Chapter XXI

Porthos watched as the Queen attempted to sit calmly at the table around which they had gathered. Milady was sleeping in the infirmary, Marguerite had reluctantly come with them because she was involved no matter how much she did not want to be. D'Artagnan was standing behind Constance's chair, hands on her shoulders. Aramis was pacing restlessly. Everybody was looking at Porthos.

"We're not Musketeers anymore." It was the least upsetting news for the Queen, even though it had rocked his own world.

"What?"

"They've closed the Garrison after Rochefort shared his suspicion with the King. I don't know where the others are. Perhaps she knows, we'll have to ask her when she wakes up."

"What does the King know exactly?"

"He seemed to be aware of quite a lot, unfortunately. There are warrants for all of us, you included Constance. You're accused of having abducted the Dauphin."

d'Artagnan felt her shoulders tense in the same fashion that his did. The young Musketeer did not care if his life was in danger, it had been many times in the past. The woman he loved was innocent, though.

"What type of warrant?"

"You're to be arrested if found. I don't know for us. I suppose arrest warrants and probably death ones. Aramis's accused of high treason."

The Queen shuddered at the news. Rochefort must have told her husband everything, and everything had been believed. It was beyond understanding. How could Louis trust his First Minister more than his own wife? They had been married for years, they had spent countless moments together. She thought they had grown close, even if they were not in love.

Aramis bore the accusation in silence. It was to be expected. He briefly glanced at the Queen, sitting at the head of the table, distressed and shocked.

"I will have to go back to Paris with the Dauphin, then. The King will see that we are well and the accusations will be forgotten." Her voice shook despite her resolution. Returning to the capital city was the right course of action to attempt to save as many people as she could. It terrified her. She would be judged, she would be shamed.

"With all due respect, you cannot," Porthos said, preventing Aramis from objecting her decision.

"Why couldn't I? I'm the Queen, if I stand against Rochefort, the King will have to at least listen to me."

"His Majesty seemed to completely trust him. He's even convinced that the Dauphin is not his son. You're...You cannot go back to Paris."

It was difficult, so difficult. Explaining that his best friend was to be executed if arrested was one thing. Aramis had been aware of what consequence his actions would bring. Telling the Queen that her husband had totally shunned her was another. How could he say it? The room was eerily silent as everybody was waiting for him to continue.

"The King's repudiated you. You're not Queen anymore."

The words echoed around her. They rang in her ears. Her heart stopped beating for a few seconds. Her vision turned brightly white then dark. Her entire life appeared in front of her eyes, flashes of memories, flashes of a life that was no longer hers. Her hands gripped the material of her dress, desperately looking for something to hang on to.

He had to be mistaken. He must have misheard something. It must only be a silly rumour. All of a sudden, she was sobered from the haze in which Aramis had left her. Her whole existence could not come crumbling down. Her husband could not do this. He could not give her up so quickly, so easily. He could not forget everything they had gone through together. She felt dizzy.

Things crashed to the floor, plates and glasses as Aramis unleashed his anger on the furniture. She started. Everybody was looking at her. Marguerite was sobbing, both hands on her face, her sprained wrist forgotten. Porthos looked ashamed as if he had been the one taking the decision. Athos sounded like the voice of reason.

"The decision will be reversed, your Majesty. I have Rochefort's seal and if we make contact with Vargas as we have planned, he will be exposed. Any edict signed under his influence will be overruled."

"Exactly. I'll go."

"I'll come with you," d'Artagnan offered Aramis before Athos disagreed.

"It might be better if only one person goes. Less suspicious."

"Just me then. You have to take care of Constance," Aramis added as his friend was about to protest. She thanked him silently. He went to stand by the window to gather his thoughts and try to calm down. His entire body was trembling with fury. The soldier wanted to hurt Rochefort as much as he had hurt the women. If it led to his death, then it would only be a happy collateral damage.

"How do you suggest we find him?"

"I've stolen some letters from Rochefort's office. We only have to counterfeit his writing and Vargas will not suspect a thing."

"Can you forge a letter?"

"Can you?"

"Not with these hands." Aramis showed him his raw knuckles. They still hurt a lot especially as he was not taking very good care of them.

"We'll each have to try, then. Besides, the nuns must copy the Holy Scriptures. They may be able to help."

"And where do you suppose we will find Vargas?" Tréville asked. He had been too shocked by the news that the Musketeer regiment had been entirely dismissed to speak. Even though he was not their Captain anymore, he worried about his men. None of this was their fault so they should not have had to lose their commission. It was unfair.

"It is highly probable that Rochefort might have informed him of how unruly the royal household was at the moment. I doubt he will be far away from the border. Aramis can charm his way anywhere. He'll have no trouble finding him."

"No."

The Queen finally spoke up. Their conversation was fast and determined and it had taken her some time to find the vigor to say what she wanted. Everybody turned toward her at the simple word. She did her best to stand up without trembling. Her legs buckled so she braced herself on the table, her eyes sweeping each of her companions, each of the persons her decisions had endangered, each of the persons who had been hurt because of her.

"Your Majesty...Athos' plan could quite work."

"I assure you, Captain Tréville is correct. It is the only way for you to return to Paris safely."

"I said no. You've been fighting for me for so long. Look at how many of you have been injured doing so. Constance, Marguerite, even Lady de Winter."

"It's our duty, your Majesty."

"I know, Athos, and I will forever be grateful for your devotion. But it appears that it is no longer required."

"Of course it is! What are you trying to say?" Aramis turned around sharply, his eyes burning as they settled on her frail figure. Even from behind, he could notice how her head was held less straight than usual. The blow of the terrible news about her status had made her shoulders slump a little.

"I refuse to have more people suffer and put their lives in danger because of me."

"Do we have another choice? Rochefort has to be destroyed or else..." The threat could not be spoken out loud. He could not understand what she was doing, declining the help they were so ready to provide. It might feel good to know she was worrying about them, about him, but it was their duty as Musk...,as soldiers.

"I'm tired."

"It's a lot to take in, I am aware. You should go rest."

"No, Aramis. I am tired of all of this." Her eyes closed in order to trap the tears behind her eyelids. "I'm tired of lying, tired of wondering what everybody will think of my every action. I'm tired of everything."

"What...Ana?"

"I'm tired of being the Queen." She laughed as she realized this wish had at least been granted. With every word she whispered, the Spanish flowing in the room, her heart felt both lighter and heavier. Lighter because one more secret was revealed, and heavier because it meant that the future was more unknown than ever.

There was a hand on her arm and he moved her body effortlessly so she could face him. None of the others reacted to the gesture. The only sounds she could hear were Marguerite's quiet sobbing and her own heavy breathing.

"You cannot say this."

"Yes, I can. I just did."

She opened her eyes to gaze into his dark ones. He was astonished at the revelation, his hands clutching her arms so strongly he had to remind himself he could not hurt her. Loosening his grip, his hands traveled up to her shoulders, settling there and shaking her a little.

"You are distressed. It will pass."

"No, it won't. It was merely a dream a few hours ago, was it not?"

His memory returned to the conversation they had had in her room, while she was playing with his golden chain and he was rubbing her naked back. She had been glowing with happiness and she had confessed the life she sometimes wished she could have.

A life like Constance used to have, albeit without the unloving husband. A life where she could be free to do whatever she wanted, to dress however she wanted, to speak whenever she desired it. A life where she would not have the entire country looking at her. A life where the problems of the kingdom would not be put on her shoulders whenever the weight was too much to bear for the King. A life where she could be free to love whoever she wanted, much like Aramis was doing.

It had sounded like a beautiful utopia to him. The Queen of France, Anne of Austria, born and bred a princess, wed to a French heir to bind two countries. A political alliance. No love, no affection, only duty and stiffness. He could understand why she would entertain such thoughts especially after laying with a soldier, an act she should have never even considered.

Aramis could understand the desire for freedom. He wished he could be free to love her publicly. He wished what they had done was not treason. He wished the Dauphin could officially be his son. Yet, he knew he was bound to always desire the things he could not have. Despite everything that Queen Anne wanted, she had a privileged life, one she appeared to cherish. She was the embodiment of duty, of benevolence, of mercy.

He had let her go on with her fantasy, painting a life where there were no balls, no heavy gowns, no complicated hair styles. Only cotton dresses, walks in the countryside and evenings by the fireplace. A life where people would not bow or think about their every word to attempt to gain some favour from her. A life where people would call her "Anne."

"I don't understand."

"I think you do."

"You cannot..."

"Don't you love me?" He sighed. He should have never said it. It was no secret but actually saying these exact words seemed to have trigger some changes in her Majesty, and he was not supposed to rejoice so much at them.

"You know I do. But I will not be responsible for this. You would never be safe again. Think about the Dauphin."

"I can only assume that's not his title anymore either."

Aramis raised both eyebrows. He had to be dreaming. Very soon, he would wake up in the Queen's room, Porthos and Milady would not have returned yet, and none of this would have taken place. His heart only demanded for him to access to her unspoken desired. His mind was shouting at him to keep convincing her otherwise. What she wanted was not a life somebody could desire.

"Think of your son."

"He's yours as well."

Aramis let go of her to groan, a hand tucking at his hair.

She felt empty without him close. They had been so intimate in the past hours that she craved his presence more with every passing minute. Her affection had been revealed when she had said she loved him, and now that the words were out, it was the only thing that mattered, because it would be impossible to go back to being oblivious.

"No."

"No?"

"He's...he's your son. He's a prince. He's..."

"Will you stop talking nonsense?" She was so annoyed at his stubbornness that the French had taken over to chastise him. All the others looked surprised. Constance had stood up and was safely in d'Artagnan's arms. Athos was pondering whether he should make Aramis snap out of it. His friend was not having a conversation with a monarch but with a lover, and it was highly inappropriate. Especially with an audience.

"Is it talking nonsense to try to protect you?"

"When you say such foolish things, yes it is!"

"That's because they're true!"

"Is that so? Then please send a letter to the Pope as well, because I think we've found the new Virgin Mary!"

Her words left him speechless. Porthos had no idea what they were talking about, but he had to laugh at the Queen's jest. Who knew she could make jokes? It did not relieve the tension.

"You know what I mean...," Aramis managed to say when he had recovered. He had hardly ever seen her so angry. And never at him.

"No, I don't! I was under the assumption you wanted this! You wanted him. Have you been lying?" She gestured angrily, her attitude so unlike what he was used to, her tone so provoking that he did not know what to make of it. The Queen was so shaken by Porthos' tale that it did not matter whether she was behaving in a fashion improper for her station.

"No, I haven't. And look at what it's brought down on you. I will do everything in my power to right your life."

"What if I do not wish for you to right it this way?"

"I will not allow it, then. Because you are the one talking nonsense now."

The conversation had taken an unexpected turn, and she was not the only one the last hours had troubled. His mind could not fully comprehend that he was not talking to the simple young girl he had loved in the small room. They were not alone here, his friends were glaring at him, even though he did his best to ignore them. He was taking too much liberty.

Then something nobody expected happened. The Queen seemed to have regained all her regal countenance. She took a few short steps toward the soldier who was confronting her, looked him straight in the eye, and slapped him.

Constance gasped, Porthos stood up, ready to secure Aramis if he reacted badly. Marguerite was crying harder, Athos only shook his head and Tréville glared at his soldier.

Aramis simply stood still, waiting for more. He was defying her so openly that he deserved the slap. It was surprising coming from her who was usually so composed. She looked more shocked than anybody body else. She turned around and left the room swiftly, never letting time for the others to show their respect.

"What was all of this about?" Tréville's booming voice broke the awkward silence. Aramis was rubbing his cheek. Constance wondered if she should go after her Majesty. One nod from him told her to do so. D'Artagnan let her go reluctantly.

"She does not want us to try and find Vargas."

"I think we understood that much. Why?"

"It appears that...she's grown tired of being the Queen."

"She cannot be serious!" d'Artagnan exclaimed.

"That's what I've been trying to tell her." And it was breaking his heart to do so. What she wished for was a thought he would like to entertain himself. It would not do. It would be too dangerous. He was considered a traitor, perhaps she was as well. They had to find the Spanish spymaster and erase all of Rochefort's wrong doings.

"I wonder what prompted such a change of heart," Athos muttered, staring so hard at his friend that Aramis winced. "Why don't you tell them what you've been up to tonight?"

"Weren't you sleeping?" Tréville shouted, his appearance much like the one of a scolding father.

"If he was, he certainly wasn't by himself."

"How dare you? You may well say whatever you want about me, but you cannot make such assumptions about her!"

"Oh, I apologize. Am I wrong then?" Athos asked sarcastically. He was so done with Aramis' troubled life and inability to make the good decisions when they had to be made. The other's silence was enough of an answer.

"Are you..." Porthos yelled, striding toward his best friend, shaking him roughly. "I could have died a dozen times today. I could have died to protect you and this is how you thank me?"

He could not believe Aramis was so stupid. What was the point of risking their lives if he did not stop seeking the Queen? Was it the reason why she did not want them to look for Vargas? Because she was too dazzled to think straight as well? Porthos felt so much hatred at the other soldier that it had to unleash in some way.

Aramis' head reeled back under Porthos' fist. He was stunned, blood dripping from his nose. He did not cower to avoid the second blow. It was Athos who ended it.

"Enough, Porthos."

He was seething as he let his arm fall back. Aramis did not wipe the blood. He was ashamed of what he had just realized.

"I'm sorry, Porthos. I truly am. I'll leave as soon as the letter is forged. I will find Vargas. I will bring him back so you may take him to the King and you will never see me again."

"Don't be ridiculous. We will all return to Paris and I'll make sure the others keep you on a leash so you may never come close to the Queen ever again."

Tréville sounded so serious that Porthos actually managed to smirk. Aramis only looked more hopeless.

"Whatever happens here will stay here and you will spend so much time in the stables you will grow to love it."

This time it was d'Artagnan who chuckled.

"Speaking of here...I am not entirely certain of it, but remaining in the convent for too long could prove dangerous."

"Is it official? About the Queen?"

"The first Red Guard we talked to yesterday mentioned that it was all a secret but now, I am not so sure."

"We'll be more vigilant tonight and we will discus another refuge tomorrow," Tréville decided. From what had transpired with the Queen, he already knew she would not be pleased, but there had been too many strong emotions for now. It was better to let her rest and settle her mind before attempting to make more decisions.

"I'll go and keep watch."

"I'll come with you."

Aramis did not look behind as he heard d'Artagnan follow him. He was aware that he would never have a moment by himself now as long as he was in the convent. Somehow, he was grateful for it. He needed protection from his own wretched heart.