She could not say as to her motivations for lying with Aramis.
Some part of her believed that it was because she felt empathy for him, over their shared loss. Another knew that it was because, after eight years of barrenness in French Court, eight years of travelling to these rumored waters only to lose her life and nearly lose one of her ladies because of said waters, she was desperate.
She was not so cold a woman as to have slept with Aramis for the sole purpose of that journey, for she had done so to comfort him, and herself.
Perhaps a little of both, but when she had lain with Aramis, she had thought only of comforting him.
She did not choose Aramis to be the father of the next king of France; fate, she believed, had intervened on her behalf, on her thoughtlessness.
Indeed, she was not certain she would have, given the choice. Oh, he was charming and beautiful, and had a certain melancholy about him that drew her, but that was just the problem.
She did not want to see him hurt, and she knew what her actions would cause, should the truth ever come to light. Should she fall for him before it did.
That night, he had been vulnerable, as had she, and, though she may have taken advantage of that vulnerability due to her own, she had done so only to comfort a man that she believed to be hurting, when she could so understand his pain, and, in doing so, perhaps bring a bit of comfort to herself.
It had been sweet love, not like her few experiences with Louis, and she knew, the moment he fell asleep in her arms, as she lay there in the darkness and traced his beard with her finger, that she had fallen for this charismatic musketeer.
There could be no escaping it, and no one could ever discover it, but Anne was in love with a musketeer.
The child had been an added blessing, and one that she had not dared to pray for, especially after seeing the blood on her clothes that day. Truly, a blessing.
Anne never thought she would do something so foolish, though in retrospect, if she were a much colder woman, she would have done it a long time ago.
But at the little nunnery in the country, the excitement and danger mingling with the hurt she knew they both shared, she had sought only to offer and recieve comfort, had thought not of France and of her many years as its barren queen, but of making love to a man who did not flinch from her touch and inspire the same revulsion in her.
She said nothing of her suspicions (even if they were more than that) to her husband until she was absolutely sure. She did not want a repeat of her many previous miscarriages, did not think that her marriage would survive it.
"You are certain?" Louis asked, face rather grave as he remembered all of the other times that Anne had informed him she was with child.
All turning into only heartbreak and further despair.
Anne smiled, dipped her head. "I am. And I am confident that this child shall live to a be great King, and a beloved son, one day. I just...know it, in my heart."
"Wonderful!" The king cried, happily throwing his arms around her, and Anne almost jumped at the touch.
It was so rare that her husband displayed such physical affection for her, after all.
"I am so proud of you, my love," Louis went on, and Anne had to open her eyes again, to ensure that this was truly her husband, her Louis, speaking. Calling her his love.
Years ago, he might have called her that, when the stress of Marie de Medici had finally left him, when she was first pregnant with a child who it was believed would be born living and strong.
He hadn't called her such a pet name in a long time, however.
His happiness was infectious, however, and in the next moment, Anne found herself smiling with him, the guilt she felt at knowing that her husband was not the father of this child ebbing away.
"We shall have a tournament, to celebrate my new heir!" Louis declared then, and Anne smiled despite herself.
"I would like that," she admitted. "Perhaps..." she swallowed. "Perhaps the musketeers could fight in it, for the sake of their future dauphin." She paused, thinking of what the musketeers had told her, of how she had confronted the Cardinal after learning of his involvement in the assassination attempt that had given birth to this child. "Perhaps they could fight against the Cardinal's Red Guard, prove their worth in having to one day defend their dauphin."
Louis grinned. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, my love. Get their blood pumping. And perhaps I might win a few more livres off of the Cardinal and Treville in the mean time."
Anne smiled softly, knowing how well her husband would enjoy that. Perhaps more than the tournament itself.
And there was no reason that Anne could not find a way to enjoy this tournament, as well. It was, after all, in celebration of the child in her belly.
"Let the tournament begin!" Louis called, standing to his feet and taking another sip from his glass of wine. "Whomever wins will have one hundred livres, and the honor of being the first to fight in the name of the next Dauphin of France."
The men standing before them cheered as Louis took his seat on the raised podium beside Anne, nodding to Treville and the Cardinal to ready their men.
"Who do you think will win, my love?" he asked Anne, placing a hand gently, almost nervously, over her belly, and Anne guided it to where she could feel the child kicking.
He let out a little gasp, even as Anne laughed and told him, "I am smarter than the Cardinal and Treville, my dear. I am certainly not going to wager against a man so good at it, especially when he knows far more about such things than I, having much more interest in them."
Her husband smiled, pleased with the compliment if not with the child moving beneath his very hand, not even seeming to notice as the tournament began and two soldiers rushed at one another for the pleasure of their king. "Very well. You are most likely wise not to."
When the first soldier was downed, a musketeer whom Anne had never seen before, Louis let out a huff of breath and gestured for the next two to appear on the fighting ground.
"Might I sit with Your Majesties?" the Cardinal asked suddenly, moving forward from where he stood below them, and Louis nodded eagerly, even as Anne inwardly sighed.
"A wonderful tournament, so far," the Cardinal told them, as he situated his long robes around him, and Louis laughed.
"Do you think you're going to beat Treville already, Cardinal?"
The Cardinal shrugged. "Perhaps, Your Majesty. It is only the second fight, of course."
"Of course. My child is kicking, Cardinal," Louis told the older man excitedly, rubbing Anne's stomach now. "Feel."
The Cardinal glanced at Anne before responding. "I think not, Your Majesty, although it is humbling to know that already, the next dauphin moves within his mother."
Anne squinted at the Cardinal, and wondered if there was a hint of malice in his tone, or if she had merely imagined it.
Louis pouted. "I suppose you're right not to, Cardinal, just as my Anne is right not to bet against me."
The Cardinal glanced at Anne again, but when he spoke, it was of another matter entirely, one Anne had not expected to hear from him. At least, not yet. "Your Majesty, I would like to offer my humble expertise in this matter, knowing many of the greatest houses in France that would offer suitable...help, for the Dauphin."
Anne touched her belly, smiling slightly, before the words sunk in. There was no chance that she was about to allow the Cardinal's loyal followers to have a hand in raising her child.
It was...infuriating, to say the least, that the Cardinal had a hand in choosing those who would watch over her child.
She knew that there must be someone with the Dauphin, always, that servants must always be caring for the Dauphin, but she wished that she could be the only one to care for her son. Or, at the very least, the only one with the ability to choose said help.
With the Cardinal already suspicious of her, and angry that she held such blackmail over him, she knew that he would choose those loyal to him, those who were not loyal to her.
And she did not trust any such person around her son. Even if he was not yet born, she thought, glancing down at her belly.
Louis, however, grinned at this. "That is very kindly thought, Cardinal."
The Cardinal indulged in a rare smile, eyes never leaving Anne. "I live to serve, Your Majesty."
And so it was that Anne was able to assauge the guilt she felt at that moment when she called out, "The Tournament, Your Majesty. Your Musketeers are simply wonderful fighters. You must be proud."
Louis laughed, touching her arm. "And here I thought my wife uninterested in such things," he said, not bothering to notice that Aramis was the musketeer currently beating one of the members of the Red Guard.
She was certain, however, that this was not lost on the Cardinal. He narrowed his eyes at her, but with the King in attendance he could say nothing, do nothing but speculate, and his speculations mattered little.
What she had told the Cardinal was true. She had more influence with her husband than he could ever dream of, and now that she was with child, with the next dauphin of France, there was nothing at all that the Cardinal could do to touch her.
She wondered if Marie de Medici had ever thought the same.
When the musketeer Aramis won the tournament, Anne wondered if fate had intervened once again.
"Welcome, my child," the Cardinal said, in that calm, soft voice that also managed to be cold and disinterested at the same time, and Anne, Queen in name only, swallowed as she shut the door to the confessional behind her.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been five days since my last confession."
She waited with baited breath, the words he had spoken several weeks earlier at a fete at the forefront of her mind, her worry that he no longer shared her interests freezing her, keeping her from saying anything more.
She had written to her brother in Spain, who urged her to put a child in her belly, for the French King, though nothing more than a child himself, was sickly, and if he were to die without an heir, Anne would be sent back to her homeland in disgrace, and the throne would go to Louis' younger brother Gaston, leaving Marie de Medici in power for even longer.
It did not suit Spain's interests for Marie de Medici to remain the Regent of France for a day longer than necessary, and it certainly did not suit Anne.
Her brother was urging her to do something, but Anne had no influence with her husband, who seemed more interested in his hunting than he did with her, and, on the days when he was sick, being consoled by his mother rather than his wife. She had no friends at Court, and she was strangled in every attempt to reach out to anyone by her power hungry mother-in-law.
All of these things were motives for what she was about to do, of course, but they were not the reason that she was here.
She could hear Cardinal Richelieu humming on the other side of the thin barrier separating them. "Tell me of your sins, my child, that I might absolve them."
Anne swallowed. "I...would know that I have your silence first, Father."
A pause. "As a confessor, I can speak of your words to no living being."
"You came to Court as Marie de Medici's confessor," Anne pointed out. "I would know if your loyalty to her is still as great today as it was then, before I continue."
A sibilant hiss. "As I have said, no living being will no one of your confession, not from me."
And she knew, then. Knew that the Cardinal, the same man who had risen to power as Marie de Medici's successor, liked her just as much as Anne, at the moment.
That was a dangerous man, a dangerous ally.
But Anne had no others, not at the moment.
Anne nodded. She was making her bed; she could lie in it later. She had dealt with Marie for years, and this was, she knew, her only chance to stop the torment she'd endured for so long. Her brother could not help her, and Louis would not. "I have...been covetous of something which is by rights mine, but is not mine. This has made me think uncharitable thoughts about a woman whom I should surely consider family. And I...have allowed these thoughts to turn towards darker ones. Ones that have...disturbed me greatly, of violent intent."
There was a long pause, and she wondered if she had gone too far then, but then again, words spoken in confession could not be used against her. Unless this was more than just a confession, of course. Anne had just enough time to begin worrying over that before Richelieu spoke again. "Of what things are you coveting, my daughter?"
Anne bit her lip. "Justice," she said finally, and glanced up at him through the barrier.
She thought she saw him smile. "That can be taken, child, with the Lord's forgiveness."
"There is little more that we can do for him. He is...fading, even now," the physician said gravely, as he stood before the King and Queen in the hall just outside the Cardinal's chambers. A moment's hesitation. "The Cardinal wishes to speak with Your Majesty."
Louis rallied himself, wiping at his eyes. "Of course." He took a step toward the door.
The physician cringed. "Pardon, Your Majesty, but the Cardinal wishes to speak with the Queen. Alone."
Louis' head shot back toward Anne, who felt certain that she had done a poor job of concealing her surprise. She nodded, stepping past Louis and into the Cardinal's chambers, ignoring for now Louis' petulant cries of being the King, and the one far more cherishing of the Cardinal, as she gently closed the door behind her.
The Cardinal did not look at all well.
Until this moment, she had not quite believed that he was dying, that things were quite so dire as the best physicians of France all made them out to be.
He lay on his over-large bed, body looking dwarfed in comparison, sallow cheeks sunken in so deeply he already looked dead when Richelieu's yellow eyes turned to meet her own. He tried to sit up then, and fell back weakly on the bed, looking for all the world like a weak old man, wasting away, and not the First Minister of France who had struck such terror into so many hearts.
In the dim light of the chamber, he looked like a ghost.
Anne stepped forward, hesitant now, feeling as though she were intruding into a place where she did not belong, regardless of his summons.
"I...wanted to speak with you," the Cardinal rasped out, and Anne blinked at him, rather surprised.
His lips were caked with dried blood.
She knew that he was ill, though he had been trying valiantly to hide it since the poisoning. The doctors believed that he had recently suffered an affliction fo the heart, and that it had burst and was now rapidly filling his lungs with blood, but Anne knew better. Whatever had happened at that trial, Anne recognized the signs of poison when she saw it, and knew that the Cardinal had not long for this world.
She admired that he was hiding it, though. Admired that he was able to, when she might have been sobbing and secluded in her chambers, at the knowledge that the end of her life was near, especially if she ever committed as many heinous acts as Richelieu had.
She had been praying for his soul nearly every day, in the palace chapel, when she could not make it to her normal place of prayer.
Louis was despondent, and he needed her with him as much as possible, now.
"Speak with...me?" she asked. "Wouldn't you rather speak with the King?"
Though she wasn't quite sure it was worth it, to question the Cardinal's actions of late. He had tried to be rid of her completely not too long ago, and had been working with Treville, a man whom he seemed to consider his greatest enemy, days later to help her.
His actions and their motives were as dizzying as always.
The Cardinal began coughing then, great spurts of blood into a white handkerchief, and it was some time before he answered again. "I know...I know about the letter your brother sent you."
Anne stiffened, though not quite from surprise. The Cardinal knew all, and she simply wondered how she had been betrayed. Noticing the look of alarm in her features, Richelieu reassured, "I did not begrudge you opening it. I read it first, and determined that there was no reason to show it to the King. I am sorry for your loss, Your Majesty."
Anne looked away from him, his own suffering reminding her all too well of the loss she had incurred, and of how she had not even been able to be there with her little brother in his final moments, and yet was here with one of her greatest enemies in his.
The Cardinal let out a choking laugh, then. "You no doubt would rather hear that from anyone but I."
Anne shrugged ineloquently, admitting, "I have not heard it from anyone else."
She had been too frightened to tell anyone, of the contents of the letter, and when finally the news arrived in the usual way from Spain that it's second son had died, she had feigned shock, but Louis had not felt the need to mourn, and had questioned her doing so, when she had not seen said brother in years, as though this meant that she was somehow betraying France again.
She had thought uncharitably of his mother, and how he had still clearly felt something for her, even after banishing her.
"That is unfortunate," Richelieu said softly, "Though the ones we love often are often blinded by their own desires first."
She swallowed, the words reminding her of the days when she had sought this man's counsel. Further reminding her that those days were long gone.
"I am not a child any longer, Richelieu," she told him shortly. "I do not need your lectures."
"Perhaps not," he mused. "But Louis needs you," Richelieu went on, unaware of the dawning pit of horror in her gut. "Especially now, he will need your wisdom to lean on. Most at French Court and abroad do not have his best interests in mind, and he has never truly been made aware of it."
Anne glanced at him wryly. "If he was that able to do so, or if he did ever listen to me, you would not be his First Minister, I assure you."
Richelieu barked out a laugh, but then murmured, "I will not be that for much longer," and began coughing once more. "Your Majesty, I told you that I would never alert the King to your part in the end of his mother's reign of terror. I lied." Anne sucked in a breath of surprise. "I...He has known."
"H-How long?" she breathed.
"Since...the beginning. I believed that it would...help him, to come to terms with the need to show a united front between the two of you. A marriage." He met her eyes once more. "You told me that you exercised a power over him that I would never understand, but I do not think you believed it, even then. I do understand it, and I know that he values your opinion much more than you have believed." Another pause. "Don't give him a reason to doubt you, my lady."
She glanced up, the unexpected feeling of affection and pity - affection for her husband, and pity for this man before her, who claimed to know of love - dying with those words. "I have never done so. I have not spoken a word to anyone else of those letters, and I would not do anything to harm my country, for France is my country now as much as it is yours."
He dipped his head. "I know that. I know that you think that your loyalty is secured. But I have oft found dalliances to be...more dangerous than they are worth."
She lifted her chin, pushing down her nerves. "I don't know what you're referring to."
"That is amusing, for I've known for some time. I did not wish to sabotage you, because I know a little of affection," Richelieu said softly, and Anne wondered when he had learned of that, but he continued before she could convince herself not to ask. "And I do not say this now to hurt you, my child, though you will likely think so. I do it for the sake of France." His yellow eyes met hers, and in that moment, she knew. She knew that he knew all, everything that could destroy her. "When I am gone, France will be weakened. I do not by any means believe that I am the glue that holds France together; I am the bricks. She cannot afford to have the parentage of the Dauphin questioned. Ever."
Anne swallowed, knew what he was asking. "I am not...I do not..."
"I've seen the way that musketeer looks at you. The way you look at him. I've seen how his love can kill the love a woman might bear for another man. That is all of the proof anyone might need to bring France to her knees."
The words sounded like more than just a warning. They sounded prophetic.
"I should...I should go," Anne breathed out, spinning away from him, toward the door.
"Your Majesty," he called out after her, and because she could not deny a dying man, Anne turned back at those words. "Heed my words. Do not weaken France because you did what you had to do to give the Crown a child. You merely did your duty, and you must continue to do so."
Anne's mouth fell open. "I wasn't...I didn't..."
The Cardinal waved a hand, dismissing her half-formed arguments, and Anne was rather glad for it, for she did not know what she would have said, anyway. Denying the Cardinal's words would only speak of her guilt, after all, and she did not think that she was so cruel a woman as to agree with them.
"It was well-played," the man said, sitting up a little in his bed. "You needed a child, an heir, and that time at the convent? It was perhaps the first you were alone with a man who was not your husband in some time. You took your opportunity, and rather well, I might add. He's certainly fallen for your womanly wiles, though I doubt you'd have needed that musketeer to, with his reputation. You only needed a night. Tell me, did the other musketeers watch? Do they all know how a lowly musketeer bedded the Queen of France and stuck her with his seed?"
And Anne knew that she should deny it, even if such a thing would make her look guilty. Knew that, as a queen, she should laugh him off or stalk out. She shouldn't continue this conversation.
But Anne couldn't help what she did next.
She stalked forward, and slapped a dying man across the face.
She gasped at the same time Richelieu did, pulling her hand back and staring down at it in horror, and then up at Richelieu, who had begun coughing the moment her hand made contact with his skin once more, the unspoken words passing between them.
"You see?" he whispered. "Already, you've confused your duty with absurd emotions, and I've only been speaking for oh, a few minutes now. Be very careful in the days to come, Your Majesty. My advice would be to find a way to move the Musketeer as far from you and that child growing in your belly as possible. Before it's too late."
Anne's heart sank, as she realized what he'd been doing, but she lifted her chin defiantly, and did not apologize. "I...will take your words under advisement, Richelieu. Now, I'm sure the King wishes to speak with you."
The Cardinal did not quite smile. "I am sure that he does."
"The King has agreed to help us in deposing of the Queen Mother," the Cardinal told her, as she sat down behind the veil of the confession.
She blinked. "How did you manage to convince him?" she asked, knowing of her husband's great love for his mother, regardless of her many crimes since ascending to his throne.
The Cardinal made a noise of amusement. "The King may love his mother but this most recent act of hers has managed to put doubt in even his heart."
Anne could not imagine that it had been as easy as he seemed to let on, and the thought made her shiver. It had been agreed between the two of them that Anne would convince Louis to name the Cardinal as his First Minister once Marie de Medici was properly disposed of.
When they had achieved what they wanted, the Cardinal would become the most powerful man in France, save for the King, and Anne was not entirely sure that would be a good thing. He was clearly a dangerous man.
"Good," she found herself saying, after too long of a pause. "What must we do now?"
"Nothing," the Cardinal told her, and Anne's head whipped up in surprise. "Or rather, you must do nothing but convince the king that you are a loving and capable wife, willing to give him children. He will have need of your comfort, after Marie is gone. I will handle everything else."
Anne lurched up in her seat. "You would not be in this position were it not for my support, for my brother's support in wanting his sister's child on the throne one day. You would be nothing but another church confessor without me, Cardinal. Do not think to toss me aside as nothing more than a tool for your use."
He cleared his throat. "I would never think of my queen in such a way, Your Majesty."
She swallowed hard. "I want to speak with the King."
Richelieu hesitated for only a moment. "I do not think that would be wise, my lady. He is busy in preparations for our plan. And...I do not think he should know of your involvement. He loves his mother dearly, and may come to resent you for your part in this, since you hardly hold a bond. I will speak to him on your behalf, have him consummate the marriage."
Anne ground her teeth together. "I am not going to thank you."
"Be at peace, my child. I do not ask for it."
She nodded her head. "Of course not. When, may I ask, are these plans to come into place?"
She could almost hear the Cardinal's smile, when he did respond. "I am afraid, my lady, that only those who are involved in the plot should know of such things. It is, after all, a very sensitive plan."
The Cardinal's death was...unexpected, to say the least. There were rumors that the intensity of his work had finally gotten to his heart, or that the wickedness had. Or that their Spanish Queen had orchestrated his death, though, with her blooming pregnancy with the next King of France, few dared utter those rumors about the King.
In any case, it was with some reluctance that the King turned over the task of finding nurses for his son the Dauphin to the Queen, while he properly mourned the loss of the greatest servant to France.
The Queen was more than happy to interview those thought worthy of caring for the Dauphin.
"I always heard he'd cast some withcraft about himself, for immortality," Jeanette murmured as she tied Anne's corset. "He escaped death so many times."
She sounded almost gleeful at the thought of the Cardinal practicing the dark arts.
It was, Anne knew, a thought that many of the common folk shared. She was even aware of quite a few nobles who had loathed the man.
The Cardinal was known for his loyalty to Louis, but also for his vast opposition of the Hapsburgs, Anne's own family, even going so far as to send aid to Protestant nations to deter them. The Church had not stopped pressuring him on this matter, and many had called him a traitor to his faith, though he maintained that he worked only in the service of France until the end.
Anne was not so sure.
But she did know what Lady Jeannette was doing; the Queen Mother had returned to her exile, and the Cardinal was dead; Jeannette knew that all of those years as an antagonist would not put herself in Anne's favor, now. Would not save her from the other woman's wrath, should she wish to wield it.
There was no one left to protect her, no one left to report Anne's actions to.
But then, Jeannette had known Anne for many years, and the Queen would have thought that, by now, the other woman had realized that Anne was almost incapable of anything vaguely resembling wrath. At least, not successfully.
She shook her head. "Nevertheless, the Cardinal was a great servant of France, and I will have no ill said of him in this castle."
She dipped her head, and Anne realized that the girl was getting better at this, at Court affairs. "Of course, Your Majesty." Then she smiled over at the crib where the little Dauphin slept soundly. "But we mustn't focus on such loss, when there is such joy in the world."
Anne gave her a grateful smile, wrapping one hand underneath her belly. "For the sake of my husband, the King, then," she said calmly, glancing toward the door.
Jeannette smiled. "For the sake of the King."
The Cardinal did not tell the King of her involvement in the plot to undermine Marie de Medici's power, and Anne knew that it was the right thing to do, that if he suspected his queen was anything more than a pretty face, he would become wary of her, especially after his mother's control of his life up until this point, but she still felt vaguely annoyed that the Cardinal would get all of the credit for what had happened, along with, in some part, Captain Treville of the Musketeers.
She did not let any of that irritation show on her face, however, especially when the Cardinal calmly suggested that, now that the King and Queen had control of France once more, it would be wise to consummate a marriage that had long gone untouched, for the sake of an heir.
Her king looked startled by the words, glancing nervously at Anne before stuttering out that of course they should do what they could for France's future, and asked the Cardinal to set a date.
Hardly romantic, but then, she did not expect anything different.
I want the Cardinal removed from his office, she wrote to her brother, after enduring a consummation with the eyes of half of France's nobility watching, with the Cardinal watching. We put him there, and now I want him taken from there. He has grown too powerful, and I fear that he may become a threat to me, in the distant future.
The first letter reached her brother without being intercepted. His response reached her without the Cardinal knowing of it.
Send me the coordinates of France's flagships on the English Channel, and it will be done, Sister.
The Cardinal did, however, intercept her response, and Anne lost every bit of power she had thought she would gain with the exile of Marie de Medici with a single letter, as well as the trust of a husband who had only just begun to hold any affection for her.
The King had been inconsolable since the death of the Cardinal. Anne had more power during these few short weeks than she'd had during her entire time in France; the nobles looked to her now, to make decisions on her husband's behalf, as he was too distracted to do so on his own or to notice the amount of power his queen was taking on.
And she couldn't enjoy any of it. Couldn't enjoy the fact that she finally felt like a queen, rather than a prisoner in her own kingdom, for the first time since her arrival in France, because the Cardinal's words haunted her so.
She knew with certainty that, in the moment, she had not been thinking about making an heir for France when she had slept with the musketeer Aramis. That thought had not even occurred to her, but...had she been thinking it? Deeper down, where she could convince herself the thought did not exist?
Damn the Cardinal for his words.
It took her some time, thus, to convince her husband the king to go back to his duties as a monarch. He had a responsibility to his people, she tried, after the death of the Cardinal, no matter how dearly in regard her husband had held the man. Louis had told her that he could not possibly help his people without the help of Cardinal Richelieu, and so, she had only just managed to convince him to attend to his court once more.
The other plan she had put into place had been far easier, and Anne could not resist a smile as she urged Lord Edwin, a nobleman from Paris with much sway toward the Catholic Church, forward.
"Your Majesties," the noble stepped forward on nimble, hesitant feet, bowing before the King. "I understand that the...unfortunate passing of Cardinal Richelieu has been detrimental to the state of France."
Beside her, Louis stiffened, his red rimmed eyes searching the man, suddenly aware, Anne thought, that he did not have the Cardinal whispering suggestions in his ear. "Thank you for your condolences, Monsieur."
"I...If I may, Your Majesty, his passing has left a void in our government that must be seen to before France is seen as weakened by Europe, and before that weakness is taken advantage of."
Louis took a deep breath. "I do not wish to speak of such things so soon after such a dear friend's death."
"Your Majesty, this must be addressed soon-"
"A group has been sent to free one of the Cardinal's most loyal-"
"The Comte de Rochefort is not a man of God, and therefore cannot take the Cardinal's place in the time to come," another noble, this one seemingly braver than the first, stepped forward. "We therefore humbly ask that you choose from amongst those Cardinal Richelieu mentored as his successor, so that the rumors of France's...lean toward that ugly thing of the Hugenots are not given room to fester in the eyes of the Pope."
Louis sighed. "Very well. Mazarin? I think his name is, he was one of those under...the Cardinal's..." his voice choked loudly in the chamber, "special tutelage. He shall succeed him as Cardinal for France, and take up the place that our dear Richelieu left behind."
Anne bit down on her lower lip, nearly drawing blood. All knew Mazarin was as loyal to the Crown as he had been to Cardinal Richelieu. It appeared that her freedom from that man's grasp was not yet complete.
"Something troubles you, my dear?" Louis asked, turning to her in concern.
Anne forced herself to shake her head, "Only, Your Majesty, my motherly concern for the child to come."
Louis nodded. "Of course. Perhaps we shall go and visits the rooms made up for the child this evening."
"Yes, Your Majesty." She didn't say that this wasn't enough. That she hated the very thought of her son in another woman's arms, suckling another woman's breasts, for even a moment. For she could well imagine the Dauphin growing up with another woman as his mother, another woman loving him where Anne could only watch from afar.
She knew this was the course in many French royal families. Indeed, Louis' own mother had treated her son in this fashion, which, Anne privately thought, had eventually led to his coup against her.
She did not want to lose her son in the same way that Marie de Medici had lost hers.
She did not want to lose him at all.
After the court session let out and Louis returned to his rooms with a bit more vigor than she had seen from him of late, she went to her own rooms, brushing aside the idle concerns of the other nobles and calling for Lady Jeannette to be sent to her.
"Of course, Your Majesty," one of her ladies hastened to reply, hurrying away, and Anne wondered at the girl's strange behavior, but she did not have time to wonder long, for Lady Jeannette was not far away, and she came hurrying to the door.
She had been eager to please as best she could since Richelieu's death.
"You called for me, Your Majesty?" Lady Jeannette asked, stepping into Anne's bedchambers, a little bounce in her steps that Anne found rather disturbing.
Anne did not waste her words.
"I am releasing you from my service, Lady Jeannette. You have been a good and faithful servant to me for many years, and now, you ought to be able to return to your family, to move on with your life," Anne told her primly.
"I do not understand, Your Majesty," Lady Jeannette said softly. "I have only ever endeavored to be a good lady to Your Majesty, and to France."
Anne raised an eyebrow. "Nevertheless, you have been dismissed, Lady Jeanette."
"May I ask what complaint you have against me?" Jeannette demanded.
Anne lifted her chin. "You may go, Lady Jeannette. The Cardinal is dead; you have no more games to play here."
Lady Jeannette's forehead wrinkled. "I do not know what you are talking about, Your Majesty," she objected, but Anne only shook her head.
"Get out, you viper," she said softly, not meeting the other woman's eyes, and so not seeing the look on Lady Jeannette's face when she spoke.
She could well imagine it, though.
Lady Jeannette dipped into a bow. "Yes, Your Majesty."
The next morning, Anne looked over this Constance Bonacieux of whom she'd heard so much about, and then gave her a smile. "I think we shall be good friends, Constance."
Constance gave her a nervous smile in turn. "I hope so, Your Majesty."
Mazarin was not at all what she had pictured him to be, in a student of the late Cardinal.
For one, the first time she met him, he sat at a gambling table with the King, the both of them laughing.
She had never seen the Cardinal gambling, as he claimed it to be a sport that was not fit for men of God, but, she imagined that, should he ever have gambled, he would have been quite superb at it.
Nor had she ever seen him laugh.
The King, however, had a great vice in gambling, often giving out more than he should in his losses, though those who played against him never once acted as though he was the losing party.
Cardinal Mazarin, she could see from just a few minutes of observance, was a man of cards, and played his well.
The King had asked if she wished to observe the card playing, for Anne only played seldom, and then when she was sure of her odds, and she had not wished to refuse him, not when she was so full with child that it was rare she was ever allowed from her rooms. Indeed, she had heard the physician and her midwives start to speak of lying-in, and she would take every excuse for a few more days of freedom, could she.
The King said something; Anne was not paying attention, as, just then, the child within her womb kicked against it and she let out a gasp of surprise at the feeling.
Mazarin laughed at whatever it was the King had said, throwing back his head and letting his long hair fall back against his neck.
The kick of the child within Anne's womb seemed faint now; she hardly noticed it as she stared, mesmerized, at the man's hair, jolted suddenly into a memory of Aramis, his own head thrown back as he laughed.
She could not say where she had seen this particular memory, or why Aramis had been laughing so openly in her company, and yet, the mere image in her mind made her face flush.
And then grunt with pain, in a very unladylike manner, as yet another contraction swept through her.
"Your Majesty?" the King turned to her, eyes full of concern. "Is...something wrong?"
She had been reliably informed by the midwife that contractions such as these did not mean she was about to give birth, as she was still a month ahead of full term and often they were simply a false alarm. She should only be worried if they came every couple of minutes, indicating that the child was near.
And she did not want to return to her rooms, to be locked away again in sheer boredom, so Anne simply waited for the pain to pass.
Anne bit her lip as another contraction rushed through her before answering. "I...I am feeling a bit peaked, Your Majesty," she answered grudgingly, not wanting an excuse to be sent to her chambers once more, and this only served to make Louis seem more concerned.
"Perhaps one more hand, and then Her Majesty should retire?" Cardinal Mazarin suggested, and Anne sent him a grateful, though somewhat pained, smile.
The King nodded. "Yes, yes, very good, Cardinal." He glanced down at the cards in his hand. "I have rather a good feeling, about this round."
The Cardinal smiled. "Very good, Your Majesty."
And then their hands were dealt, and Anne watched with more interest than she thought the situation warranted as her husband and the new Cardinal played their next round, for nigh into the next hour.
The King stared, flabbergasted, as the Cardinal won all from him, and those courtiers watching gasped and whispered amongst themselves as the Cardinal took all of the winnings.
"I..." Louis seemed at a loss for words, and Anne would have found the situation amusing if it not was not so dire that the Cardinal should win from the King in such a humiliating manner. "That was...well won, Cardinal. I must confess, I did not understand your last few plays until now."
The Cardinal gave an almost embarrassed smile. "I do not deserve such accolades, Your Majesty, as I fear that is a trick I was taught by my own father, long ago. To make reparations, I would like to give the winnings back to the Queen, for her good grace at being able to stay and watch until this game had ended, when we know her to be tired, merely to indulge the two of us."
Anne blinked in surprise at the words, glancing first at Louis, and then at the Cardinal. "That is a most generous offer, Cardinal, but one that I am afraid I must decline. They are your winnings; you should not be ashamed to lay claim to them."
The Cardinal turned to her then, eyes boring into hers - brown, dark brown, almost black, just like Aramis', such a contrast from Louis', which were hazel - and gave her a gentle smile. "Your Majesty, I must insist."
Anne blinked. "Very well then, if you insist, I shall accept them. I thank you, Cardinal, for your gracious heart."
He dipped his head as Anne stood to her feet and held out a hand for one of her ladies, feeling wobbly on her feet as a wave of dizziness swept through her.
And then she felt water spurt down between her thighs, as yet another contraction claimed her.
(She wondered if the child would have chocolate brown eyes, like Aramis.)