Chapter XIV
Aramis clutched his crucifix in his hand, reciting prayers in his head to keep from dozing off. Athos had gone inside the convent to sleep an hour or so earlier. The countryside was so silent, the only sounds being the wind blowing in the trees and an owl once in a while. His entire body was numb so he was pacing in front of the entrance gate, hat on his head, cape held tight against his chest.
Spring was not supposed to be such a cold season. He usually enjoyed it very much, the blossoming flowers, nature waking up, and warming sun. The nights were always chilly, though. He would give anything to be able to light a fire. Perhaps he could. After all, it was no secret that nuns lived in the convent. He would not be giving their position away since it was well-known.
He was pondering this solution when he heard footsteps behind him. Finally.
"At last. I hope Constance made it worth your while to keep me waiting in the cold. I'm freezing my arse off. "
"I am deeply sorry to hear that."
Aramis froze on the spot, but not because of the cold this time.
"Your Majesty! I apologize for such horrendous language!"
"I will assume you were expecting d'Artagnan and forgive you."
The Musketeer sighed, his shoulders slumping. He turned around when she stopped walking. There was the glow of the lamp hanging by the entrance of the building in her back. She was not wearing her imposing dress. Instead, she had donned a simple white shirt. He knew it was part of the nuns' clothing. She would have almost looked like a simple commoner if she had not been wearing her blue coat to stay warm.
"You've been entirely too forgiving with me today, your Majesty. I don't deserve it."
"I will be the judge of this. Still, it may have been...unwise to raise your voice, it is true."
"I'd say foolish is a better word."
"Perhaps," she concurred with a small smile. Her hair was down and blowing in her face. She reached over to pull the hood on her head, her eyes never leaving his face. "I can understand why you did it, though. And I absolutely do not think ill of you for your reasons. It only...surprised me."
"It should not have happened. I forgot myself. However, you were about to make a mistake so..."
"Queens do not make mistakes, Aramis."
"With respect, I disagree."
The Queen laughed softly, raising an eyebrow. The gesture made him smile as well. He was doing it again. He was forgetting their respective positions and allowing himself a greater liberty than was proper.
"I apologize. Sometimes, I let my heart rule my mind. It is never a good thing."
"On the contrary, I find it quite refreshing. I wish I were allowed to do the same."
"It's dangerous, trust me. Look around us. We would not be here if I could be more responsible."
He sounded so distressed and it unsettled her so much that she moved forward, reaching out for his hand. But Aramis took a step backward, seeking the shadows, putting distance between them. It broke his heart to do so, especially as he saw how hurt she was.
"It's cold outside. You should go back inside, your Majesty."
"I seem unable to find sleep, unlike everybody else. Even my son is sleeping peacefully now, God bless him. Some company would be greatly appreciated. My mind keeps going back to Paris and the King."
A shiver ran down her spine whether from fear or cold, she could not tell. She wrapped her arms around her waist, gathering her warm coat around herself.
"What will happen, Aramis? What will happen if Porthos brings terrible news?"
"Nothing because this is not how events are going to develop. They will be back with excellent news about his Majesty's health. Then we'll move on to exposing Rochefort and the past days will only be a bad memory."
Queen Anne wished he could be correct. The Musketeer always knew what words to say to bring comfort and put her heart at ease. There were so few occasions for them to speak freely, without an audience and every time, he had made her feel better. If only he could be by her side all day long. It was wrong to entertain this thought, yet it had been her companion ever since his outburst in the afternoon. Her only desire at this very moment was to have him realize he need not withdraw from her.
She was being foolish. She was behaving like a young girl, and not like the Queen of France. She had responsibilities, duties, and no matter how much she wished she could discard them to listen to her heart, it was not meant to happen for her. Never. She was born for duty, not freedom. How she envied Constance.
"What if you're wrong?"
"Then we will avenge the King as any loyal Musketeers would do."
Aramis saw the Queen nod softly, taking in his words. It was difficult to keep his hands to his sides. It had been torture to reject her touch. His heart bled for it, but it was the right choice. If he kept on clutching the crucifix in the palm of his hand, perhaps it could distract him from her presence. He resumed his prayers to drown the fact that she was standing so close and that he could not do anything about it.
"Aramis?" He gave a start at her hand on his arm. What a guard he made. His mind was conflicted to the point that his hearing was totally ineffective. He should have heard her walk closer. The crucifix fell to the ground. The Queen bent down to retrieve it. Was it really Rochefort who gave it to her all these years ago? She could not remember it. It had become such a feature of Aramis' apparel that it warmed her heart every time she noticed it at Court.
"I did not mean to frighten you." Her words were soft and her fingers even more so when she pressed the necklace in his hand.
"It is quite fine. I was distracted. My apologies."
"I would hardly call praying a distraction. You were praying out loud," she explained, glancing up at him. It had lasted about five minutes and she had not said anything because she thought he was doing it on purpose. She must have been wrong since he looked surprised.
"You were praying in Spanish," the Queen added. It was the main reason why she had decided to interrupt him. "Our conversation in the infirmary was not pleasant, nevertheless I enjoyed speaking Spanish. It has been years since it was last possible. Will you speak Spanish with me, Aramis?"
"If your Majesty so commands."
"I do not command you. I'm asking you."
"Then I suppose you already have your answer."
He was rewarded with a chuckle. A cloud moved in the sky, enabling him to catch a glimpse of her face. She looked genuinely happy. Her life was being turned upside down so he would do whatever was in his power to ease her pain.
The words felt strange on her tongue. She had been shunned from her native language for so long that her voice almost sounded foreign. His on the contrary...It was warm. It was home.
"It would be exquisite to be able to speak whatever language I wished whenever I wished for it."
"After everything goes back to normal, the King will certainly grant it to you."
"I'll pray that you are right." It was a lie; it would never happen. Louis had never allowed it, and it would not change. If all was well in Paris, which she strongly doubted, he would return to complaining and making her life miserable. She was used to it, she would survive. At least she would be alive.
"I fear I might never see the King again."
The confession felt as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. The thought had been gnawing at her heart ever since she had been told that her husband had been poisoned. At first, it had seemed ridiculous and the simple product of her terror upon knowing what Rochefort had done. But it had not lessened throughout the day. It had prevented her from resting. Her mind kept churning with ideas of a regal and royal sanctuary crumbling down around her because the King of France was no more, or that she had irrevocably lost his trust. She had fled, the Dauphin was with her: the entire situation screamed treason of the highest sort. It was not her intention, it had never been so. People would not believe it. They would be too pleased to find faults in her. They hated her; they hated her Spanish origins.
What would become of them, then? Her son was so small, and she had no skills whatsoever. She could not even cook decent food. She could read and write, and appear poised and dignified. It would not carry her far in the world.
"Now, you are only talking nonsense, your Majesty."
"Please, don't say it. Don't call me this way."
Aramis was starting to panic. Sometimes it felt as if they could retain their expected stations, and then there would be words shattering this false hope. Every word they were uttering now was bringing them closer to their doom. It felt as if he was drawn to her, as he had always been the past years. It was late, and despite resting, and being used to uncomfortable situations, there was too much trouble to deal with to behave as the soldier he prided himself to be.
What was a greater source of panic was that he did not mind it. It was wrong, terribly wrong to be glad she had come out to him, even though she did not know it would be him. The Queen had been looking for company and anyone, from Athos to Marguerite, would have welcomed her presence. One could not say no to a distraught monarch. It was just his wretched luck that he was forcing himself to guard the convent more than his friends. It had started as a way to atone to God, but it was turning into quite the opposite.
His treacherous heart rejoiced at being so close to her, without witnesses. And now she was plainly stating that there was no need for protocol between the two of them. Aramis could not give in to this demand. It might lead to more awkward situations, and it was not his intention to act more like a caring lover than a dutiful soldier ever again. How he wanted to, though. The next sentence burnt in his mouth.
"I cannot. I have to or I dread the consequences."
"I would not mind them."
"You should not speak like this, your Majesty."
She exhaled a frustrated sigh at his stubbornness.
"Tell me. Do you regret it?"
Aramis could hear Porthos urging him to deny everything had ever happened between him and the Queen. It started by believing it himself. How could he do it? How could he break her heart when she had plainly confessed that she did not regret a single thing? How could he make the right choice when it was such an abomination?
"Never. But I...I lost someone extremely precious to me the last time we were here."
"I remember."
"I refuse to lose someone else this time. I refuse to take actions which would endanger you or your son further."
"You think more of others than yourself. You and I have this in common. My life does not belong to me, either. It only did so once. Because of you...thanks to you."
His entire resolve dissolved when she stopped talking. Hearing her say it in their mother tongue was proof enough that she was sincere, if he still doubted it. She was stepping over every single one of the barriers he had erected to protect them from themselves. Nothing could protect him of her feelings.
Her fingers were holding on to his leather coat, holding on for dear life. The Queen imagined that if she let go, she would lose herself. The memory of gazing into his dark eyes anchored her down.
Their mouths touched in silence, none of them moving for a few seconds. Then one hand tentatively grazed his cheek, fingers curling around a lock of hair, and Aramis was gone. It was overwhelming: the tension, the euphoria. Everything poured out of him at once. The Musketeer dropped the crucifix, his arms shooting around her body. His lips muffled her cry of surprise until she relaxed, only to press closer.
A shudder shook her as she felt the warmth of his hands on her back, moving under her coat to rest on her simple clothing. Her heart appreciated the tenderness of his touch. Even though the kiss was frantic and certainly desperate, his actions were painfully slow.
Hands flat on his chest, grabbing leather as she tiptoed. The Musketeer was much taller than she was. Then she twined her hands around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer. Aramis smiled, his beard scrapping her face. It was his turn to shudder as her fingernails glided against his skin. These were sensations he had been dreaming of for months. He groaned awfully loud.
This sound was echoed from the Queen after he had pushed the hood from her head to tangle his fingers in her fair hair. It felt amazing to abandon herself to his care, because she knew he would never let her down, not even as she stumbled against him in her haste. The sound of his laughter broke the silence.
"Perhaps one day we will have the chance to do this when my life is not in danger."
If only. The soldier kissed her mouth sweetly, and for a moment all his worries had disappeared. The woman in his arms was all that mattered. Of course, she had been the only person who mattered to him for a long time, but more so now. They would never have more than precious stolen minutes.
"This is wrong."
"Then why does it feel so right? Dare say it does not feel right," she challenged. Where was the point in denying it? He secured a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Feeling right does not mean it will bring you happiness in the end."
"It does tonight. Would you deny me some joy after everything I have been enduring? Can't you grant yourself some joy, Aramis?"
It saddened her that his smile did not reach his eyes. He did not draw back when she kissed him again. For once, she was the one offering comfort to a man she cherished more than was acceptable. Never in her life had she had to instigate this kind of comfort. What she shared with the King was a completely different arrangement meant only to provide heirs for the kingdom. There was no love there, no passion, only duty and responsibility.
It was different with Aramis. It was better. It made her feel alive, completely and utterly alive. It kindled a fire in her soul, warming her body up from the inside out. Her fingers tingled. She truly felt as a young girl. Her cold fingers were resting against Aramis' heart and she could feel it pulse in his chest. Both of his hands grabbed her arms, the pressure rougher than anything she had been used to. It was pleasing, and the thought made her tremble.
"Don't," she whispered as he made to draw away.
"I don't want to..."
"Don't force me to command you."
"I thought you only asked tonight." His chuckle rumbled against her lips, making her smile and shake her head. She realized they had slipped back into French, although their banter was proof that they could be less rigid in this language as well, if they allowed themselves. Queen Anne was bantering with a Musketeer. She was enjoying herself and kissing a man who was not her husband while the country faced dire hours. She could not find it in her heart to be ashamed.