Why are you here?
"I'm not sure you should be bouncing him so much, he just-"
"Ugh," said Aramis, holding Philippe away from his now-soiled shirt.
"-ate." Anne sighed. "I had a feeling he hadn't been winded enough. Hold on." Getting out of bed, she grabbed a cloth off the side table and went over to wipe the spit-up off their son's chin. "Oh, he's got it on his gown too."
"Quite a lot to come from such a tiny body," Aramis remarked. "Could you take him for a second while I get this off?"
Once Anne had Philippe, Aramis swiftly took off his shirt and then folded it over before laying it down on the bed. "You're next, my boy." Taking Philippe back from Anne, Aramis laid him down on the clean part of the shirt and removed the soiled gown as well.
Now both without shirts, Aramis held Philippe up against his chest and sat down on the bed, Anne settling in next to them. "There we are." He looked over at Anne. "I'll take the shirt to Constance," he told her, flickering his eyes over to where his folded-up shirt lay on the floor by the door to the passageway. It wouldn't do to have the palace staff find baby spit-up on his night-shirt.
"And she's sure that Athos and Sylvie will be all right staying at the garrison with Raoul while they're here for the christening?" she asked.
"They'll be more comfortable and at ease there," he told her as he looked down at Philippe resting against his chest and stroked his thumb across his back. He liked the feel of his son's skin against his; the warmth and closeness of it, the idea of the sound of his heartbeat possibly lulling Philippe to sleep. He looked over at Anne, who was smiling softly at them. "You know they mean no offense by declining the rooms you offered."
"I know. I'm just eager to see them again. And to meet little Raoul."
"Mmm, he does have the most wonderful cheeks."
"Bigger than Louis' when he was a baby?"
"Oh yes," he replied. "And Athos wrote that they've gotten even bigger since I saw him." He tucked his chin down and whispered to Philippe, "But you've got more hair."
MMMMMMMMMM
After laying kisses on both Anne and Philippe's temples once Philippe's hungry cries had started, he reluctantly bid them goodnight, and returned to his chambers. He'd been sleeping in his own bed for the most part since Philippe was born. Anne needed her rest, of course, and was periodically checked on and tended to by doctors and midwives in the days and weeks that followed, changing the binding around her chest to stop her milk from coming, and wanting to make sure she had not contracted childbed fever or any other ailment. And although Anne wasn't nursing Philippe, she liked to be there when he was and to hold him afterwards, even for some of the night feeds if she was up for it.
He'd wanted to be there for her, to help her, but they agreed it was too risky for him to stay overnight, and so he was often limited to little windows of time in the evening, which sometimes involved him ducking into the passageway and waiting for Anne to let him back into her room once her or Philippe's attendants had left. It was frustrating, but he knew this private time with Philippe wouldn't be able to continue once the boy started to speak and remember Aramis being in Anne's bedchamber, and particularly in her bed.
Stopping at his desk, he set down his candle and took a seat, sighing at the stack of letters and missives before him. Among them was Porthos' most recent letter, sending his regrets for missing the christening and describing the situation at the front. There had been a Spanish resurgence in the Low Countries, and Porthos and his troops were getting in desperate need of back-up and supplies. He'd even had to concede and recall the Prince of Condé from Catalonia to send him and his troops North, though he'd be stopping in Paris to attend the christening.
He had to do more to help Porthos and finally end this war. It was time for him to make a real difference.
MMMMMMMMMM
Once informed of Athos and his family's arrival the next day, Anne made arrangements for them all to meet in the gardens in the afternoon. A nice break for her, Aramis, and Louis from all the formal meetings of dignitaries and nobles here for the christening.
They went out early to the gardens, and while she sat in the shade with Philippe in her arms, Aramis and Louis sparred out on the lawn as they waited for their friends.
D'Artagnan was at the head of the group once they arrived, carrying little Nicolette with Constance at his side. Elodie and a rapidly growing Marie-Cessette followed after, and behind her were Athos and Sylvie, with Raoul in his mother's arms.
A parade of babies, it looked like, and she smiled to herself at how much her family had grown.
After the group bowed and paid their respects to their monarchs, less formal greetings followed with Aramis clasping hands and bestowing kisses on cheeks before bringing Athos and Sylvie forth to present their son.
"Your Majesty," said Athos, the pride evident in his voice, "may I present my son, Raoul."
"Oh, he's gorgeous," she told them, smiling down at the gurling babe. He really did have very plump cheeks, and the wrist peeking out from his swaddling had rolls too. Reaching over, Aramis grasped his little hand and gave it a shake.
"And I am pleased for you both to meet my son," she said, pausing to look at Aramis as he straightened, "Philippe."
"A handsome boy, Your Majesty."
"An impressive head of hair, don't you think?" asked Aramis, grinning.
"Very," conceded Sylvie. "More than Raoul and Nicolette combined."
"Philippe's hair is different than mine because he looks like my Papa and I look like my Mama," Louis explained knowingly; having asked about it previously. "But I have Papa's eyes. Philippe's eyes are blue, but Mama says all babies are born with blue eyes and they might turn brown like mine."
"Indeed, Sire," Athos agreed.
"What did you end up doing with little Baby?" Aramis asked.
"Drogo," Athos emphasized, "is staying with a neighbor." He swept his gaze around the grounds. "And your little Sweetie?"
"Is with the Master of the Hounds," Aramis replied.
"I didn't want her getting underfoot," she told them.
"Or slobbering everyone," added Aramis. "We want to save all her drool for the Prince of Condé."
MMMMMMMMMM
She was expecting Condé to look somewhat cross upon his return to Paris, unhappy with the failed campaign in Catalonia and having to travel to different ends of the country, but when he entered the library with his small entourage he was smiling.
"Monsieur le Duc," she greeted as the Condé bowed. A man from his entourage had also come forward with him whom she did not recognize. He was tall and fair, perhaps a few years older than Condé, with wavy blond hair that went down to the nape of his neck.
"Your Majesty."
"Raphaël?" asked Aramis beside her. She looked over to see him staring at the man with narrowed eyes.
The man, Raphaël, smiled widely. "If only our dear mother could see us now, Rene."
Anne frowned, wondering who would call Aramis by his Christian name. But did he say "our" mother?
She looked back at Aramis, who continued to stare open-mouthed at Raphaël.
"Your Majesty," said Condé. "Allow me to introduce Monsieur Aramis."
"Your Majesty," said Raphaël, bowing again. "It is an honour to be in your presence."
"It was the most fortuitous meeting, Your Majesty," said Condé. "On my way to Paris, I stopped at a Jesuit monastery in Toulouse, where I met one of the lay-brothers, Aramis-that is, Raphaël. I made a remark about our new First Minister sharing the name and jokingly asked if he could be of any relation. Well of course Raphaël shook his head, replying that he had a half-brother, but they had both been born in the brothel where their mother worked and therefore couldn't possibly be the First Minister of France. Still, I asked him more about this brother of his and as he described him I couldn't shake this feeling that these two Rene Aramis' were one and the same, and so here we are."
She glanced over at Aramis, but his gaze was fixed on Condé. Her eyes then traveled back and forth between Aramis and his brother. They didn't look much alike, apart from having the same brown eyes, eyes they shared with their mother if she remembered Aramis' description correctly. If anything Raphaël looked more like Louis than Aramis did, and she made note not to let the three of them be seen too close together.
"Was Your Majesty aware that your First Minister was the son of a whore?"
She looked back at Condé to see his smug expression and gave him a smug smile right back. "I am aware that the First Minister was born out of wedlock and later legitimized by his father before becoming one of the late King's finest musketeers, to the point of being chosen by His Majesty to be his personal guard before his death," she stated. "He also looked past the circumstances of the late Governor's birth in favor of his loyalty to the crown. Do you question mine and the late King's judgment and compassion as well as the First Minister's loyalty?"
Condé looked at her for a long second before responding, "No, Your Majesty. I merely wanted to be sure that no secrets were being kept from you." He slid his eyes over to Aramis briefly before returning his gaze to her. "There are also those who might try to use this information to undermine you and the First Minister."
"I thank you, then, for your concern, but I assure you the Minister told me of his humble origins before stepping into his new role. I do hope though, dear Duc, that you did not drag this poor man all the way here to simply use him as a part of some scheme," she added, motioning to Raphaël.
"Of course, not, Majesty. I thought I would reunite two long lost brothers before continuing on to the front, with Raphaël serving as one of my aides."
She reigned in her surprise at Condé wanting to keep Raphaël on, though maybe he had further use in the man. "Very well. Perhaps we should allow them the chance to talk in private then."
MMMMMMMMMM
"You've done well for yourself," said Raphaël as he gazed around the office.
He took a seat behind his desk once Raphaël had lowered himself into a chair across from him. The man certainly reminded him of a young Raphaël in terms of looks, but he hadn't seen his brother since he was a boy. "Tell me about our mother," he said, cutting to the chase.
Raphaël's smile faded. "She's dead," he replied bluntly. "A fever took her, not long after it took little Rolande, three or four years after you left."
He nodded. Pauline had told him the same. "I saw Pauline not too long ago."
Raphaël raised his eyebrows in surprise. "So she made it to Paris?"
He nodded, and proceeded to tell Raphaël of Pauline's engagement, blackmail, and subsequent killing of her blackmailer.
"She was always a fantasist."
"She was trying for a better life, and she nearly got it."
"She aimed too high; took on more than she could handle. So how did you end up in this spot anyway," Raphaël asked, changing the subject.
"Years of loyal dedication, as Her Majesty said. How did you end up with the Prince of Condé?" he countered. "Is it true what he said?"
"You think the Prince was lying?"
"It's quite a coincidence that he should stumble upon you, don't you think?"
"I don't believe in coincidence. God had a purpose in bringing the Prince and I together; whether it was for you and I to meet again or something bigger…" he shrugged, "that I am not sure of yet."
"Something bigger for the Prince such as trying to get me tossed out of the palace?" he offered darkly.
"Apparently not." Raphaël cocked his head to the side and studied him with a heavy gaze that reminded Aramis of his quieter and more restrained younger brother. "You're quite serious now," he remarked.
"I have a serious job."
"Yes, behind a serious desk. Something I never pictured you ending up behind."
"Neither did I. But as we've both found out, life can have many unexpected turns."
MMMMMMMMMM
They were greeted with raucous cheers when they exited the church. Hundreds lined the path, and children were climbing whatever they could to get a better view; building facades, karts, crates and barrels. He trailed behind Anne as she walked with Philippe in her arms and Louis right beside her, giving the odd wave to his subjects. He scanned the crowd as they made their way to the waiting carriage, looking for any potential threats. He'd hardly slept the night before, his mind too busy replaying past attacks, and even now the scars on his hand and side tingled as he thought of the close call he and Anne had had after the cornerstone ceremony at the garrison.
Then there was the matter of Raphaël turning up at court. If that was even really him…
So far though, he could see no holes in his story. He knew of Madame Desjardins, of Pauline, how Aramis' father came for him, and how their mother and baby sister died. He even recounted how Aramis had received the scar on his forehead after a scuffle with some other boys who'd called their mother a whore, though they'd told their mother Aramis had merely tripped. Things, though, someone else from the brothel could have told him or Condé.
Suddenly, there was a creaking, crunching sound from right behind him, and he whipped around to see the young boys throwing themselves from the stacked crates as they toppled.
"Henry!" he heard a woman shout among the cacophony, and as people turned towards the commotion he saw a flash of red hair before a few musketeers descended onto the scene to make sure everything was all right.
Turning back to Anne and the boys, he motioned for them to keep going. "Just a minor mishap," he assured a concerned-looking Anne, hoping that that's all it really was but wanting to get them away in case it was just a distraction for some nefarious plan. Raphaël's presence, along with that of the Prince, was making him apt to question even a seemingly simple thing as children knocking over a stack of crates. After all, wasn't Henri IV's assassin able to reach the King's carriage due to a blockage in the street?
He took it as a good sign that the crowd wasn't erupting into screams or the sounds of a brawl behind him, still he wanted this parade to be done with as soon as possible. He hadn't wanted Anne to go through with it in the first place, but she had emphasized the importance of letting the people see the King and new prince and hearing them cheer them on as such. These were the children of the late beloved King, and the future of France.
And cheer they did.
MMMMMMMMMM
He sat at his desk, exhaling heavily, glad to finally have a moment of peace and quiet after the day's festivities, and relieved that the day had passed without incident. Just a few minutes later though, d'Artagnan appeared at the door to his office.
"Aramis, there you are."
"I've been wondering when you were going to stop by," he replied. "A good report of the crowd? Nothing suspicious about those crates falling over?"
D'Artagnan shook his head. "No, but…I have something you'll want to see, at the garrison."
"What, now?"
"When I say something…I mean someone, two someones, and you'd definitely recognize them, well, you'd definitely recognize one of them, the other has changed quite a bit," d'Artagnan rambled.
"Are you going to tell me who these mysterious someones are?"
D'Artagnan scrunched up his nose and smiled as he shook his head. "No."
Intrigued, he followed d'Artagnan back to the garrison, trying to wrestle more clues out of him as they went but to little avail. D'Artagnan was clearly enjoying himself though, so whoever it was would hopefully be a pleasant surprise to see.
When they finally reached the captain's office, d'Artagnan pushed over the door and Aramis' eyes were immediately drawn to the red hair of the woman sitting next to Constance at the desk. Next to her sat a little boy, who looked to be about Louis' age. They all turned their heads as he stepped into the room.
"Agnes?" he said, stunned as he took in those big expressive eyes of hers. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I heard news of some musketeer named Aramis becoming First Minister and with the Cardinal dead and Philippe's-my Philippe's-mother gone too, I thought it would be safe enough for us to go to the christening for the new prince. We could hide amongst the crowd and see if it was really you."
Aramis looked down and gestured at himself. "It's me."
Getting out of her chair, Agnes came over and hugged him. "It's good to see you. That's new though," she said as she stepped back, pointing at his cheek. "I would have remembered such a scar."
"How'd you get it?" Henry asked.
"I was getting the Queen Regent out of the way of a bullet, only it didn't completely miss me."
Agnes raised her eyebrows. "And so she made you First Minister in return?" she asked, half-serious.
He chuckled lightly. "I have proven to be quite useful to her as a human shield, but I like to believe Her Majesty realized how advantageous a man of my charm and wisdom could be on her council."
"Oh that's all it took?"
Aramis licked his lips and then glanced at Henry before looking over to Constance and d'Artagnan. He flickered his eyes between them and the boy.
Constance nudged her husband with her elbow. "Henry, would you like some more to eat? Something sweet maybe?"
He met Agnes' confused gaze and gave her a nod of assurance.
"Go on," she encouraged with a smile, but once Henry and the others left the room, she looked at Aramis expectantly.
He gestured for her to sit first. "Another reason was so that I could be closer to my son," he admitted after taking Constance's chair. "Though it's 'sons' now."
"Sons?"
"It was good of you to come to the younger one's christening."
Agnes' mouth opened and closed several times while her eyebrows knitted even closer together. "He...the prince...is your-hang on, you said 'sons,' do you mean...do you mean the little king is…"
Aramis nodded and Agnes's jaw dropped.
"But Aramis, he's only a bit younger than Henry...that means...that means you slept with the Queen not long after I left!" she exclaimed, her voice rising towards the end.
Aramis cringed and held his hands out. "Not so loud!" he urged.
Agnes ducked her head and covered her mouth with her hand, nervously looking around as if men might suddenly barge into the room. Once Aramis lowered his hands, she uncovered her mouth. "Is it true though?" she whispered.
Leaning back, he looked to the side as he remembered that night at the convent. "We shared an unexpected, but at the same time, fateful, night together while hiding out from assassins, and now here we are two children later. I also took a page out of your book and we married in secret last year."
"B-but Aramis, she's the Queen Regent of France! You married and had a family with the Queen Regent of France!?"
"You married the rightful King of France," Aramis countered.
"I didn't know he was!"
He smiled at her exclamation but sobered as he remembered something she had once told him. "That first year after Louis was born…it was like you said, an open wound. I knew he was being taken care of and protected, that I could protect him, and that I could see him from time to time, but I could not claim him as my own. I still can't. It's better now, but...my love for my sons, for Anne, it has to be kept secret."
"Oh, Aramis," he heard her say, and then felt her hand on his.
"We don't have much choice in who we fall in love with, do we?" he wondered aloud before looking up to meet her sympathetic gaze.
"No, I don't think we do. But you're together now and that's what matters." She squeezed his hand. "Treasure the love you've found and hold onto it as long as possible."
"I intend to, with everything I have."
MMMMMMMMMM
"You're quite late," said Anne when he walked into her room. "I was starting to think you wouldn't come. Philippe should be waking up for his next feed soon."
"I have to tell you something," he told her. "Do you remember me telling you about a woman named Agnes, and her son, Henry?"
"The woman who's secretly my sister-in-law and the boy with a claim on the throne? How could I forget?"
"I also told you not to worry about that," he reminded her. "They're here, though, in Paris. They came to see me, to see if I was really First Minister."
Her jaw dropped and she stood up from her desk. "They're here? You saw them?"
"They were at the christening and now they're at the garrison," he answered excitedly. "I can't believe how big Henry is, and Agnes was so shocked to find out that I have a family-"
"You told her about the boys!?" she hissed, alarmed.
"I trust her, Ana. And she knows the importance of keeping such a secret."
"A secret that she could decide to use in her favor one day," she countered. "A day when the Cardinal is gone, the old king is gone-"
"Ana-"
"And then there's her friend the First Minister," she continued, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. How did he not see how dangerous this was? "Someone who can not only get her into court but has given her the perfect tool to get rid of the Spanish Regent and her bastard sons!"
"And if you keep raising your voice the whole palace will hear!" he strongly retorted, instantly deflating much of her anger.
"Aramis, I understand how hard it must be for you to not be able to publicly acknowledge the boys as yours, I understand wanting to tell people, but you haven't seen or spoken to this woman in years. Perhaps she had no desire to see her son on the throne then, but the situation has changed, she may have changed. Our hold on the throne is still precarious, and who knows what she's been through over the last several years."
He stepped closer, looking straight into her eyes. "And I understand your fear. You know I share it, you know I would never knowingly put you and the boys in danger. You wouldn't be saying this if you knew her, if you'd only meet her."
He closed the distance between them, and took her hands in his, holding them to his chest. "Don't you trust me?" he asked.
She looked down at their hands as she considered his question and avoided the hint of hurt in his eyes. Didn't she trust him? Shouldn't she? Couldn't she at least grant him such a meeting to try and settle this once and for all? To have one less sword of Damocles hanging over her head?
She exhaled and laid a kiss on his knuckles, sorry for her outburst, before looking up at him. "I trust you."
MMMMMMMMMM
He and Anne were waiting outside under the shade of the trees when Constance came into view leading an anxious-looking Agnes down the path. Henry was just a step behind, his gaze low. When Agnes met his eyes, he gave her an encouraging smile.
"Your Majesty, may I present Madame Bernard and her son, Henry," he announced formally as Agnes gave a small curtsey and Henry a stiff bow. When Henry raised his head though, he heard Anne inhale sharply next to him.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you both," Anne told them, but there was a tightness to her voice. "Please help yourselves to some refreshments," she waved a hand towards the small table of drinks and food before turning away and taking a few steps towards Louis who was further out on the lawn, her breath shaking as she passed him.
He and Constance exchanged confused looks.
"Have I offended her?" Agnes asked in a panicked whisper. "Should we leave?"
"No, stay," Aramis insisted before walking over to Anne. "Majesty?" he asked softly.
"He looks like Louis, like a Bourbon," she answered in a quiet voice, and he knew she wasn't referring to their son. "He could be my Henry."
He glanced back at the boy. Not only did he have the dark hair and dark eyes, but his heavy brow and the set of his jaw did remind him of the late king and his brothers. He had seen his smile though, and he knew he had gotten that from Agnes.
"Will you be all right?"
She nodded. "Yes, yes, I just wasn't expecting…" she closed her eyes briefly before looking back at him, her composure returned. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "I'm being rude to your friends."
They rejoined the others then, and Anne called Louis over before taking Philippe from his governess so she could introduce him to Agnes and Henry.
"Just like Papa," Henry noted excitedly to his mother once he heard the name.
Aramis chuckled and leaned down closer to him. "It's a good name, don't you think?"
Henry looked over at him, a puzzled look on his face. "Is he yours?" he innocently asked.
A silence fell over the group, but it only lasted for a second before Agnes gently explained that the late King was Philippe's father, and that Aramis didn't have any children.
Once Anne quickly but coolly suggested that Louis and Henry go play together, Aramis gave Agnes a grateful, but sad smile. It always pains him to deny his sons, but it hurts less if he doesn't actually have to say the words himself.
Anne, ever the good hostess, began asking Agnes simple questions about the elderly childless couple she served as a caretaker for and when exactly Henry's birthday was, though never venturing into her husband's royal connection.
At one point, once the women had fallen into easy conversation, he got up and went over to Louis and Henry. Louis was trying to spar with the other boy, but Henry clearly wasn't as familiar with a sword as Louis was, and so he went over and gave Henry some quick instruction on how better to hold the sword and turn his wrist. As he did, he noticed Raphaël across the lawn, walking among the flower beds. His brother inclined his head before continuing his stroll.
MMMMMMMMMM
He was working at his desk when the Prince of Condé strode into his office, a now-familiar smirk on his face.
"He's your son, isn't he?"
Aramis froze, though his heart beat loudly in his chest as he thought of his options.
"You feel so secure in your position that you would bring your bastard son and mistress to court?"
A weight lifted off him and he was able to let out the breath he was holding. Raphaël must have told Condé about seeing them. "Henry is not my son and Madame Bernard is not my mistress; she's merely an old friend."
"An old friend who doesn't like to talk about her late husband and hesitated to say if there was any record of her marriage. I happened to meet this Madame Bernard while reviewing the latest work on the garrison you see, beautiful woman, a bit prickly though."
He jumped out of his chair, his blood boiling. "You leave her be," he said through clenched teeth. "She and her son are here as my guests, and I'll not have you interrogating her over some conspiracy."
Condé quirked an eyebrow. "Conspiracy? This is no conspiracy. I merely suspected that what is past is present. Considering your upbringing, your reputation with women, and the timing of your…friend's visit, I made an assumption. Now, believe me, Minister, I have no issue with you having one mistress or three mistresses, one bastard child or twelve. What I take issue with is the possibility of you bringing France to ruin."
He backed off. "You don't like me, I get it. My mother was a prostitute and I come from nothing. You have every right to be here and I don't. But I will tell you what you and I do have in common. We're both soldiers, and I like to think that you also want to protect France and its King, to see them to glory. I swear to you I have no desire to endanger or embarrass the royal family nor ruin France."
Condé gave him another smirk before turning on his heel and walking towards the door. "We shall see, Minister. We shall see."
MMMMMMMMMM
She was staring out the window when she heard the door to the passageway open and close. Familiar footsteps followed and soon she felt Aramis' hands on her arms. As he pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder she sighed, feeling some of the tension leave her body as she prepared to start what would possibly be a difficult conversation.
"Condé will head out the day after tomorrow," Aramis stated, beating her to the punch.
She turned to face him. "And Raphaël?" She feared Aramis would want to keep him here with them and dreaded arguing against him staying in Paris, but he bore too much of a resemblance to Louis and he would bring up too many questions.
"Will be going with him."
She was relieved to see a look of certainty rather than regret on his face. "I'm sorry you didn't have much time with him," she told him.
"Don't be. We were never terribly close, and it's clear he's loyal to the Prince. Perhaps in the future we can build a better relationship, but everything is so precarious right now, I don't want to jeopardize what you and I have over a few childhood memories."
She gave a sympathetic nod. She loved her own siblings dearly, and wished she could see them again, but protecting Aramis and their sons and her role as regent were more important. "What of Agnes and Henry?"
"They'll be heading home tomorrow." He bowed his head. "They're happier where they are, and…" He inhaled deeply. "I'm afraid it's still not safe here for them. Though, at least Constance can write to them now, and I'll be able to hear how they're doing."
She smiled faintly, glad for him. It was a pity they couldn't have another friend in Paris, but even with Conde leaving, there might be others who question Agnes' past and Henry's parentage, and she and Aramis had enough secrets to keep. And she believed Aramis when he said Agnes and Henry were better off, happier, staying where they were, away from the pit of vipers that court could be.
"Did I make the right choice?" she asked. "Making our son the heir."
He frowned and answered, "It was the only choice."
"I could have chosen you."
"Then that wouldn't have been the right choice."
"Our children would have known you as their father."
He rested his hands on her arms once more as he looked into her eyes. "If we made it that far. Ana, if you had run off with me, I'd have been called a kidnapper or worse, and then the Cardinal would have sent even more assassins so that the King could be free to marry again. You knew that. And you know I would have protected you from them, but I would not have wanted to put you through that. Pregnant or with an infant and on the run with a soldier with little to his name. Yes, there was and still is danger in staying, but we have the strength, the power, to face it." He stepped forward to gather her in his arms, and she wrapped her hands around his waist while she rested her head against his chest. "You made the right choice, Ana. You chose our son, as I would have. He's safe and well and we're all together now." He kissed the top of her head. "I couldn't ask for a stronger, more wonderful mother for my children."
She squeezed her arms around him before pulling away slightly to look up at him. Reaching a hand out, she brushed a lock of his hair from his forehead. "And you're a wonderful father. Know that, Aramis."
Historical background/inspiration:
-As Mazarin had intended, Condé could achieve little in Catalonia, and "a Spanish revival in the Low Countries led to his recall" -Wikipedia
A/N:
Hey everyone!
A year to the day since I last updated this fic and boy did it go by fast! Still a lot of work to do on the remaining chapters, especially the next one (and I've added more, too), so I'm afraid it will be a while before I post again, but I wanted to give you all an update, and more of a hint of what's to come...
Hope to see you all again sometime in the new year, and in the meantime, happy holidays!
