It had been a long journey, and the King had barely spoken to Aramis since they set out for Saint-Denis. There was a voice in the back of his mind that warned him to be cautious— one step out of line and Louis would have his head. Aramis did not want to be close to Louis right now. He did not know why he had been entrusted to come on this journey. There was a foreboding silence that had settled over the two of them. Aramis tugged at the cloak around him; he was grateful for the weight and warmth of it, and it was far less itchy than the robes he had worn while living his life of contemplation.

Perhaps that was why Louis had insisted that Aramis, and Aramis alone, be the one to accompany him on this pilgrimage. He understood that before his return, Aramis had planned to take on the mantle of a man of faith, leaving his past behind for the sake of the vow he had made to God himself. Nothing could have swayed him otherwise. He wanted to believe that Louis would forgive him, that the king trusted him to think of his duty to France before all else. That was exactly what he had done. His allegiance had been to God, king, and country over all else. Now that he was returned from the monastery, he had something to prove, and he would not rest until that proof was set in stone. He hated the way that the king was looking at him now. This was not the once great Louis that he had served but a man who was weak and could no longer politically stand on his own two feet. He was weak and pale, the color draining from his face whenever he spoke. They often had to pause because he had become so weak.

Aramis did not yet see the point of the voyage, nor the reason for the offerings the king made to each priest. He watched carefully while Louis pressed more coins into the hands of a man who was meant to answer to God and not to his own greed. Aramis bit his tongue and said nothing. A sense of unease and dread crept into Aramis' soul. Something about this felt final, as if Louis were trying to change an already decided fate. Aramis felt sorry for Louis in that moment. He was so desperate, so hurt and saddened by everything that life had given him. If only there were some way that Aramis could ease his pain. The only thing he knew to do was pray that the true reason they had come here would be revealed, and that the king would not take whatever pain he was feeling out on an innocent person. In the meantime, the king was drawing unneeded attention to himself by pouring money into the hands of the priests. A crowd had begun to follow them. They likely were desperate for some form of relief and thought Louis was helping those in need.

He hated the idea of going into the crypt with Louis, and yet, duty would not allow him to do anything else. So he waited at the entrance and kept silent as he watched Louis move like a phantom in the crypt, searching for some sort of absolution or penance. It was the one thing that Aramis could not provide him, the thing he longed for most. Louis looked to the world like a man who had lost everything. The truth was that Louis was looking for absolution, and there were very few people who could grant him that level of forgiveness.

The crypt was wide and open. The chilly atmosphere made Aramis grateful for the cloak he had pulled around himself before they had left. Trying not to let the man see how exhausted he was, Louis pressed a kiss to the stone crown on the tomb. Aramis hung back, saying nothing; this was not his place, he had only come because the King had not wanted to be alone. No man should have to go on such a pilgrimage on his own. Perhaps it was pity that made him so sympathetic to Louis' plight. That and he had noticed the poor man's cough. Whatever was going on, the king was quite ill. He had begun coughing heavily on their way to the crypt. Aramis stood in the doorway as Louis got up and approached him.

"There is something that I need from you, Aramis. Without it, I will not find peace. A truth I need to hear from your mouth; and don't lie. You and my wife may think I'm a fool, but I am not a fool. I know." Aramis was stoic, silent. He stared into the King's eyes, hating what he saw, a man wounded by betrayal and lies, a man who had been played for a buffoon.

"Say it."

"It will serve no purpose." Aramis' tone was sympathetic, yet low and warning. He knew what the king had been searching for now, and there was no way of avoiding the conversation that was meant to cause the two of them a deeper level of pain than they could have imagined. Aramis did not regret his actions; sleeping with Anne had been an expected moment of weakness, one that he could have seen no way to avoid. Shared trauma had brought him closer to a frightened and lonely woman who had no one else she could trust. There was no one who knew everything she had gone through, no one who understood how much it meant to her to have a child.

"You are a Musketeer, you only exist to serve my purpose. I am ordering you—."

"Why dredge up the past?" The more even Aramis' tone was, the more Louis became enraged. How dare this man tell him what he could and could not discuss? But getting upset with him would not do any good. That was what he had hoped for, to get some kind of explosive reaction. The weakened king drew in a sharp breath. It would take all his strength to get through this confrontation.

"Admit. . . Admit you slept with the Queen!"

"I slept with the loneliest woman in Paris."

"Don't you dare make excuses!"

"This woman suffered years of abuse and neglect on your part, she endured you parading Milady de Winter through the palace, shaming your own wife, humiliating her . . ." Aramis attempted to remain calm through the King's rage.

"You swore to protect me. . ."

"I am protecting you!" The words flew from Aramis' lips before he could stop them, spoken in an ire so untamed that it could have given the king a mortal wound if words were swords. He caught himself, breathed sharply and tried to calm down. This would not help his case. "I am . . . protecting you.", he repeated, attempting to sound calmer, but the damage had been done.

"No longer. No, what you have done is treason, and for that, you will hang." Aramis sucked in a desperate gasp. Could the King really be so petulant as to kill him for this when it was done and there was no way to take the action back?

Despite the threat that could have ended his life, Aramis remained loyal and executed his duties in the best way he knew how. The conversation placed him on edge, but that allowed him to channel his anger into focus. Louis was still his king and was still owed his loyalty until the day he died. His adrenaline kicked in when they heard the shot echo outside. Someone had followed them. Regardless of the King's intention to hang him or spare him, he was a Musketeer who had a duty to fulfill. Readying his guns, he passed one to Louis. Today, the King would be prepared to fight for himself. If he was to face his death, he would do it with honor. That was what made him a Musketeer. Honor, loyalty and bravery were his code. Even if the King hated him for sleeping with Ana, he still had a duty to be discharged. They had been too late to save Feron, but at least, now the King had an understanding of what it meant to defend himself and people who counted on him.

The lessons stuck with the king, who granted Aramis a pardon on the condition that he would not come close to the Queen or the Dauphin again. What Louis did not understand was that Aramis would never give up. It would be Aramis who protected the Queen and his child for the rest of their days. Whatever penance he would pay was worth the right to ensure that his love and child were safe. That was exactly what Aramis meant to do. France would have its noble queen and future king, and he would be their most ardent protector for the rest of his days.