This is the final chapter. Thank you for the more than one hundred reviews for this story. Now I just have to wait impatiently for season 3 to start to find out what actually happens.
Insurgency
Chapter Thirteen
Anne sat in the spring sunshine in her private gardens watching her beloved son playing with his governess. Lady Helene was very different from Marguerite, being of middle years, plump and of no great beauty. Anne still couldn't understand what had motivated Marguerite to betray her and Aramis and couldn't find it in her to be sorry that the woman had taken her own life in shame.
The boy's wild dark curls framed a face that held all the promise of masculine beauty and his pale blue eyes saw the world as a wondrous place. Except for his eyes he grew to look more like Aramis with each passing day. It was fortunate that Louis didn't notice. The King was totally besotted with his son and had long discounted Rochefort's 'lies'.
It had been a profound shock to see Aramis again. When he left she had been hurt and angry. It had been months before she had the chance to speak to Athos on one of his rare trips to Paris. When she heard Aramis' reasons she could only admire his self-sacrifice. Gradually she had taught herself not to think about him. Now he was back, making her heart beat a little faster. Her love for him had never diminished but it seemed a distant thing; a fond memory to be cherished.
She touched her stomach and smiled tenderly. It had only been two days ago that she had been certain that she was again with child. Louis had been ecstatic although they were waiting for her to pass the three month mark before announcing it. Her pregnancy gave her a unique opportunity to sway the King. She had been appalled by his callous refusal to commission Aramis and vowed that she would do all she could to change his mind.
"Maman, watch me," the boy shouted, running up to her.
"Of course, my darling." She pulled him close for a hug. "I saw your father today," she whispered, seeing the incomprehension in the child's eyes when he pulled away from her. He was used to seeing her and the King together so the statement must have seemed strange.
"Can I go riding later?" he asked.
He had been given his own pony on his fourth birthday and would have spent every hour in the stables with it if he was given the chance. He was totally fearless, and in that she saw echoes of his father. Truly, Aramis had given her the most wondrous gift.
"We'll see."
He accepted that with easy grace and ran back to his governess. Although she dutifully watched him at play her mind was occupied in trying to find the arguments that would sway her husband.
TMTMTM
"I have to report to the Palace," Athos told Porthos the next morning. He looked over to where Aramis sat in forlorn silence. "See if you can do something to cheer him up. And, Porthos, don't let him leave. We'll find some way to convince the King."
"He was talkin' about goin' back to the monastery but I don't think he really wants to."
"His life there is over. I just wish Treville were here. I'm sure he would have more success."
"The King will come round eventually. We'll do what we did with d'Artagnan. Let Aramis tag along while we're on duty. That'll bring him to the King's attention."
"That might work," Athos said. "I must go." He walked over to his horse and mounted swiftly. "Talk to him. Keep him engaged. I'll be back later."
Porthos watched the Captain leave before rejoining Aramis. He pointed to Aramis' sword which lay on the table. "You still remember how to swing that?"
An expectant gleam appeared in Aramis' eyes. "I can recall a thing or two."
"Come on then." Porthos removed his doublet, drew his sword and moved out into the centre of the yard. "Let's see what you've got."
Aramis chuckled and unsheathed his blade, taking up a fighting stance. He quickly found himself hard-pressed by Porthos and was forced onto the defensive. Although the moves came naturally to him, his speed and stamina were missing. Porthos' blade caught his and, with a flick of his wrist, the larger man disarmed him. He stood breathing heavily and looking with some disbelief at his sword lying in the dust. Porthos picked it up.
"Again."
Aramis grasped the handle and, before he could draw breath into his labouring lungs, Porthos attacked. By the time his sword hit the ground for the second time he was feeling thoroughly humiliated.
"You've grown soft," Porthos said, his tone full of affection.
"So it would seem."
His next attempt was better. Porthos still beat him but at least he still had hold of his blade. He held up a hand in defeat. "Mercy, my dear Porthos."
Porthos grinned. "You 'ave a rest and then we'll try some wrestlin'". His grin widened when Aramis groaned theatrically.
"Good morning." D'Artagnan strode into the yard. "What have I missed?"
"Nothing much," Aramis said, lowering his aching body onto the bench. "Just Porthos demonstrating how much I need to do to get back into shape."
"It won't take you long," d'Artagnan said, sitting beside him and pouring a cup of wine.
"I'm sure you're right. Assuming I survive Porthos' enthusiastic efforts to help me."
"You're staying then?" d'Artagnan asked. "What happened with the King?"
Aramis' good mood evaporated. "He refused me a commission."
"What? You can't be serious."
"I'm afraid I am. You will recall he prizes loyalty above all other virtues." Those were the words Louis had said to d'Artagnan before bestowing his commission. "Unfortunately by leaving I incurred his enmity."
"What will you do?"
"I am not yet sure. Athos has said I can stay here for the moment while I consider my options."
"You ready?" Porthos asked. "You're not goin' to get fit sitting around on your arse."
Aramis stood up and looked down at his young friend. "Pray for me, d'Artagnan. I have a feeling before Porthos is finished I am going to need some divine intervention."
TMTMTM
As had become her habit Anne joined her husband for a light lunch. Although they were surrounded by servants this was as close to private as the royal couple came except on those nights that they spent together.
"I have been thinking about your decision to refuse Aramis a commission," she said.
The King frowned. "A King does not give second chances."
"You did with Treville."
"He proved his loyalty by standing up to Rochefort."
A shiver went down Anne's spine at the thought of the man who had almost succeeded in tearing the monarchy apart. "As did Aramis. He was most cruelly wronged by Rochefort yet he returned at the risk of his own life to save me."
"I know you feel beholden to him because of his actions…"
"He saved my life on more than one occasion with never a thought for his own safety."
"That is what I would expect of a King's Musketeer."
"Then why refuse him now?"
"We have been at war for four years. His duty was to fight on behalf of his country but he chose to sequester himself in a monastery."
"It appears he never forgot his duty, My Lord. He fought the Spanish when they invaded French soil. We have lost many men to this war. Aramis is not only a brave soldier he is an accomplished medic and surely his years in the monastery will allow him to bring spiritual solace to his comrades."
"You make a passionate case," Louis said, smiling at her fondly. "If this is really your wish I will make an exception. You know that I can refuse you nothing now."
TMTMTM
Athos loaded his plate with ham, cheese and fresh baked bread. "The King has sent the Spanish ambassador home with an ultimatum. If Philip doesn't propose more realistic peace terms within the next month he will execute Marquez publicly."
"Would the death of one man really mean so much to the Spanish King?" d'Artagnan asked.
"Not of itself, but Spain is losing this war and has already made overtures for peace. Marquez' death would demoralise an army that is already staring defeat in the face."
"He deserves to die," Aramis said, stretching painfully. His wrestling bout with Porthos had been every bit as bad as he had been expecting. He didn't think there was an inch of his body that wasn't covered in bruises.
"No-one disputes that," Athos said. "However, you know how diplomacy works. Marquez will be returned to Spain as a condition of the peace treaty.
Aramis looked at his food and pushed the plate away. "There is no justice in this world."
"Never thought there was," Porthos said.
One of the Musketeers on guard duty at the entrance to the garrison approached Athos and handed over a letter. Recognizing the royal seal, Athos opened it quickly and scanned the content.
"We are summoned to the Palace," he said. He saw Aramis' downcast expression. "You are included in the invitation."
Aramis raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Are you sure?"
"The message is quite clear."
"Do you think the King has reconsidered?" d'Artagnan asked.
Athos shrugged. "Who can tell with Louis?"
The stable boy saddled four horses and they were on their way ten minutes later. They rode in silence while Aramis' stomach tied itself in knots of expectant anxiety. When they arrived in the throne room the King and Queen were already there but Aramis couldn't read their expressions. Numerous courtiers were in attendance as were a handful of Red Guard. After they had bowed Louis stood and stepped down from the dais. He approached Aramis, who found his nerves were now shredded.
"You have a powerful advocate on your side," the King said.
Aramis glanced at the Queen who was watching him with a slight smile on her lips.
"Kneel," the King said. "Captain, may I borrow your sword?"
Aramis dropped to one knee, his breathing shallow. The sword touched his shoulder.
"I hereby commission you into my regiment of Musketeers."
The sword was lifted over his head to touch his other shoulder. He felt the same surge of emotion he had experienced the first time he'd been commissioned and struggled to keep the tears from his eyes.
The Queen joined her husband and handed a pauldron to Athos. "If you would be so kind, Captain?"
Athos slipped the coveted leather over Aramis' hand and pulled it up to his shoulder. "Welcome back, Brother," he said.
The End