Athos and d'Artagnan had headed home early and so it was just the two of them, perfect for the topic he was about to bring up.
"What is it, my friend?" Aramis asked, leaning casually against the table, a content and languid smile on his face.
"Do you ever wish you had taken Agnes up on her offer?"
Aramis' brow crinkled in confusion and the corners of his lips curved. "What offer? The one to join her and Henry?"
Porthos nodded. "Yeah, that one. I've noticed that you've been acting different since then. I was wondering if that had something to do with it."
Aramis pressed his lips together and released a long breath. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully before he spoke. "I don't regret saying no," he finally said. A clamp that Porthos had not known was around his heart eased at the words, but he saved his relief until Aramis finished what he was going to say. "But I do wonder. I was going to have a son you know."
Porthos had not known. Aramis never said much about the life before the Musketeers, and Porthos had never pried. It was an unspoken rule between the Musketeers that a man's reason for joining, different they were for everyone, were his own and his alone to share.
"What happened?" Even though the answer was fairly obvious, Porthos didn't want to assume, and he wanted to hear the explanation from Aramis himself.
"She lost the child, and her father sent her away. He wouldn't tell me where she went, and so I joined the Musketeers. At the time I felt it was as if God was telling me I was not meant to be a father and so I joined the profession where being a father and a husband was a disadvantage."
"But you still want to be them." Porthos said. It wasn't so much a question as a statement of understanding.
"I will admit the idea is nice," Aramis said with a small smile, "but at the same time I have found a calling in being a Musketeer. I have no doubt that if I had gone with Agnes, I would have stayed, but I would have missed the thrill of the fight, the adrenaline as we help King and country. Most of all I would have missed you, Athos and d'Artagnan. Regardless, as I said then, someone needs to patch up you lot when you get hurt. Without me you would all be dead within the week," he finished with a smirk as he drank the last of his wine.
Porthos laughed, and the last remaining bits of anxiety within him dissipated. Maybe one day Aramis would decide otherwise and finally choose to settle down with a nice woman and start a family, perhaps they all would, but for now he was staying and Porthos couldn't be happier.