Chapter XLI
The pain had been so excruciating for the past hours that Elise almost did not feel it anymore. Her body was numb, and as she lay on her bed, perspiration soaked the sheet. Her hair was on her face, her knuckles clutching the mattress so tight they were turning white. The midwife was giving soft orders that she was following as best as she could. She only wanted it to end.
It was a relief when the young woman squeezed Constance's hand hard one last time before they heard the baby's first cry. Elise threw her head back against the bed head, exhaling a long sigh. Her entire body hurt. Closing her eyes for a second, a weak smile spread on her face as she listened to her baby's screams. Her friend was grinning as much as she was, happy to see that the newly arrived guest seemed to have a set of quite healthy lungs.
"You seemed to have been quite mistaken, Elise," the midwife explained, her voice sounding far away. "Your baby has arrived rather on time."
At the news, the new mother opened her eyes lazily to see the other woman approach, a moving bundle in her arms. It was gently put in Elise's arms, and she marvelled at how light yet warm it was. Two tiny fists were moving around, some fair hair was barely visible, and her child was still shouting out to the world that there was another inhabitant in Paris tonight.
"Hello, you..." Elise whispered, her finger grazing the soft skin of the person she had to care for. Somewhat, her physical pain had lessened.
There was a commotion outside the door as Delphine opened it to let her daughters out of the room. There was nothing that required their presence or their help anymore. Elise thanked her silently, finding the strength to laugh when she saw four heads appear between the wall and the ajar door. There were her brother, d'Artagnan, Porthos, and her husband, all looking around the room, curious.
"You will not let her have one minute of peace, will you?" Constance complained, rolling her eyes, even though the men's antics were precious. It would always amaze her how such often brutal soldiers could so incredibly soften when their family was involved.
"May I come in?" Aramis asked. Elise saw the look on his face, how it was fixed on her and what was in her arms. She knew that just like he had done earlier, he would not take no for an answer and would probably push his way into the room no matter what. She nodded slightly. His friends opened the door a little more, none daring to come any closer. Aramis approached slowly.
His wife noticed how he was examining them both from afar. His face was so easy to read in that instant. There was plain happiness to see that she was fine, that the baby sounded like it was well, too. Although Elise was glowing despite her pain, it made no doubt that this moment was a thousand times more important for her soldier.
"Don't be shy," Elise prompted as Aramis fidgeted at the bottom of the bed, his eyes fixed on the tiny face barely visible in the white blanket. "Come and meet your son."
At her words, he was on his knees by her side. Very carefully, he raised one trembling hand to the baby's minuscule cheeks and lips. He had settled a little, his cries lessening. Aramis did not dare speak for fear that his voice would quiver too much and he would make a fool of himself. This was his true son, he belonged completely to him. In his heart, the Musketeer had secretly wished for a daughter, much like Elise had done. If the children were to look too much alike, it would have been better concealed if the youngest was a girl. However, now, it still was perfect.
"I hope he'll be as dashing as his father," Aramis managed to joke, standing up to kiss Elise. He felt her smile against his lips.
"With some of his mother's senses and brightness."
"The latter is more likely!" Porthos chimed in. The new parents had forgotten they had an audience, but did not seem to mind.
"I cannot wait to have him humiliate you, then," his friend shot back, smirking. Everybody laughed at the jest, even the one who should have been offended by it. Tension was gone for everyone. "Come on, godfathers." He motioned for them to come in, an invitation that the two other Musketeers accepted gladly.
"You did a fine job."
"Thank you," Aramis and Elise answered d'Artagnan's compliment simultaneously until they realized it was not directed at them but rather at Constance. She was enveloped in the young man's arms as he kissed her. She did not mind one bit. The others focused on the baby who was making his presence known even more.
Elise rejoiced in the feeling of the little boy in her arms, holding him so close it almost felt as if they were going to make one once again. She had no experience with infants at all, but it did not matter. Her heart was telling her everything that she had to do. The fear she had experienced these past months and hours had vanished, leaving room for bliss.
"How are you going to name this charming gentleman?" Porthos inquired, hovering near his best friend. The closest he had come to a newborn was with the royal babies so he had no idea how to react. He was pleased that Elise was not injured any further, pleased that Aramis looked so delighted, but he failed to see what else he could say. "I believe that a strong and powerful name should suit him perfectly."
"Is that so? And does this kind of name happen to be Porthos by any chance?"
"I would not have offered it myself, but since you insist..." The Musketeer smirked at Aramis' question.
"Unfortunately, you only are his third godfather, so I am afraid it would not be proper." Aramis cocked his head, answering with a similar smirk.
It was comforting for Elise to see that they could joke around each other and there appeared to be no animosity between them. She remembered too well what her husband had told her during the winter, when Porthos was so close to figuring out the other's secret and how they had had some heated arguments about it. Everything looked like it was forgotten, which was for the best.
"I may be the third one, I am still the only one paying any attention to him." Porthos gestured toward d'Artagnan, too deeply focused on Constance to hear what was being said.
"Where's Athos?" Elise asked, tearing her eyes from her son to realize the older Musketeer was not with them.
"Certainly finishing the wine to celebrate."
"Thus giving them some space and showing that he is more sensitive than any of us," Constance stated. "This room is crowded and it's making the babe uneasy. Everybody out. Shoo!" she commanded.
Aramis sat precariously on the edge of the bed once they were alone. He was itching to have the baby in his arms, to fill the void in his heart by having a new light weight pressed against his chest. Instead, he smoothed Elise's hair out of her face, gazing into her tired eyes as she looked up at him.
"Your father's name?"
"My father's name," Elise agreed. There was no need to ask the question, they had always known it would be this way. The young woman wished with all she had that her parents were with her to share such a wonderful event. They could not, and although she would never make her peace with this idea, she was determined to keep their memory in her life no matter what.
Exhausted as she was, Elise ended up falling asleep some time after their friends had left the house and they were finally by themselves. Aramis was absolutely not tired. Instead, he did not let go of the baby for one minute. The little boy mainly slept, yet the Musketeer was used to having a baby in his arms so it did not matter to him. He could easily imagine how his heart would mend thanks to his son. His true son, but never completely the only one. He would never be able to forget the other one.
The soldier eventually fell asleep as dawn was rising, the child pressed against him, only to be woken up almost immediately afterwards by cries which quickly turned to shrills. Athos had to be right: Aramis would soon wish for some peace and quiet. Rocking an infant was something he knew, being awoken by constant cries was not something he had any experience in. After all, standing watch in a Palace corridor was miles away from having to care for your own newborn, so tiny and fragile. There was this gnawing feeling that anything could go wrong at any time, even if Elise and him were constantly with the baby.
Aramis did not ask permission to stay at home the next two days. As far as he was concerned, he did not care one bit if it brought him trouble to fail to report to the Garrison. As a matter of fact, the Captain did not even mention his absence the day he stumbled in, his face displaying how tired he was. Elise had been the one showing enough common sense to urge him to take on his duties again. Truth be told, the Musketeer was almost glad, knowing that there was the chance for him to catch some sleep while he would be over there.
"You look dreadful!" Porthos exclaimed, not sounding sorry at all for his friend. Aramis only glared as he slid down on a bench in the courtyard, his head falling on the table. The place was by no means quiet, yet, these noises were more familiar and he never had any problem dozing off there in the past. The clashes of swords, the neighing of horses and the loud conversations caught the best of him.
"Should we let the baby sleep?" a mocking voice asked in the distance. To Aramis, it seemed that he had only closed his eyes for a few seconds. Someone was poking his arm. Raising his head, he realized that the sun was so high in the sky, he must have been out for a couple of hours. Porthos was still laughing at his friend's expense, his fork repeatedly hitting the other's arm.
"Stop it," Aramis mumbled, shaking his arm free. Blinking, he saw the Captain looking down at him, which made he sit up straight. "Sorry, Captain."
"If you're all quite ready, there are new assignments awaiting you." Not waiting for an answer, he walked back up to his office, the four Musketeers close behind. Aramis had to endure the others' endless teasing.
"I would like to see how you would both handle it if you were in my situation," he eventually challenged after d'Artagnan and Porthos would not stop snickering. True to himself, Athos was silent and not taking part in the mocking.
"You're the one who decided to get married and have children, not us! You brought this on yourself!"
"I suppose you will not be joining us tonight either?" the youngest man inquired.
"It depends. Do you plan on going to bed early some place quiet?" The question triggered more laughter, Aramis going along with it. It was better to laugh at his current situation rather than complain too much since it would not improve matters.
"Shame on you, willing to abandon your wife to herself!" Porthos shoved him in the shoulder, Aramis retaliating until they were at Tréville's door and had to behave like proper soldiers.
To Aramis, it seemed that the King talked about his next hunting party months ago. Actually, only four days had passed and the weather this summer was so gorgeous that it would have been shameful to delay it any longer. The hunting lodge in Versailles was still being under too much construction to host such a large entourage as the one expected. His Majesty had set his heart on Fontainebleau, a Palace much further away from Paris, yet a lot bigger and with such a magnificent forest surrounding it that they were bound to make many kills.
"But we have only been back in Paris for a few days," d'Artagnan whined. He wished he could have spent more time with Constance.
"The King has decided that the Dauphin was old enough to start riding lessons so the entire royal family is coming. You could very well be assigned to watch over the youngest prince and her Majesty if you think escorting the King while he's hunting is too much of an hindrance."
"What I actually meant, Captain, is that I cannot wait to be back on the road," the Musketeer added quickly. Tréville shook his head.
"He intends for the Dauphin to start riding?" Aramis could not help but sound afraid. The feeling seemed to be shared by the others so it was quite safe. "He's not even two years old!"
"Would you like to tell his Majesty you so strongly disapprove of his decision?"
"Absolutely not. I would not dare."
"Wise choice. You four will just have to make certain no accident happens or else I would not rate our chances of survival very highly."
Aramis bit his lip. How ever true it was that he could not voice his concerns to his King, it did not make it easier. How was he going to be able to concentrate on protecting the monarch if he knew the heir was in danger? It did not matter that he had decided not to have more private moments with him. He had promised his mother to always watch over him and it was one of these moments when he would more than gladly do so. That the Queen had agreed to such a decision was beyond his understanding, although for all he knew,she may not even have been consulted.
"When are we leaving?" Athos asked.
"It takes more time to prepare Fontainebleau for a royal stay so we've managed to have his Majesty await until the first weeks of August. He asked you to meet with him at the end of the week, Aramis."
"Aramis, special advisor to the King!" Porthos joked, his superior and his friend both shooting dark looks in his direction.
"What could he possibly want with me this time?" Knowing he was about to leave the capital city for some time, he would have preferred to spend as many hours as he could with his family.
"God only knows. But since he seems to have taken a liking in you, you will do as he says. It's not very often that he shows such interest in our regiment these days."
"I sure hope he does not expect this one to teach the Dauphin how to ride. Last time he was out hunting, he ended up spraining his ankle."
Aramis slapped the back of Porthos' head, which did not stop him from jesting and reminiscing on last year's unhappy adventure in Versailles. One part of the soldier actually wanted to be the one commissioned for such a task, though. What better way to make sure everything was safe? Coming to terms with his decision was proving to be trickier than expected.