Chapter XXXI

Christmas was drawing near, and Elise was busying herself with cooking and preparing a big meal for the Musketeers. It left her little time to reflect on the fact that her parents would not be around to celebrate this special holiday. She had always enjoyed this particular Mass, it filled her with more joy than usual. It was a time for celebration and she was happy to spend it with Aramis. They had grown so much closer these past months; it really felt as if they had known each other forever. He had fixed her in the best way possible.

She was spending a lot of time with her neighbour Delphine. She had offered to teach some reading and writing to her children, which kept her occupied most of the day. Elise had not been feeling well lately, though. It was very cold in Paris, it was either snowing or too cold for snow. They kept fires burning in the house all day long, but she often dreaded lying in her bed as it was freezing under the sheets. Many of the men and women living in their street had been sick. It had also happened to Constance, although she was recovering quickly. Elise did not want to be in bed for Christmas, but the dizziness, the nausea and the pain in her stomach suggested otherwise for a few days.

It was Aramis' turn to be her nurse. He had proved in the past it was a role he handled perfectly. She was fed soup he made himself (and which left room for improvement but she refrained from criticising him) and he held her in his arms to keep her warm. One morning she vomited on him, much to her shame. She spent the rest of that day apologizing. Aramis had seen worse, he simply wanted her to feel better.

A week before Christmas, Elise seemed to have mostly recovered even if some symptoms subsisted. He was reassured. Aramis did not like the snow and the cold, and he could not wait for winter to be over. It was in times like this that he regretted living in the north of the country. During his childhood, they barely had any frost or ice in December.

He came back home from the Garrison one day, his cape on his shoulders and his head down. He would even have been grateful if it had rained instead. He shrugged his shoulders before opening the front door, closing it as fast as he could to prevent the cold air from entering. There was much agitation in his small house. Elise was sitting at the table with Constance and Delphine, a small girl on her lap. Aramis could not remember the names of all the children, there were too many. One was currently sleeping on the sofa by the fireplace, but all the others were running around, screaming and shrieking.

"Ladies," he greeted them, taking off his hat and rubbing his hands to warm them up.

"I take it it's still snowing?"

"Yes, it is. It is freezing."

Elise put the child down, standing up to help him take off his jacket. The children suddenly stopped moving to stare in wonder at his sword and his pistols. The older boy, who had to be about ten years old, stepped timidly closer.

"Is it a real one?" he asked, pointing at the sword.

"It is definitely not made out of the wood! Would you like to see it?" They all nodded enthusiastically. Aramis unsheathed it carefully. The blade reflected the light from the candles. One of the children made to touch it but the Musketeer quickly put it out of reach.

"Be careful. It is rather sharp; you would get hurt."

"I want to have one just like yours when I am older!" His mother shook her head behind them.

"Do you? Well, come by the Garrison in about ten years time and I'll see what I can do for you." Aramis ruffled the boy's hair, sheathing the sword. He was the centre of attention for the entire time the family stayed in the house.

It was dark and there was so much wind outside that it sounded like a blizzard. Aramis joined Elise in the kitchen which had to be the hottest room thanks to the fire, after he had changed out of his wet clothes.

"How are you feeling tonight?" he demanded, sneaking his arms around her waist, pulling her close. The young woman let go of the knife she was using to hold on to his arms.

"I'm still feeling a little bit sick. I'm tired." He kissed her cheek and buried his head on her neck.

"Is it my fault?" Elise felt his lips stretch into a smile against her skin.

"Last night certainly did not help, but no. It's not your fault. I wonder if it's something I've eaten."

"Are you criticising my cooking?"

"I wouldn't dare!" She bit her lip, trying to stifle her laughter. Aramis felt her body shake so he spun her around, gazing into her eyes. She looked exhausted; she looked different. His hand was hot against her forehead. There was no sign of fever.

"Do not look so concerned. I will be fine. Let me get back to cooking or you will eat raw cabbage tonight." The Musketeer made a disgusted face, but went to lean against the door to watch her. "Since you've nothing better to do, could you bring some more logs for the fire?"

She was smiling innocently. Aramis saluted.

"Of course, Madame. Right away, Madame!"

It was Christmas Eve and Elise rejoiced in the fact that she had been spending a lot of time at the Garrison. She was feeling much better. All the people she cared about were around her. Christophe seemed to have been integrated to the soldiers somehow. He was less moody and more respectful. The Musketeers who used to make his life so difficult in the spring treated him almost as an equal. It reassured her. Her uncle was busy as ever, but he found time to eat lunch with her one day. His doubts about Aramis being married were a little lessened whenever he saw his niece glowing with happiness. The Musketeer was different when he was with her than when he was a simple soldier.

Aramis often said that the Musketeers were his first family; Elise was actually beginning to think of his friends as her own family as well. She said so to him when he came back from escorting the royal couple to the Christmas service in Notre-Dame.

"I'm happy to believe so. I know Porthos likes you as if you were his own sister."

"Aramis?" she asked after a moment of silence. They were sitting on their bed, the Musketeer having just taken off his shirt. Elise rubbed his bare shoulders. He was enjoying the soothing feeling. The interior of the Cathedral was always cold and his entire body was numb.

"Yes?"

"If you had to choose one of your friends, who would it be?"

"Do you wish to start a civil war, Elise?" He laughed, lying on the bed to look at her. She wore her hair in a braid on her shoulder, her nightgown flowing around her. There was a small smile on her face. "I could not choose one of them. They are all important to me, you hardly see one without the others. We used to be the three inseparable before d'Artagnan arrived. We're four now, still inseparable."

"We will have to choose at one point, though. We could organize a tournament!"

"What in the name of God are you talking about?"

She lay on her side, her fingers absent-mindedly playing with his necklaces.

"I was thinking Constance could be the godmother because she's my best friend in Paris and it's easy because I only have one, but for you...It will be a tougher choice."

"What godmother? Elise..."

"You are going to be a real father, Aramis," she whispered in his ear. For once he was speechless, staring at her, astonished. He propped himself on his elbows to examine her body better. There he was, the charming Musketeer whose reputation when it came to women used to precede him, and he had not seen it?

"You're...Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"How long? How long do you think?"

"A couple of months I would say, but the sickness made me truly realize what was going on."

"Let me see." Aramis pushed her down on the bed, gathering her shirt past her hips to gaze at her stomach. His hand rested on the white skin. He would not cry. He would not cry because he knew there was a baby inside, a baby who would be completely and officially his. A baby he would hold in his arms without having to look behind his shoulder.

"I doubt you can see anything yet." She was correct, but it did not matter to him. He had to be dreaming, this could not be happening. It was too amazing to be true. His fingers trailed around her navel, watching goosebumps appear. Suddenly he was standing, Elise in his arms. The wooden floor was cold under her feet, but she did not really care. His reaction was what she had expected so she exulted. She was so happy and it had been very difficult to wait like she had before delivering the news. She had wanted to be certain of what was happening first.

"You are a wonderful woman. Thank you."

Elise laughed, kissing him back. She felt the tears on her face before she saw them.

"When we tell them, don't mention the crying."

"Not a word."

Aramis hugged her closer then spun her around in the room.

There were so many thoughts whirling in his head that Aramis hardly slept that night. They had spent hours talking quietly about the future until Elise fell asleep. When he was awake by himself, he looked at his locket, opening it to gaze at the miniature of his son. The Dauphin had changed dramatically since it had been made, but it did not bother him.

"You're going to have a little brother." As a matter of fact, he was going to have two. The Musketeer could not care less about the royal child. His was so much more important. What if it was a girl? He could live with a miniature of Elise running around the house, although she would probably have difficulties finding a husband when she'd be older. Her father already knew he would be fierce with any suitors.

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. The baby was not even born yet and he was thinking about what would occur twenty years from now. He had hated not being able to care for his first-born's mother like he should have or being denied conversations about their son's future prospects. Aramis was aware that he would be the most dotting expectant father in Paris, simply because he had not had the chance the first time around.

Elise moved in her sleep, her hand coming to rest on his leg. She looked perfectly content. Aramis thought back on his doubts when Tréville discovered that they had grown quite close. There had been fear and shame since he was not sure he could give up his previous life for a single woman. She had been right, though, people could change. He would always be a soldier at heart, it was what he had been born to do; his true purpose in life. He would always fight to defend the innocent and the people he loved. This list was simply becoming longer in the best of ways.

Trying not to wake her up, Aramis lay back in bed, his arm around Elise's shoulders to keep her close and warm. They woke up in the same position in the morning. The young woman was tapping his chest to stir him.

"Wake up or we will miss the Mass." It hardly triggered a reaction. "We will have to go to the other side of town to attend another one and I fear that there will be nothing left to eat at the Garrison when we come back."

This threat was enough to make her husband open his eyes. He was groggy, but a smile spread on his face when he remembered what she had announced the night before.

"I will not give them this pleasure." Aramis was on his feet, looking for a decent shirt to wear at church.

Snow had not stopped falling outside. Elise almost fell head first after sliding in the street. The Musketeer did not let go of her arm for the rest of the journey, but it simply made her laugh.

"I like the snow," she declared after they were safely inside the church. "It is pretty."

"And cold. And it turns to mud when it melts. Where does the beauty go, I wonder."

"I remember going for walks with my parents when I was younger and the entire landscape was white. Once, Christophe even threw a snow ball at me with so much strength that I fell down."

"Should I fight him for it?" Elise rolled her eyes, patting his hand.

"It was ten years ago, Aramis. And nobody will fight anyone on Christmas day."

"I could at least throw a snow ball back."

"If you so wish, as long as nobody gets hurt. It is actually a sight I would love to witness: Musketeers throwing snowballs like children! A true Christmas present!"

"You've given me a better present," he said very seriously before the organ started playing.

Although she had always enjoyed this particular mass and the hymns, it felt more special this year. They were celebrating the birth or Jesus Christ and she had just told her husband they were going to have a baby. It terrified her a little, being pregnant and the whole process of delivering a child. However, it was Aramis' and she knew it would be the best.

She would worry about everything else later. Not today.