We are both afraid, but we must not show it
Aramis had joined the others at the table after leaving Porthos, but soon after finishing his milk and the biscuits he had been given, Louis slumped over asleep onto d'Artagnan's lap, and as Aramis stood up to allow d'Artagnan to carry him upstairs to a bed, Athos asked for their help moving furniture and doing some small repairs while they still had the light.
About an hour later, Louis woke up from his nap, and they all went downstairs to take a break and see what the others were up to.
Sylvie, Constance, and Brujon were all busy preparing supper. Aramis looked around. "Have Porthos and the Queen not come back in yet?"
They answered no and he went to look out the front window. Could they still be talking? His eyes scanned the area, but he didn't see them. He stepped outside the cottage and listened for voices, but could hear none. He set off towards the lean-to. Perhaps they were just behind it, talking quietly.
A feeling of dread began to seep into his bones as he prepared to round the corner. Except for the sound of his own breathing, the silence continued, and once he reached the back of the lean-to and saw the area empty, he banged the side of his fist against the structure.
Athos jogged up behind him. "I checked behind the house. Nothing. And all the horses are still here."
"Is there anywhere else they could have gone?" Aramis asked.
Athos shook his head. "Not on the property, no. This is where you saw them last?"
Aramis nodded as he ran a hand through his hair. "Porthos went off this way, she followed." Looking past Athos, a glint caught his eye in the grass ahead, and he went to get a closer look. Kneeling down, he brushed the grass away from the golden object, and his heart dropped into his stomach when he realized what it was.
"What is it?" Athos asked as he came up next to him.
Aramis continued to stare down at Anne's ring, the square one with the diamond encrusted stars and crescent moons inlaid in gold. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Athos walk ahead to the edge of the forest.
"There are some broken branches, possibly Porthos' doing..." he went past the tree line, and continued to look around. He crouched down near the base of a tree further in and sniffed something before straightening. "But I doubt he would go off and relieve himself in the presence of the Queen." He met Aramis' eyes. "Someone was waiting here."
Launching himself off the ground, Aramis started running towards the woods.
Athos jumped in front of him and wrapped his arms tightly around his shoulders. "Aramis, no!"
He grunted as he tried to break free of Athos' hold. "Get off me! They're getting away!"
"Aramis, you can't just run after them!"
Aramis stopped struggling enough to look him in the eye. "They have our brother and my pregnant wife!"
"And we have to be smart about this! The King is here and you can't go on your own, nor can we track them in the dark," Athos hastily explained, stepping back but keeping his hands on Aramis' shoulders. "Give us some time to prepare and then you and I will start looking for them at first light. And if it's a ransom they're after, they might've left a note or will deliver one before then. Please, Aramis, wait."
Reluctantly, Aramis nodded, and Athos slowly let his hands drop. Once free of Athos' hold, Aramis kicked the neared tree in frustration. Athos was right of course, but that didn't immediately stop the voice in his head that was screaming to run after them.
"Porthos will keep the Queen safe," Athos assured him.
Leaning against the tree, he banged his forehead against the trunk to try and clear the images of Anne in danger that were flashing before his eyes. He had to find comfort in Porthos being with her. He might be angry with them both, but Porthos was Porthos, and he would do whatever necessary to protect her.
Taking a deep breath, he straightened up and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. "What am I going to tell Louis?"
MMMMMMMMMM
He could feel the Queen's gaze on him.
Once the Sun had set, their captors put out the fire and tied the end of the Queen's rope to the separate length that tied him to the tree. She sat next to him, but had kept her head turned away at first, and he could hear the odd sniffle and hitch in her breath as she ate the little food they were given. Her hair had been roughly cut and now only reached an inch or so below her shoulders. Thankfully her hair was long and they had only cut off a few inches so far, but he was sure their captors planned on questioning them more. From what he understood, he and the Queen were going to be taken to a Spanish general, but the men would interrogate him along the way, with the Queen's hair cut shorter and shorter with each unanswered question about battle plans, troop sizes, and weapon quantities. She had said that neither of them would give up any information, and he had taken that as a command, and would follow it until she indicated otherwise.
He looked at her now, meeting her eyes. She quickly glanced to his shackled hands and then turned away for a couple of seconds before looking back at him expectantly. He pouted, confused. She repeated the action; looking pointedly at his hands and then turning, showing him the back of her head. He shook his head minutely, still not understanding, and she looked at his shackles again before raising her bound hands to rub the back of her neck. Turning her head slightly, he watched as her pinky brushed against something shiny in her hair. A pin, he realized. A pin holding a loosely plaited section of her hair back. And she wanted him to pick the lock on his shackles with it. Clever woman.
Her hand soon fell away but she kept the back of her head facing him for a few more seconds before looking at him again. He turned away, facing forward to make sure they weren't being watched and then nodded his head. Now he just had to figure out a way to get his hands on that pin.
The Queen started shivering, and drew her legs closer to her body while rubbing a hand up and down her arm. "Can't you light another fire?" she asked their captors.
"Oh yeah, why don't we light a nice little fire and lead your friends right to us." Héctor smiled darkly. "Nice try."
Porthos suspected that she knew that wouldn't work though, and was proved right when the Queen started to get up. Crouching slightly, she put her hand on his knee, gently pushing his legs apart, and he immediately understood then what her plan was.
"What do you think you're doing!"
"Can't you see she's freezing," Porthos protested, "Just let her sit against me."
"Please," said the Queen, on her knees in front of him. "I'm so cold, and the baby, I haven't felt the baby-"
"The baby, the baby, the baby. All right, all right, fine, if it'll stop your whining."
Porthos wasted no time in spreading his legs apart, and the Queen quickly sat back against him before their captors could change their minds. He brought his legs closer to her sides but kept his arms up against his chest with his hands under his chin. Now that the back of the Queen's head was right in front of him, he could see that there were actually a couple golden pins in her hair. Keeping his eyes on their captors, he started to feel around the Queen's hair until he located the nearest pin, all the while hoping that the dirt under his nails from clawing at the ground when he fell on the path earlier would help the others find them.
Once he was able to pull the pin out, he swiftly raised his arms and then brought them down around her, resting his hands in her lap. Not only was he able to transfer the pin to her hand now, but he liked being able to protectively encase her with his body, even if he was tied up.
Her legs shielded their hands from view, and she went to work sticking the pin in the first lock. Not wanting to attract attention by looking over her shoulder, he let his head rest back against the tree and listened for the click that would signal that the first shackle had been unlocked.
Feeling it rubbing against his wrist, he grabbed a hold of the shackle the Queen was trying to unlock and held it steady. Several seconds later, he heard a tiny click and felt the shackle loosen around his wrist. He heard the Queen exhale heavily while he breathed a sigh of relief of his own before they adjusted their hands to unlock the second one.
"Oh, I felt him," the Queen softly exclaimed after both of Porthos' wrists had been freed. As their captors turned their heads to look at them, the Queen moved his arms further down into her lap and put her own arms over his, pressing his hands against her warm belly to hide the unlocked shackles. "Oh thank God."
"That's great, Majesty," he said, and squeezed his arms around her shoulders in an imitation of a hug. "That's great. Now try to get some sleep." In the morning they would make their move.
MMMMMMMMMM
She was awoken by Porthos brushing his thumb against her palm. Opening her eyes, she saw one of their captors shaking one of his companions awake. Dawn was just starting to break and the forest was grey and still.
"When they untie me," whispered Porthos behind her. That was when he would fight. "Stay behind me," he continued, "run if you have to."
She nodded that she understood, and took a shaky breath. She didn't want to have to run, she didn't like what it implicated.
"I have to move my arms," he murmured, and she quickly brought her hands to her chest so that he could swiftly but carefully lift his arms over her head and then hide them behind her back while their guard was busy.
The youngest-looking of the men, the one who had bound her, soon came over and offered her a water skin. "Does the baby make you ill in the mornings?" he asked softly in Spanish, concern in his dark eyes.
"Sometimes" she lied, accepting the water skin and taking a few sips before handing it back. Her morning sickness had passed, but she certainly felt like she could throw up right now. "Could you help me up?" He helped her to her feet and then she watched him offer the water skin to Porthos, who declined it. The man eyed him suspiciously, and she feared he had guessed what they had done last night. "I need you to untie me" she quickly said, bringing his attention away from Porthos. The others had looked over to her as well. "From the tree," she clarified. "I would like to tend to my needs with some semblance of privacy."
"I'd like to do the same," added Porthos.
"I will take her," the young man volunteered, and tossed the water skin over to his things before going back over to Anne.
"Let's get this over with," she heard Héctor say while she was untied from the tree. He nodded to the other two men and then drew his sword. Another man picked up his main gauche and the third went to undo the knot.
"Majesty," the young man said, and she reluctantly pulled her gaze away from Porthos as the rope around his torso was reeled in, but not before meeting his eyes and giving the subtlest of nods that she was ready.
She had taken several steps when Porthos began to say something about his legs being stiff. Turning her head, she saw that he had pulled himself into somewhat of a ball, with his hands hidden between his stomach and his legs. He looked up at Héctor. "But not my arms."
And then, like Gerard, like the man who had tried to kill her, he sprang open.
Launching himself upward, Porthos held the shackles so that the chain between them was taut, and deflected Héctor's blade up. Héctor stumbled backwards to avoid cutting his own face and Porthos pressed forward before kicking him in the stomach. Héctor fell to the ground as the other man holding his main gauche advanced.
"Behind you!" she shouted, and then suddenly arms encircled her, firmly holding her in place, though she was already rooted to the ground in fear.
Porthos quickly turned, dodging the man's blade in time. He let go of one end of the shackles then, and swung at the man, hitting him in the jaw with a sickening crunch. The man fell to his knees as blood spewed from his mouth.
By then the third man had dropped the rope and unsheathed his sword, and was running to join the fray. Porthos was ready for him though, and held the chain taut again to catch the man's blade as it came down. The man pulled his sword back, and Porthos let go of one end of the shackles to make a swing at his opponent's leg. The man stepped back to avoid it, and then lunged, but Porthos stepped to the side and whipped the chain around the blade. He tore the sword from the man's hand and sent it flying to the ground a few feet away, but the shackles went with it.
Though weaponless, Porthos still had his fists, and he swiftly punched the man in the face, momentarily incapacitating him. Porthos ran to reach the sword then, as did the sword's owner a second later. Sliding to the ground, Porthos pulled the shackles off the sword and wrapped a hand around the handle just in time to drive the end of the blade into its owner's chest.
"What are you doing?" Héctor, now standing, yelled at the man holding her back. "Threaten her and get him to stop!"
"Hit me," her captor urgently said into her ear.
"What?"
"Step on my foot and then hit me," he instructed, and dropped one of his arms to reach behind him, to where his main gauche would be. "I don't want to hurt you."
Her whirling mind slowed down just enough to remember how he had spoken to her minutes earlier, offering water and asking about the baby before volunteering to walk her further into the woods. And he had looked down at Porthos' hands…
She drove her heel into his foot and he yelped in pain, the arm still wrapped around her and holding the end of the rope loosened. She elbowed him in the side for good measure, and now with enough leeway to turn, swung her bound hands across his face, hitting him with the back of her hand.
Though she knew she couldn't have hit him that hard, he stumbled to the side and into the nearest tree, and, appearing to hit his head on the trunk, slumped down to the ground unconscious. And having released his hold on the rope in the process, Anne was now free to help Porthos.
Sword in one hand and shackles in the other, Porthos was dueling with Héctor, who was also wielding his main gauche now along with his sword. Porthos towered over Héctor, but he was fighting on little sustenance and likely little sleep, and the smaller man danced around him, dodging the shackles while parrying Porthos' blade. Porthos' back was to her and she saw Héctor glance to the side and then grin. She followed his line of sight across the camp to where the man with the bloody mouth was starting to push himself back up.
"You're a dead man, General," said Héctor in French.
Staggering to his feet, the other man drew his sword, and wincing, spit out a glob of blood before fixing his gaze on Porthos. Her first thought was to warn Porthos as she did before, but he was too entangled with Héctor and she did not want to distract him. She had to act. Now.
The man slowly advanced, and once he passed the middle of the camp, she ran out, and dropped down to her knees in front of the pile of ash that had been the fire. Gathering a fistful in one hand and a small rock from the circle that surrounded it in the other, she sprang up and tossed the rock at the man's back. It wasn't the easiest thing to do with her hands bound, but it succeeded in getting him to stop and turn around, and then she promptly threw the ashes into his face.
The man cried out as the ashes had gotten into his eyes and bloodied mouth, and began coughing and sputtering, and swiping at his eyes with his free hand. His right hand, however, still held his sword, and with closed eyes, he swung it blindly in a wide arc as she ducked down. She saw the tip of the blade coming towards her, and brought her arms up to shield her face, squeezing her eyes shut as she did, and the next thing she felt was a sharp, stinging pain rip across her upper arm.
"Majesty!"
Crying out as she fell back onto her elbow, she opened her eyes. The man who struck her was bent over, still coughing and rubbing at his eyes. Beyond him, Porthos landed blow after blow upon Héctor's sword, looking as if he was trying to break the blade in half, and Héctor fell back from the force of the attack. Porthos threw the shackles at him then, and turned away, toward her, but Héctor deflected them with his sword and swung his blade back at Porthos, catching him on the lower thigh. Porthos grimaced and put his hand to it but kept going, barely faltering in his step.
Roaring as he came up to the other man, Porthos easily knocked his opponent's sword out of his hand as it was raised at the last second, and then cut the man down for good. Getting down on his knees between her and the dead man, Porthos leaned onto his hands, breathing heavily as Héctor came up behind him.
"What's the matter, General?" asked Héctor in French. "Don't you have any fight left?"
She looked over to Porthos as she pushed herself up onto her hands. He was still on all fours, but his left hand was moving upwards, closer and closer to the pistol that was attached to the dead man's belt.
Looking up into Héctor's eyes, she spoke to him in Spanish: "You're a dead man, Héctor."
In one fluid motion, Porthos whipped around on his knees and extended his left arm out, holding the pistol aloft, and she watched as Héctor's eyes widened in the split second before Porthos fired.
MMMMMMMMMM
They came to a fork in the trail, and up ahead on the left Aramis could see something blue on the side of the path. A shawl, he realized after getting off his horse and walking over to it.
"The Queen's?" Athos asked as Aramis took it into his hands.
Rubbing his fingers against the fine silk, he nodded, and swiftly went to get back on his horse.
"Wait, let's check for other signs first."
"This isn't enough of a sign for you?" Aramis countered, holding the shawl up.
Athos raised his eyebrows. "It's too much of a sign."
With an aggravated sigh, Aramis looked back down at the shawl. A ring could be dropped unnoticed by her captors, but this? This was much larger, and would be much harder to take off and leave behind, and they both knew Anne was smarter than that.
Wrapping his reins around a nearby branch, Aramis went to look for more clues while Athos did the same on the other trail. His impatience made it hard for him to focus though, and he found himself having to go back over the same patches of ground after failing to look for any remnants of fabric that could have caught on a branch, footprints in the dirt, or even blood on the leaves.
"Aramis!" called out Athos. He was crouched down further up the other trail, and when Aramis came over he held up another one of Anne's rings, the diamond ring she wore on her right index finger. Taking it into his hand, he clenched his fist around it, the pointed ends of the metalwork digging into his palm.
Standing up, Athos put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's check if there's anything else."
Spreading out, Aramis took to the other side of the trail, and after walking up it a few steps, stumbled when the toe of his boot caught on a divot. Looking back, he examined the ground. The dirt had been recently disturbed. He kicked at a spot on the ground next to it, and was able to create a similar-looking indent, but an animal could have made such a mark as well. Getting to his knees, he examined the area around it, and a few feet ahead he spotted another disturbance in the dirt. Crawling over to it, he ran his fingers over the tracks that had been carved into the ground.
"Here," he called over to Athos. A person had made these marks, of that he was certain, and running his fingers over the lines again, he was sure it was a hand larger than Anne's, which gave him some comfort, though he didn't exactly like the idea of Porthos being the one on the ground either. "This is the way."
Then they heard the gunshot.
MMMMMMMMMM
As soon as Héctor's body hit the ground, Porthos turned to her.
"Majesty, are you-"
"Your Majesty!" exclaimed the remaining captor in French, rushing over to them.
"Get back!" Porthos yelled, jumping to his feet to stand in front of the Queen and raising his sword. The Spaniard swiftly came to a stop and put his hands up.
"Porthos, wait! He let me go!" He heard the Queen say, and then felt her hand on his arm. "He let me go." she repeated when he met her eyes.
"Your Majesty, your arm, please, let me tend to it," said the man.
Porthos looked to her again, and when she nodded, he lowered his sword. "Your weapons, toss them over, then you can fetch the supplies," he instructed.
After cutting the rope that still bound her hands, he had the Queen sit back down against the tree, but facing away from the bodies. He was hesitant about letting the Spaniard touch her, but he preferred to be able to watch the man and have his hands free than the other way around.
"What is your name?" The Queen asked the man as he cleaned the wound. It seemed to be a shallow cut, no stitching required, but he could hardly bear the sight of it nonetheless; the Queen had been injured while under his protection.
"Miguel, Majesty."
"Why did you let me go, Miguel? Why are you helping us?"
Miguel paused while wrapping her arm. "I have witnessed a stillbirth, more than once, and my wife nearly died after the second time," he answered. "I did not want you and your child to be harmed. I did not want to partake in this scheme in the first place, even before Héctor decided to take you along with the General."
He looked at Miguel sharply. "You mean you were only going to take me?"
"Yes."
"And how did you know who we were, where we would be?"
"Héctor made a deal, General, with your lieutenant."
MMMMMMMMMM
"Longueville?"
Anne glanced over at Porthos, pouting in confusion, before looking back at Miguel. "What deal?"
"Our scouting party had been out near the French lines, and we were caught and brought to the Duc de Longueville. In exchange for our freedom, we were told where the General would be going…" he looked over at Porthos, "so that we could kill him."
"But why?" Anne asked. She turned to Porthos. "Why would he want you dead?"
Porthos didn't answer; he sat across from her stone-faced and still staring at Miguel.
"Because he wants to take his place," Miguel supplied, and Anne closed her eyes as the pieces fell into place, wondering if there would ever be a time she wouldn't have to worry about men's ambition, and the lengths they would go to attain it.
"He made Héctor swear not to harm Your Majesty or the King," Miguel continued, "but on our way here Héctor still talked of taking you both hostage, and when he saw you alone and walking over to the General…"
Porthos scoffed. "He gives the enemy our location and then trusts them not to go for the higher prize."
"Yes, but Héctor should not have thought his own plan would work either." Miguel added, and after he finished wrapping her arm, he met her eyes. "Queen of France you are now, but you are still a daughter of Spain, and he should never have expected you to bend to his will."
Anne lowered her gaze. We Habsburgs are subjects to no one, her father would say.
"Would you like me to take a look at your leg as well, General?" Miguel asked, looking pointedly at where Porthos had hastily tied one of the scarves that had been used as a gag around the cut on his leg.
Porthos shook his head. "I can take care of it. You should be going though, our friends will be on their way and I don't think you'll want to be here when they arrive."
With an approving nod from her, Miguel went and readied his horse, leaving them a little food and one of the water skins while he did so.
When Miguel was ready to go, she stood up to see him off, and thanked him once more for all his help. To her surprise, Porthos also went up to him and extended his hand. Miguel looked taken aback by the gesture as well, but promptly accepted the offered hand. "General," he said, and they both gave respectful tilts of their heads before Miguel mounted his horse.
"Miguel?" Anne asked, taking a step closer. "You and your wife, were you ever blessed with a child?"
Miguel smiled. "Rosa, our little flower."
Anne smiled softly in return. "I will see an end to this war, Miguel, but in the meantime, keep yourself safe for them."
Once Miguel left, Anne turned back to Porthos. "I'm going to rewrap that," she said, gesturing to his leg.
"Thank you, Majesty, but-"
"I insist," she interjected before he could further protest, and went to get the roll of bandages Miguel had left them while Porthos went back over to the tree to sit against it and undo the scarf around his leg. "I'm sure you already know," she began once she kneeled down next to him and went to work, "but Aramis doesn't know the meaning of taking it easy, nor does he like to ask for help, so I've learned to do more than just call for the doctor and lay kisses on bruised knees and scraped elbows."
Porthos let out a huff of breath as he shook his head. "Yeah, that's Aramis. We'd basically have to shove him into a bed and threaten to tie him down whenever he was injured."
"Oh, so he had a real reason to believe you and Athos would react in such a way when you found out about the baby, then."
"He thought we'd shove him into a bed and tie him down?"
"And perform a certain operation, yes," she confirmed. "I thought he was just being dramatic, but now I'm glad I came to prevent such a grievous assault on his person."
She looked up to see Porthos' bewildered expression. She gave him a tentative smile and was relieved when he let out a wheezing laugh. "Won't do much good now," he said. "That's something Athos and I should've done before we left Paris."
Her smile widened, glad to be able to have such a lighthearted exchange after what they'd been through. As she proceeded to rewrap his wound though, she remembered the reason they were able to be captured in the first place. "I do hope you won't still be angry with him when you see him again," she said seriously. "We came out here because he wanted to be able to give you the news himself, to talk to you."
Porthos let out a weary sigh. "I'm not angry with him."
"Then why did you walk off?"
"I just-I'm worried about him. The two of you barely got away with it last time. And this time," he sighed once more, "this time, being so near one another, I don't know if-I'm afraid he'll be more likely to lay his guard down, that it will be harder for him to hide his feelings, and I won't be there to protect him."
Finishing with the bandage, Anne shifted into a sitting position. "You and he are so alike, you really are like brothers," she said. And once Porthos turned to look at her, she continued, "When I told him I was with child again, I thought he might be angry or disappointed with me, but he was just worried, we both were. That fear of the truth coming out about our son, it's never gone away, even after Rochefort was killed, even after the King died, and yes, Aramis and I are closer now, but it means we can be there to support each other, and finally share the joy of being together, being a family."
Porthos bowed his head and nodded. Her heart went out to him; he's known Aramis for much longer than her, they'd been through so much together, and Aramis wasn't safely tucked away in a monastery anymore, but back in the heart of danger.
"And we are not without protectors," she added. "Constance and d'Artagnan are looking out for us."
Porthos lifted his eyes to meet hers. "And Milady de Winter? Aramis told Athos and I."
"For slightly different reasons, but yes, her too. Porthos," she laid a hand on his wrist, "you're not out here doing nothing. You just saved my life, my child's life, and when you go out to fight at the borders, you're protecting everything and everyone behind you, including Aramis."
"What about Condé?"
She moved her hand to her stomach. "Condé's days as the heir are numbered."
"All due respect, Majesty, but how can you be so sure the child will be a boy?"
Anne lightly shrugged. "I just know it."
He raised his eyebrows. "That's what Elodie said."
A smile broke on Anne's face at the remark. "Well, I've been right the past two times so I think the odds are in my favour."
Porthos was quiet for a few seconds. "I didn't know...that you'd lost a child."
"It was a long time ago. I was little more than a child myself." She was about as far along as Sylvie is now, and like her, hardly showed yet. And after she lost her son, her body had so quickly returned to its former shape, so quickly wanted to forget him and move on like everyone else around her.
"It was the King's child? Sorry," he hastily added, "It's just...well, the Cardinal had said you were barren."
"As in unable to bear a living child," Anne clarified. "It doesn't mean much of a difference to men like the Cardinal. In the end there was no heir."
"It's not right that he tried to have you killed for that."
"No, but…" her gaze fell. "Sometimes I think, if I had known Aramis and I would conceive our son that night, if I too hadn't come to believe that I would never have a child, I would have let them think me dead."
"You'd have given up the crown?" Porthos asked, his surprise evident in his voice. "Even if you could have given the King an heir after all?"
She gave a nod of her head. "And even if there wasn't a child. If I had known then the depth of my love for Aramis, and his for me, why return to a man who resented me, to reign over people who hated me because of the country of my birth?" She took a deep breath. "But I didn't know any of that. I didn't even know if he and I would make it out of that convent alive. And running away from our duty-" she looked up and met Porthos' gaze "-from the people we care about, it's just not who we are."
Silence fell between them as the possibilities of what could have been lingered in the air. She had always cherished that night at the convent, and the practical side of her knew that faking her death and hiding away would have been difficult to carry out, nor without its own dangers, but until now, she didn't think any kind of life with Aramis would have been possible otherwise.
Before she could dwell further on what could have been, a brisk breeze blew through the trees, and Anne shivered as it hit her.
Porthos stood up, his fingers going to the buttons on his doublet. "Here," he said, and taking the garment off, wrapped it around her shoulders.
She drew it closer around her body, easily enveloping herself in it. She looked up into his eyes. "Thank you, Porthos, for looking after me, and Aramis."
"Majesty..." Porthos began, but he cut himself off at the sound of leaves crunching and twigs snapping nearby.
They both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise, and soon the thundering of hooves along with the heavy breathing of horses met her ears and her heart leap to her throat. Aramis. Getting to her feet, Porthos still positioned himself in front of her though, and she found herself clutching onto his sleeve.
"Aramis?" shouted Porthos.
"Porthos!" came the return call, and Anne's knees nearly gave out upon hearing Aramis' voice.
Grabbing a sword, Porthos began hitting the hilt against a rock in his other hand. "Over here!"
The hoof beats became closer and closer, and Porthos tossed aside the rock and sword as Aramis and Athos came into the clearing. Aramis, dressed in his musketeer leathers, immediately dismounted, and it took him three big strides to meet her halfway. She threw her arms around him while his own arms wrapped tightly around her.
"Louis?" she asked, pulling away.
"Safe," Aramis answered, to which she let out a sigh of relief. "But missing you." He moved to rest his hands on her arms and she grimaced when he pressed against the cut, which he noticed with a frown. "You're hurt?" He looked sharply over at Porthos.
"A scratch," she insisted. "A consequence of my own doing."
"Let me look at it," Aramis said, and went to push Porthos' doublet off her shoulders.
She grabbed his hands to stop him. "Aramis, wait." She wasn't ready for him to see what they did to her, to see his reaction, and she didn't want him to blame Porthos.
"What's the matter?" He narrowed his eyes. "You said it's just a scratch."
She lowered his hands. "It is, but, Aramis, they interrogated us. I instructed Porthos not to say anything, and...with each unanswered question, more was cut off." Letting go of his hands, she slowly took the doublet off herself and bowed her head, letting the shorter strands fall forward across her shoulders as she handed the doublet back to Porthos.
Wordlessly, Aramis reached up and ran his fingers along her hair, but the action didn't last nearly as long as it usually did, and she mourned the too-soon loss of his touch. Closing her eyes, she tried to keep her gathering tears at bay, but a single droplet escaped, and made its way down her cheek. She felt Aramis' hand cupping her face then, and he wiped away the wetness under her eye with his thumb before moving his hand to cradle the back of her head and bring her back into his embrace. She gladly buried her face in the crook of his neck and inhaled his familiar scent. "It will grow back, Ana," he soothed.
"These men, who were they?" she heard Athos ask.
"Spanish scouts," Porthos answered as she and Aramis turned to face him. "Though they weren't working alone."
"You can explain on the way back," said Athos. "The others are waiting. I'll come back later to take care of the bodies."
"Come on," Aramis softly said to her, "let's get you back to Louis."
Anne smiled at the thought of being reunited with her son, as well as the others, but then she found herself running a hand over her hair self-consciously; she didn't want Louis to see her in such a state.
"Here," said Aramis, and reaching into his saddlebag, pulled out her shawl.
"But, that was to lead you the wrong way, I left-"
"These?" Aramis opened up his left hand to reveal her rings. "Thankfully, Athos and your clues stopped me in time from flying down the wrong path. The gunshot also helped, but not before momentarily stopping my heart."
She took the rings and slid them back on her fingers. "That was Porthos, stopping the last man, the leader of the group." She grasped his wrist, and stared into his eyes. "He kept me safe, Aramis, and was prepared to sacrifice his life for me, for our child."
With a glance over at Porthos, who had settled onto a horse, he looked back at her and nodded. With a small smile, he proceeded to drape her shawl over her head, wrapping an end over her shoulder, and effectively covering her hair.
She could have taken one of the horses that had belonged to their captors as Porthos did, but she chose to ride with Aramis, wanting to feel the comfort and safety of his arms around her. And while she and Porthos recounted their experience, Aramis pressed tender kisses along her shoulder and murmured into her ear that she was safe now.
A/N: The next chapter is halfway done, but might not be ready in two weeks
Historical background/inspiration:
-The motto for Anne's family, the House of Habsburg, is A.E.I.O.U. which aren't just vowels you can buy on Wheel of Fortune, but stands for a phrase in Latin that roughly translates to "All the world is subject to Austria"
-Mazarinades were pamphlets and other works that criticized/attacked Mazarin, Anne, and the government. From Ruth Kleinman's Anne of Austira, one such Mazarinade that circulated after Mazarin went into exile contained the verses:
But what if he comes back, what shall we do?
We will cut off his private parts.
The King says: "Don't do that,
Mama still has a use for them."