A/N: Thank you pallysAramisRios and SnidgetHex for reviewing!
Chapter 5
Aramis returned to the garrison to handle things since Athos was otherwise occupied, but a few hours later he went back to the palace dungeon to check on them. Emilie's screams were echoing all the way down the corridor.
"Noooooo! Get off me! Devillll! Devil!"
Her tortured sobs tore at Aramis's heart and conscience, and he had to turn and leave, unable to bear them a moment longer. Perhaps that made him a coward. Emilie was here because of him.
But her torment from the drug withdrawal was her mother's doing. Emilie was an unknowing slave to it, and the musketeers were only trying to free her.
Aramis went upstairs and found an alcove where he could sit out of the way, still within sight of the stairway down to the dungeon but far enough removed from its echoes. He pulled out his Bible and began to read, searching for solace among its passages to assuage his guilt and affirm his faith in his actions.
"Aramis."
He looked up in surprise, then quickly got to his feet. "Your Majesty."
The Queen had changed back into her own finery and was under the watchful eyes of her ladies-in-waiting and a pair of guards, paced several feet back to give them a small measure of privacy.
"Treville told me about Emilie," Anne said, then hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "How is she?"
"Coming down from a drug addiction is a difficult thing," he replied.
Anne nodded.
Aramis shifted his weight in the awkward silence that followed.
"I held so much hate for her," Anne finally spoke again, voice laced with shame. Her gaze drifted just past Aramis's shoulder, not quite looking at him. "I'm guilty of the very thing I condemned Emilie for preaching."
"No," he immediately protested, taking a step closer. "You were angry over the senseless violence and deaths. That is a righteous anger, not hate." He looked at the Bible in his hands and lifted it as evidence. "Even our Savior had his moments."
Anne finally met his gaze and tried to give a wan smile. "What will happen to Emilie now?"
"Once the drug leaves her body, I hope she will see the truth, that her visions aren't from God, and it is not his will to march on Spain."
"I pray you're right."
Aramis hesitated. "If she does," he said tentatively, "she should be allowed to return home. None of this was truly her doing. She was deceived by someone she trusted."
Anne nodded. "I will speak with the King on her behalf."
Aramis exhaled in relief. "Thank you."
The Queen offered him another small smile and he bowed respectfully as she turned to leave. Then he settled back in the alcove and returned to his Bible as the day waxed into evening. He couldn't bring himself to go down to the dungeon again, knowing it was likely too soon for much progress to have been made. Emilie's mother had been poisoning her for years; it would take a long time to purge the drug from her body.
D'Artagnan came by, probably to check on Constance. "How's it going?" he asked.
Aramis shrugged one shoulder.
D'Artagnan pursed his mouth in consideration. "Are you going to stay here all night?"
"Seems only right someone intercede on Emilie's behalf," he replied, reaching up to finger his rosary. "And we both know it won't be Athos."
D'Artagnan obliged him with a small smile at the attempt at humor. "I'll see if they need anything and then bring you some food."
Aramis shook his head. "No, thank you." He would fast and pray.
D'Artagnan looked unhappy but didn't press the issue.
The hours ticked on. Evening turned into night. And Aramis stayed in that alcove, reading and praying by candlelight.
Constance came up a few hours before dawn, looking drawn and exhausted.
Aramis quickly got to his feet, an open question in his eyes.
"She's resting now," Constance said. "The worst is over."
His shoulders slumped in relief. "Thank you, Constance. I know that could not have been easy."
She nodded. "I feel sorry for her. That dream I had…to be plagued by them every single night…" She folded her arms across herself. "How could her mother be so cruel?"
"She thought she was providing them with a better life than the one they had," Aramis said softly, though that was no excuse. How many people had died already because of that woman's ambitions? How many more would?
"I'll walk you home," Aramis said, reaching out to steer Constance away from the dungeon.
Since it was so late—or rather, early—when Aramis dropped her off at home, he decided to make a stop at his room at the garrison to catch a little sleep. Which turned out to be a few hours longer than he'd intended, even with leaving the curtains open so the sunrise would wake him early.
Hunger pangs made his stomach cramp but he ignored them as he made his way back to the Louvre to check on Emilie and Athos. The silence in the dungeon corridor was both a relief and a tad worrisome. Yet when Aramis entered the cell, Athos was calmly standing there, watching over Emilie where she lay on the cot.
"How is she?" Aramis asked, moving to stand over her. She was so still and pale, skin glistening with the remnants of sweat and hair dull and lank from sickness. She looked almost dead.
"She should be herself by now," Athos replied. "If she even knows who that is."
Aramis's jaw tightened and he gingerly sat on the edge of the cot. He took Emilie's limp hand in his and was relieved to find it was still warm with life.
She stirred at the touch, inhaling deeply as wakefulness brought her around. She looked around the pale light filtering through the high window. "How long have I been asleep?"
"About fifteen hours," Athos replied.
Her brows pinched. "I didn't dream once," she said in confusion.
Aramis looked at Athos, who gave a subtle nod of acknowledgement and left.
Emilie sat up, and Aramis reached out to steady her as she scooted back to lean against the wall. Her eyes were haunted, bereft.
"God has left me," she said brokenly.
"Not God," Aramis replied earnestly. "A drug has left you."
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I feel so alone."
Aramis's chest constricted. He hadn't wanted to destroy her faith.
"I was happier before," she breathed, gazing up at the barred window. "Even if it was a lie." She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears started to come. "My mother?" she asked him disbelievingly.
Aramis nodded regretfully.
"But she loves me. She wouldn't hurt me, would she?"
Aramis didn't have an answer to that, and as much as he wanted to comfort Emilie, they still had a mob to stop.
"You have a chance to redeem all this," he said instead. "One chance to find a true path back to God."
He hated manipulating her like this, the way her mother had. His only consolation was he was trying to save lives, not destroy them.
Though, the evidence was pretty clear that he had, in fact, ruined at least one…
.o.0.o.
They took Emilie back to the encampment. She slid off Rhaego's back without any assistance from Aramis, so he stayed seated on his dragon as she walked toward the edge of the camp. The people flocked toward her, and then in a silent wave of solidarity, took a knee before her like she was the Queen herself. Emilie half turned to look back at Aramis, and he saw the moisture glistening in her eyes. He wished he could stand beside her and offer strength, but this was something she had to do on her own.
"My friends…" she began. "You have followed me across France to do God's work. But this is where our journey ends. My visions were based on deceit and treachery. They were not from God."
Her mother jumped to her feet as surprised voices sounded throughout the throng.
"I renounce them," she declared.
"What are you saying?" her mother asked in disbelief. "They've corrupted you somehow—"
"This holy war," Emilie said louder. "Was a phantom of my imagination. It can only end in your deaths. I was blind, but now my eyes have been opened. I have one last message for you, this time an honest one. Go home!" Her voice broke with the pronouncement. "Our work here is finished."
Nearly every face in the crowd looked crestfallen, and Aramis realized more than one person's faith was being shattered here this day. People began to rise from their devout positions and look around at each other as though lost.
Emilie turned to her mother. "Why did you do it, Mother? Why did you feed me all those lies?"
"I harnessed your gift. And brought you adoration!"
"It was you who wanted all that. I believed my visions came from God." Emilie shook her head in disgust. "You betrayed me for your own greed and ambition."
"I wanted a life," the old woman said desperately, moving forward to clasp her daughter's arm. "A better life for both of us. One we deserved."
"You destroyed my mind to grasp it." Emilie shook her head again and yelled at everyone, "Just go home! You have been deceived! Listen to your own hearts, not to those who would corrupt and mislead you!" Her voice broke with a sob. "Go home."
"Pack your things and leave," d'Artagnan spoke up. "You have one hour before the Guard puts you to the sword."
Aramis looked away, sending up a silent prayer that it wouldn't come to that.
"This is not my daughter!" the old woman suddenly declared. "They have sent an imposter to do the Devil's work! Stand by me, and I will lead you to Spain! Nothing has changed!"
Aramis scowled under his breath. He had hoped that deep down, some small part of Emilie's mother did care for her daughter, but to publicly cast her aside like this…the woman had no shame. They should arrest her.
"False prophet!" Raymond shouted and lobbed a rock through the air. It struck Emilie's mother in the temple and dropped her instantly. Emilie screamed.
The dragons shifted and snarled, and Aramis leaped from the saddle, but by the time he reached Emilie, who was holding her mother's limp body in her arms, Raymond had vanished into the masses. No one else moved, stunned by the sudden violence turned against their own.
Aramis removed his hat and reached down to clasp Emilie's shoulder. She stiffened at the touch.
"Just leave me," she said brusquely.
He reluctantly stepped back, and the people finally began to disperse, leaving their once praised savior on the ground cradling her dead mother. Despite Emilie's justified aversion to him, Aramis didn't leave. He waited for most everyone to have departed the immediate vicinity and then went to get a piece of tarpaulin left behind. When he returned to Emilie, he wordlessly laid the canvas down next to her mother's body and waited for Emilie to release her.
Emilie didn't speak to him and he respected that, just silently helped wrap the old woman's body. She then moved away toward her tent and was gone for several minutes. Aramis waited.
Porthos and Vrita took to the air to survey the mass exodus.
Emilie returned with a single knapsack and her white horse. When she bent down to try to lift her mother on her own, Aramis stepped in to do it for her. Still she didn't say anything as he tied the bundle down over the back of the horse.
"I'm sorry," he finally said. "You did the right thing."
Emilie just looked at him, expression numb.
Aramis reluctantly stepped back, and she took the horse's reins and headed off into the woods, alone.
He walked back to Rhaego and climbed into the saddle. Neither Athos nor d'Artagnan said anything.
A few minutes later, Porthos and Vrita returned.
"They've all gone," Porthos reported. He looked around. "Where's Emilie?"
"Headed home," Aramis replied.
Porthos frowned. "Will she be safe?"
"I hope so," he said. "Her power's gone, therefore so is the danger. Now she's…just another girl from Duras."
"You did right by her," Porthos said earnestly.
Aramis snorted. "I took her God away from her."
"Her God was a cruel lie, Aramis," d'Artagnan put in.
"She'll find her way back to Him," Athos added. "The right way. If there is one."
Aramis shook his head as their dragons shifted to take flight. He knew there was a God.
He just seemed enigmatically silent sometimes.
NEXT TIME
The musketeers must deal with an assassin leaving a trail of bodies in an attempt to target King Louis's cousin, Louise, plus Milady's latest machinations threaten to destroy d'Artagnan and Constance.