Many people have posed the question of how Louis went from believing Rochefort was spouting lies to being convinced Anne had slept with Aramis. I'm sure there were a few things that happened in the ensuing 4 year gap that made him wonder, then suspect, then conclude. This is my take on how that happened.
Two Plus Two…
War was boring.
It was an unexpected revelation, especially from a monarch's point of view.
While Treville kept him informed of the results of the battles and allowed him to appear to be in charge of the country's plan, Louis knew the war was being readily managed by his Minister and generals, his input more or less a courtesy, welcome but not necessarily needed or heeded. He wasn't quite sure how to react to that, but since Treville afforded him the luxury of feeling as if he was still making the important decisions, he decided not to call him on it, knowing the Minister had enough on his hands without needing to soothe his King's deflated ego.
Besides, after spending all those months being duped by Rochefort, Louis was more than willing to take a step back and allow others to take the blame for how things progressed, trusting Treville to make certain nobody would hold the crown responsible for Spain's plan almost succeeding.
War was also expensive – which wasn't much of a surprise – but it put a terrible damper on things.
Treville had cautioned him to avoid hunting parties and celebrations of any kind, explaining that a King could not act as if everything were normal when he had declared war. The country's coffers must be made available for weapons and soldiers lest they run short of ammunition or horses or food. Louis had argued a King could do anything he wanted with his reserves of gold, and Treville, patient as always, had agreed but pointed out it might not be taken well considering the sacrifices his subjects were being forced to make.
Louis hated it when Treville made such sense. If he had realized it would put such a constraint on his fun, he would have never let his anger at Spain rule his judgment.
But Spain had overstepped. Sending Rochefort to Paris had been underhanded and completely without scruples. The man had wreaked havoc amongst the court, tricking him into signing the Queen's death warrant – an act he hoped would never come to light under public scrutiny. Though it was known a king was infallible, agreeing to murder his wife because of a couple of unsent letters and other unsubstantiated accusations was something even a king would have trouble explaining.
Anne seemed to have forgiven him, though. At least she seemed to understand the terrible strain he'd been under. Rochefort had poisoned him, dulling his senses, attempting to manipulate him into doing things he knows he would've regretted for the rest of his life. That life would have probably been quite short, Treville had informed him. Once Rochefort had convinced him to kill the Queen and the Dauphin, he would have had little use for Louis, either keeping him drugged and defenseless in order to usurp his power, or killing him out right and taking the Regency for himself.
Either way, France would have fallen to Spain and his legacy would have been as the fool who allowed one man's lies to take down an entire monarchy.
And they were lies, Treville had assured him. The Spanish Spymaster – Vargas – his testimony had convinced Louis of Rochefort's treachery. The Musketeers had managed to bring him to the palace just in time to save the Queen – and quite possibly Louis' crown – and he was grateful. Treville's four men were probably the only reason France still stood, and he assured them all he would not allow Rochefort's accusations and lies to sway his mind again.
But hadn't he always heard that the greatest lies were built on small truths? He could not help but wonder if all of Rochefort's accusations were falsehoods. He'd seen the way Anne looked at the Musketeer Aramis…
But no. He would not allow himself to even consider it. His wife and son were safe and the country strong. Rochefort's lies would not have a hold on him any longer.
The thought of his son made him smile. Perhaps he could seek them out and they could pass some time together. Thanks to all that had transpired, they had spent so little time as a family as of late.
With a purpose, he made his way toward the Queen's apartments. She had requested new rooms, claiming the memories of Rochefort's attack haunted her lavish residence and the Dauphin would soon need more space of his own as he began to crawl and walk. Louis had readily acquiesced to her request, ordering the workers to remodel the east wind to the Queen's specifications. Despite Treville's previous warnings about spending money unnecessarily, the Minister had not remarked about the work, deeming the Queen's peace of mind a fitting use of coin.
As he approached the Queen's sitting room, Louis noted the doors were open and the guards who normally stood watch over the Queen and their son had been dismissed. Curious, he slowed, approaching quietly, frowning at the murmur of female voices he heard coming from within.
"He insisted I return it to you, Your Majesty." The voice was familiar and it took Louis only moments to recognize the young woman who had been in Anne's service before marrying the Musketeer d'Artagnan.
"Thank you, Constance." Anne's voice was soft, sad. "I suppose it is for the best."
Louis stepped inside the room and both women looked up, startled at the unexpected intrusion.
"Madam d'Artagnan," Louis greeted as they stepped apart. Constance bowed at the sight of the King, while Anne quickly dropped her hands into the folds of her skirt. "Do what do we owe the pleasure?"
He'd never bothered to get to know the young woman before, but since Rochefort had almost managed to have her beheaded for something she had no part in, Louis had decided he could make an effort. She was, after all, Anne's friend and the wife of his champion Musketeer. He knew she had been privy to most of Rochefort's manipulations and could only hope her discretion would remain binding due to her affection for the Queen.
"Your Majesty," Constance rose, smiling tentatively as she glanced at Anne.
"Constance was simply returning a piece of jewelry I had lost," Anne explained. She held up an ornate silver cross, encrusted with rubies and sapphires. "I had no idea it as even missing." She turned to Madam d'Artagnan and smiled. "Thank you, Constance. I hope I will see you despite your busy schedule."
"Of course, Your Majesty." Constance curtsied. "I must return to the garrison before the recruits destroy the place." She bowed again to the King and hurried from the room.
"The garrison?" Louis asked, watching as Anne crossed the room to a table and laying the cross on top. She treated the necklace reverently, almost as if it was blessed by God himself.
"Yes," she responded as she turned and made her way back toward the door. "Constance is helping Treville with the new Musketeer recruits at the garrison while Captain Athos, d'Artagnan and the others are away." She took a deep breath as she stood before him. "You rarely come to my rooms, Sire. I am honored. I was just about to go see our son. I was informed he said his first words today." Her smile blossomed at the mention of the child and Louis could swear the sun was shining brighter through the windows. "Would you like to accompany me?"
Louis returned her smile and offered her an arm, "I would be delighted."
The war may have put a damper on his spending, but time with his son was something beyond price.
Mmmmmmmmmmm
Two years later….
Louis sighed and rubbed his chest, frowning at the ache that had begun to take up residence. The war was going as well as could be expected, although Louis had never anticipated it taking so long. He had visions of his army swooping down upon Spain's troops, one decisive victory after another, quickly making their way to Madrid and forcing Phillippe to surrender.
But it had hardly been so simple.
For every victory they celebrated, the Spanish would attack on another front, leaving French soldiers dead and wounded, destroying supplies and forcing them to readjust their strategy. Treville had told him this was the way of war, but Louis had never thought it would be so tedious, believing the glory and prestige of battles won would fill the streets with cheers and ovations for their sovereign. Instead, the people were growing angry, tired of the fighting, wary of the prospect of Paris falling to the Spanish army.
Treville had reported news of the Spanish troops beginning to muster along the northern border in Flanders, brought north by ships fresh from their fight with England. France was winning more battles in the south and Treville had suggested moving some of the more experienced troops north to meet the new threat.
"But will we be able to hold our southern borders if those men are reassigned?" Over the years, he'd become quite adept at how a war was waged. Listening to Treville, learning the strategy of how and why men were placed had made him a better leader and now Treville lent more credence to his thoughts and opinions. Louis couldn't help the flush of pleasure he felt when Treville smiled with undisguised pride at his question.
"Some of the new Musketeer recruits are ready to be deployed," he informed them. Both Louis and Anne were present in the great hall today, the Queen stating she would like to keep informed of how the war progressed even though he'd insisted it was not something she need worry about. Anne had reminded him that it was her brother they were fighting and her knowledge of him and his way of thinking could possibly be of some help. Though he doubted her contribution, he had allowed her to begin sitting in on some of the meetings with Treville and the council, eventually allowing her to attend one or two in his place when he had not felt up to dealing with the mundane dealings of politics. Anne had proved to be a fitting substitute, keeping him informed without the need for him to have to sit through all those boring briefings the military minds loved to carry on about.
He much more enjoyed spending time with his son. Now that the Dauphin was walking and talking, he was great fun to play with and Louis reveled in every chance to teach him and show him the palace and all that would be his one day. He could already tell the boy would be a great king. He was smart, and curious and so full of life, it made Louis feel better just to be near him.
He hadn't told anyone about his constant coughs nor the tightness in his chest, at first thinking it was just a simple case of consumption that would pass when the warmer weather of summer arrived. But summer had come and gone and the ache had gotten worse. He knew he should inform his doctors, but knowing his family's history had given him pause. He had been blessed to have escaped the family curse – unlike his half brother Phillipe whom he had made Governor of Paris. It was nice to have family near. It comforted him. And Philip was one of the few family members he could trust.
Anne was not as enamored with the man, and she did not approve of the Daupin being left alone with him, but Louis liked him well enough. He sat at his right hand as Treville briefed them on the latest developments.
"I suggest we send Captain Athos' unit north to meet with General Lantier They can deal with the threat from Flanders while the new recruits and the bulk of the army hold the south. If we station men near Lille and Douai, I believe we can head the Spanish infantry off before it can make foothold in the territory."
"Douaii?" Anne asked, clutching the silver cross she had taken to wearing around her neck. "Isn't there a monastery near there?"
All three men looked to her with various expressions of curiosity, confusion and concern.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Treville hastily responded. "But I don't believe it will fall into the path of the fighting. Besides I doubt your brother would consent to spilling blood on holy soil." He gave her a grim smile. "I believe the monks will be safe for the time being."
Anne returned his smile, a look of relief flittering briefly across her face. Louis frowned, unsure why his wife would be so concerned about some monks. He shook his head. Anne was always worrying about the innocents caught up in the war. He reached over and patted her hand, giving her a conciliatory smile.
"I'm sure Treville is right, my dear. The monks will be fine."
Anne nodded graciously in return, grasping his hand in her own. He turned back to the map, but not before he saw the flash of apology she directed toward Treville.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Louis stepped out of the carriage, his eyes wide as he took in the hustle of the men flittering about the Musketeer garrison. No one had taken notice of him yet, and he found himself able to watch as the young men ambled to and fro, brushing the big black horses that had been recently delivered and practicing their skills in the yard. Most of them seemed quite able to hold their own with swords and Louis had to admit the new men seemed ready to take their places amongst the soldiers in battle.
With Governor Feron's Red Guard taking the bulk of the responsibility for keeping order inside the walls of Paris, Treville had reluctantly agreed to allowing the more experienced Musketeer recruits to be commissioned and assigned to various units in the south to allow his seasoned men to be brought north to face the new threats. He had decided to stop by and see for himself, wanting to bathe in the gratitude of the men he allowed to become official members of his elite guard.
Madam d'Artagnan exited the small office at the top of the stairs, her attention on the sheaf of papers held in her hand as she started down. She made it to the first lading before she noticed the carriage just inside the archway. Her eyes widened when she saw Louis standing beside it.
"Your Majesty!" she called, effectively stopping all movement within the walls of the garrison. As the recruits fumbled over themselves to come to attention, Constance hurried down the rest of the steps and scampered across the courtyard, dropping to a bow directly in front of the King.
"Your Majesty," she repeated, slightly winded from her dash. "It is an honor to have you here."
"I felt the need to see the recruits for myself before giving them my leave to join the regiment," he explained, his eyes darting from man to man. "Treville insists they are ready. Do you agree, Madam d'Artagnan?"
Constance rose, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "I… um… Oh yes! Of course. The recruits have been working very hard, Your Majesty. Minister Treville is quite satisfied with their progress."
Louis nodded, pleased that his presence still invoked such reactions of awe in his subjects. He looked around the wooden structures, wondering how these men managed to survive in such a dreary place. "And is there anything you might need, Madam? I would have the finest for my men." He said it loud enough for the nearest soldiers to hear, having learned from Treville that it never hurt to let the commoners believe their King was looking out for them. He didn't quite catch the woman's response and waved a dismissing hand with a smile. "Of course, just let Trville know what it is you require and he will see to it."
Constance nodded and stood quietly, expectant.
"Has there been any word from your husband?" Louis inquired. "Or his friends?" It wasn't that he cared if the woman had been corresponding with d'Artagnan, it was a different piece of information he was after. "They are all fighting together, correct?"
Constance smiled sweetly. "I received a letter from d'Artagnan just this week." She blushed. "He is well as are Porthos and Athos. I will let him know His Majesty asked after them when I write him in return. He will be pleased."
"Of course he will," Louis agreed. "But were there not four of them? What was the other one's name? Aramis I believe?"
Constance nodded. "Yes, but Aramis is not with them. He resigned his commission before the war. He retired to a monastery."
"Ah yes," Louis pretended to remember. "It was near Douai, was it not?"
"Yes, your Majesty."
Louis' smile hardened. "As I thought." He turned abruptly and stepped to the carriage, waiting as the steward hurried to open the door. "Thank you, Madam," he called back over his shoulder. "I will inform Trville to send a list of the new commissions."
Without waiting for a response, Louis settled himself back into the carriage and ordered the driver to return to the Louvre.
Mmmmmmmmmmmm
Two years later still …
Louis laughed as his son rode his pony along the path, leading his governess on a merry chase. He was a born horseman, his son, and his happiness shined in his eyes every time he laughed. Louis loved the boy with all his heart, but there were times his smile, his laugh reminded him of someone else. Someone who made his blood run cold.
Over the years he'd seen Anne gazing out across the gardens, idly playing with the cross she now constantly wore around her neck. He had started to push her away, unable to look at her, convinced of her guilt of betrayal. He had never confronted her about Rochefort's accusations, Treville convincing him she had suffered enough at the hands of the Spanish spy and urging him to reconcile with her for the sake of the child and France. He had readily agreed at the time, knowing he had been hasty in his decision to have her executed, allowing Rochefort to play on his insecurities and almost making the biggest mistake of his life.
But was it a mistake? Was it all lies?
Over the years he had become convinced the former Comte's allegations had substance – at least in one regard.
He saw the look of longing in her eyes, knowing it wasn't for him. She had been a respectful wife, a dutiful Queen, a doting, loving mother, but he couldn't find it in his heart to forgive her. It didn't help that the ache had taken up permanent residence in his chest, his disease advancing far more quickly than his physicians had predicted. He hadn't told anyone as of yet, commanding the doctors to remain silent, not wanting anyone to think him weak.
He would have to tell Treville soon, the Minister needing to know why this war had to end sooner rather than later. He had planned to tell Anne, too. But not now. Not now that he had returned.
The Musketeer. Aramis.
Treville had informed his of the Musketeers' return to Paris late last night – Aramis along with them.
Apparently he was not cut out to be a monk – a revelation that should surprise no one.
He'd told Anne of their return that very morning hoping to garner a reaction. She had not said a word. Simply left the room quietly. Was that an admission of guilt? And what would he do if she did admit it?
He smiled as little Louis had hugged him from behind, his soft curls tickling his cheek.
"Are we going to play today, Papa?"
"Of course we are, my dear sweet boy," Louis responded affectionately. "And I have a wonderful surprise for you."
As the child squealed in joy atop his new mount, Louis let his eyes shift to his wife, standing on a balcony above the courtyard. She was smiling as she watched their son ride, but Louis couldn't help but wonder if the smile was for someone other than the child.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
A few months later…..
"I slept with Aramis…"
Louis had known it for a while, but was still surprised how actually hearing the words could stab at his heart. The Musketeer had all but admitted it when they had been alone in the crypt, and Louis had wanted his head then and there. But Feron's death had forced him to realize he was not in a position to demand it. Hurting Aramis would hurt his son, and that was one thing he would not do.
"He is the father of our son, but in blood alone…"
Blood was all that really mattered. The child was not a Bourbon. Louis would leave no legacy, no heir. The boy's laughter rang in his mind and Louis found his anger gone. He was out of time. He'd spent the last four years being angry, petulant, pushing Anne away for a mistake she had made out of loneliness and fear.
Aramis had been right. He had been trying to protect his king.
Did she still love the Musketeer? He didn't dare ask, not truly wanting to know the answer.
Theirs was never a marriage based on love. It was duty. She had performed hers admirably.
It was true; they had been friends once. He had trusted her words, trusted her counsel. Did this all change because of one mistake?
He didn't think he could forgive her, but he doubted she could forgive him either. They had both failed their vows, but was that so unexpected? As she stood before him, pleading, assuring him she would not let him be forgotten, he found he truly did believe her. Not matter who had planted the seed, the boy was his son – the only one he would ever know, a Bourbon in all but blood. Was that enough? Could this lie masquerade as reality?
He was sure Treville knew the truth… perhaps even the other three Musketeers… but they would never risk the truth becoming known for the sake of their friend. Was it for the best?
He looked into her blue eyes and saw compassion and honesty… and maybe even a hint of affection.
For him.
And he found he could live with that.
And perhaps even be content to die with it.
Fin.