Chapter 3: Aramis

She stood frozen in her place. The sheer idea of marriage hadn't crossed her mind since Francois. As a matter of fact, not much in life crossed her mind over the past six years, seeing as how single-minded she had been about avenging her true love.

Marriage! Was he serious?

He stood up from his armchair and moved to the other side of his desk, where he stood facing her, in a half-seated position on the edge of his desk.

"I understand that this may not be what you had expected…" he began.

"Not what I had expected! This is absolutely absurd!" she had come out of her stupor.

The Captain stiffened and straightened up. She had taken them both off guard with her sudden, and loud, reaction. Where was the cool and collected Aramis? But in that very moment when he had spoken those words, she felt like a wild animal being threatened with captivity. He had infringed on her freedom, on this perfect reality she had constructed for herself and worked hard to maintain for years. He had offended her virility. Naturally, none of her other comrades would ever find themselves in this situation. He had reminded her of the one fact she had always wished to forget and reduced her to the same helpless young girl who had run away from that abominable fate six years ago. He had finally exercised his power and his authority over her in that regard. He will make her lose everything. But why should it matter to her anymore, anyway? She had accomplished her mission after all.

Yet she couldn't help but observe that he looked almost… hurt?

In any case, she reminded herself, where would she be without him? She had to admit, without him, she would not have been able to accomplish what she set out to do. He took a big risk on her. He trained her, he mentored her, he guided her. He didn't have to do any of it. She owed him some gratitude or at least some courtesy to listen to what he had to say.

She softened her tone and spoke with a thick voice, trying hard to suppress a lump in her throat as everything she was about to lose came floating in her mind's eye, "Forgive me. I didn't mean to sound so harsh or ungrateful. Especially after everything."

He sneered at her, "You owe me nothing. I suppose I didn't realize that the idea would be that appalling."

The blond musketeer bit her lip. She had offended him. Was it really appalling? She regarded him with a strange novel curiosity as he lifted himself up from the desk and turned around to face the window. In front of her was Capitaine de Treville, leader of the King's Musketeers. He was a man of honor. A man of great integrity. The King and France itself depended on him. He was sensible, responsible and he always did the right thing even if it came at a great risk. He took chances on people. People like D'Artaganan. People like her.

She felt herself blushing with shame at the thought of offending this great man. Why was it absurd? Wasn't Francois the same? Wasn't he intelligent beyond anyone she had ever met? Wasn't he also honorable and dependable? Here was Treville, charged with the guidance and safety of Louis, just as Francois was charged with that of Philippe's. Both men were also considerably older. So, it wasn't a question of age.

She inclined her head slightly to the side. Frankly, he wasn't unhandsome either… He was built and strong. Even at his age, he had kept himself in fit shape and form. His arms were muscular and, now, looking at his behind… Good God, Aramis! Contain yourself!

Yet she couldn't help but think that his stoicism and reserve were but a lid to a deep pot that undoubtedly stewed with a fiery passion – something he must reserve for occasions when… No, stop!

Her neck was red by now from these impromptu and indecent thoughts about her Captain. But therein was the problem: he was her Captain. Her superior. Perhaps in another context, she wouldn't have found the idea so "absurd".

"It's not appalling," she said softly, causing him to turn around. Was that a flicker of hope she saw in his eyes? She smiled faintly at him. "It's just unlike you, to be honest."

He chuckled, "Unlike me? How so, pray?"

She smiled coyly and walked about the room in a slow motion.

"Well, six years ago, it made sense. I was young and you felt obliged. You had wanted to do the honorable thing. The practical thing, if anything I had learned from you all these years. But now? I no longer need your protection and we have successfully uncovered the plot and eliminated those who constructed it. We both accomplished our missions. Together."

He chuckled again softly to himself and turned away once more. Yes, she did not need his protection. She never did, really. But the fact that she admitted that she had at some point all those years ago made him feel inflated. His mind lingered on the last word she said: together. Could he possibly hope that it could mean something? That she might share his feelings at some point? He felt that he somehow had gotten through to her. He intended to exploit that, but he needed to be smart about it.

He sat down and motioned to her to sit on the chair opposite his desk.

"Tell me, Aramis, how does it feel now?"

She was taken aback by his question. How did what feel? Her expression seemed to hint to him. Although deep inside, she knew what he meant.

"Now that you killed Manson and your fiancé can finally rest in peace. Now that you avenged him with honor. Now that you accomplished the mission you set out to do six years ago. How does it feel?"

He spelled it out for her in all the bluntness that she, herself, had avoided in her head.

"I… hadn't yet had the time to think about it, Sir. We have been so occupied since we came back," she replied dryly. How dare he? It was none of his business! He had no right to ask her, to pry into her mind. Not once in the past six years had they had such a personal exchange. Does he now feel as though he can begin to treat her like a true inferior? As if he had a right to her? She closed her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest and furrowed her brow.

He knew he was venturing into dangerous territory. But he was also a strategic man. He will stop here for now.

"Well, then, soldier. It seems you have a lot to think about."

….

It was a rare, almost historical, occasion: the tavern was filled with the King's Musketeers and the Cardinal's Red Guard at the same time. Both regiments were celebrating their joint victory over the Iron Mask and his accomplices.

The atmosphere seemed to mock her. Everyone was festive and loud. She was the only one sulking, sitting in the same manner she did in the Captain's office: arms crossed over her chest, eyes closed and brows furrowed.

"What's wrong with him?" she heard Porthos whisper to Athos as he sat down next to her, depositing a few mugs of ale on the table.

"I don't know, he's been like this since he saw the Captain this morning," Athos replied.

Porthos nudged Aramis, who opened her eyes to glare at him.

"Someone's got scolded by the Captain again!" he teased in a childish tone, "What was it this time? You showed up a minute too early to training? Your doublet had too many buttons on it? Or did you beat a Red Guard again?" he said the last phrase behind his hand in a dramatic gesture at concealment. Athos only chuckled, trying to suppress his laughter. He knew Aramis' moods all too well and this one was just a storm waiting to happen; and he did not want to be caught in it.

"The Captain's Golden Boy!" Porthos continued teasing before he broke into a fit of laughter, while petting the head of Aramis. Athos bit his lip. He was sure Porthos was drunk, but that was too far.

Aramis violently shook him off, "Leave me alone, Porthos!" and she stormed out of the tavern, brushing past D'Artagnan, who had just come in. In her fury, she didn't see him.

She was almost at Pont Neuf when she heard hurried footsteps approaching. She turned around only to find D'Artagnan running towards her, his hand on his hat to secure it in place. When he finally reached her, he almost collapsed. He was bent over, his hands on knees for a long time, trying to catch his breath.

"You… walk… fast!" he breathed, "Phew!"

He straightened up and stretched himself out. Aramis simply regarded him with amusement.

"What is it, D'Artagnan?" she finally spoke, dryly. She was in no mood to talk to anyone.

"I heard that you were in the Captain's office this morning and that you haven't been in a good mood since then," he declared bluntly.

She rolled her eyes and turned away.

"It was about Belle-Isle, wasn't it?"

She turned around and squinted at him.

"Oh, I knew it was!" his face was now full of concern, "Oh, what a mess! The Captain knows I know now, doesn't he? And he must have been furious! Oh, Aramis! This is all my fault. I can fix this. I can tell him it wasn't your fault, that I had to do it to save your life, that…"

She cut him off by placing a hand on his shoulder. He had disarmed her of all her indignation and her anger. She was touched. How sweet he was and how honorable! Constance was a lucky woman, she thought to herself.

She smiled warmly at him, "Don't worry, D'Artagnan. But thank you, really. It wasn't about that at all."

She swallowed with difficulty and turned away, the tears accumulating at the corner of her eyes despite herself. All she wanted was to be left alone so she can let herself go and relieve herself from this emotional turmoil she suddenly found herself in.

"Aramis…" D'Artagnan gently spoke. It broke his heart to see her like this. It was like she was wounded all over again. "You could tell me anything, I promise I would never betray your trust."

She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes, "I know." She smiled back at him and he could see the rim of her eyes had turned red, "I just want to be alone tonight, if that's alright."

He understood. "If you need me…"

"I know." She smiled and turned away.

She barely heard his footsteps depart when he suddenly turned back, "Uhh, Aramis?"

"Yes, D'Artagnan?"

"It looks like you won't be alone tonight."

"What do you…?"

She turned abruptly to see Athos and Porthos approaching. She quickly wiped her face with her hands and exhaled a few times to calm herself. It looked like today was a day of revelations. If not now, then when? If she were to lose everything, she might as well orchestrate it herself. It was time to tell them.

"Hey, D'Artagnan, you're not staying with us?" Porthos asked the young musketeer.

"Not tonight. I promised Constance to walk her home from the Louvre," with that, he winked at Aramis and left, knowing that these three had a lot to talk about.