TW: Anne briefly describes a stillbirth towards the end in a paragraph that begins with "Do you really think your king..."
Would you joke about such a thing?
"I have received an urgent message that requires your immediate attention," Anne declared upon stepping through the main door into his office.
"Oh?" he inquired, noticing that her hands were empty of any letters.
Pushing back his chair, he waited for her to lock the door and make her way over to his side of the desk.
Standing in front of him, she had an impish smile on her face, and her hands were folded over the top of her small bump. "I felt him, Aramis."
"You did?" he grinned, placing his hands on her waist. He looked up at her. "And you truly think it's a boy?" She had talked of securing the line of succession when she told the council she was pregnant, but in private she hadn't referred to the baby as a boy until now.
"Just a feeling."
"It doesn't matter to me though, boy or girl," he added. In the back of his mind he knew a boy would help stave off the threat of Condé seeking power and be more beneficial to France, but Anne's well-being was more important to him, and he didn't want her to feel pressured. And beneficial to France or not, he really would be just as happy to have a daughter. "I just want you both to be well."
Cupping his jaw with her hand, she brushed her thumb against his cheek as her eyes became watery.
Turning his head slightly, he pressed a tender kiss to her palm. "So what will it be, a Christmas or a New Years announcement?"
"Christmas, but I'll tell the council once we return though. For now, I just want to keep it between the two of us."
"You mean the three of us," he lightly corrected with a raise of his eyebrows before leaning closer to her stomach. "Keep growing stronger, little one," he encouraged, and planted a kiss on her belly.
MMMMMMMMMM
Due to Louis' age and inexperience, the tour only lasted a few weeks. Traveling East and then North, they passed through major cities, stayed at various nobles' grand estates, and went out to garrisons located along the eastern front. With winter upon them, the fighting had come to a standstill while both sides took the time to regroup and prepare for the coming months.
Anne and Louis received great fanfare when they paraded through the cities. And when riding behind their carriage or walking with them to Church, Aramis was able to observe the faces of the people who lined the streets and cooed at Louis' tiny form and gasped at Anne's beauty, which was made even more radiant by her pregnancy. She had made no formal announcement yet as planned, and the clothes she wore somewhat obscured her figure, but now and then she would put a hand to her stomach and he watched as people began talking into each other's ears and eyeing her form with suspicion.
Paying calls to nobles was his least favourite part. They paid him the respect owed to his position, especially when Anne was near, but he could tell many of them did it begrudgingly, and when they weren't ignoring him, they were showing off their wealth, heirlooms, or family connections. During the course of the planning for the tour, the nobles they were to visit had been made aware of Anne's condition-if they hadn't heard the gossip already-and when they bestowed their lavish gifts upon Anne he learned to make himself scarce. On top of all that, he and Anne had to sleep apart when staying at their grand estates, though that aspect was unfortunately the same for any place they stayed.
The part he was most comfortable with, and as it turned out, the part Louis came to enjoy, was when they would go to review the regiments. The soldiers respected Aramis more with him being a former musketeer. When given the chance they told him of their troubles, of their losses, and the supplies they needed. In turn, he told them of his own past experiences, and gave them advice along with the promise to take their concerns to the Queen Regent. As for Louis, his interest in soldiering and warfare was only heightened by what he saw and heard of the operations that went into carrying out a war.
Many of the soldiers tended to be wary of their Spanish queen, and Aramis even caught a few sneers as Anne passed by, but they'd falter once they noticed his glare. Anne had her own charm though, and her kindness and genuine interest often won them over, and while Aramis and Louis were shown artillery and fortifications, she would go to visit the sick and injured. There was also the fact that Anne's caravan came bearing supplies, which certainly helped to ease tensions and ensure a more favorable view of the tour from the soldiers.
Having stayed behind to continue work at the garrison with the new cadets, as well as to keep an eye on things in Paris, d'Artagnan and Constance met up with them at Laon the evening before they were to set out to Athos and Sylvie's home in Saint-Gobain.
At dawn the next day, they quietly left the city and their retinue behind, with instructions for Louis and Anne's attendants to travel on to Amiens, where Aramis and the royal family would rejoin them in a few days before making their way back to Paris.
They were about a half hour away from their destination when three riders appeared on the road ahead coming towards them. The largest of the riders wore gleaming armor and Aramis knew who it was before he could even make out his face. The smile on d'Artagnan's face when he turned to him told him he recognized the riders as well, and Aramis nodded for him to go and meet them.
"Stop the carriage," he ordered, and then turned his horse around in time to see Anne, Louis, and Constance poke their heads out the windows. "Majesty, I believe one of your generals is riding toward us, along with his aide and a local landowner."
Minutes later, Porthos, Brujon, and Athos came to a stop next to the carriage, with d'Artagnan bringing up the rear.
"Your Majesties," greeted Athos, looking as bright-eyed and buoyant as Aramis had ever seen him. "Please allow me the honour of escorting you to my home."
"Lead on, Athos," Anne happily replied, "and take us the quickest way."
"With pleasure, Your Majesty. Constance, it's good to see you," he added, and then moved aside so Porthos and Brujon could pay their respects and say their hellos.
Moving to the front of the procession, Aramis fell into step with his brothers and they continued on to their destination. After answering their questions regarding his health and recovery, he told them of the tour so far and how well Anne and Louis were being received.
"I would have liked to meet Condé, but apparently we just missed him. He's returned to Paris for the winter in order to spend time with his friends and lovers and to revel in all his glory."
"My lieutenant, Longueville, is the same," said Porthos. "He wants to return home to his duchy, to go to Paris for New Year's, grumbled about me going out to see you lot for a few days. Orders from the Queen Regent, I told him, and then I ordered him to stay with the men while I was gone. He can go home once I return, get him out of my hair for a bit."
"Another pompous prince, I'm assuming?" Porthos never said much about his lieutenant in his letters, always sticking to the facts and more general descriptions of how he and his men were faring.
"The man cares nothing for those beneath him and is always questioning me, thinks he knows better because he was tutored in warfare since he was a boy. He's even gotten on Brujon's nerves," he said, tiling his head back towards Brujon, who was catching up with d'Artagnan behind them.
"I know the feeling," said Aramis. "The other ministers are always talking down to me, always saying 'This isn't how it's done' and shooting my ideas down before they're barely out of my mouth. The Queen makes them listen though, and supports me as much as she can."
"Sounds like you work well together," said Athos.
"We do." Aramis met Athos' eyes and gave him a half smile in thanks.
Athos nodded and then informed them that they would be reaching his home soon.
"So what made you settle here?"
"Yeah, I thought you'd have to be kidnapped again to come anywhere near Pinon," jested Porthos. "It's only what, less than an hour away?"
Athos looked to both sides of the wooded road they were on. "The forest surrounds Saint-Gobain and stretches down to Pinon. I'd accompanied my father on several hunting expeditions through these trees as a boy. With the war still going on, I didn't want to travel too far East. Our home is on the outskirts of the village. It's secluded, but not completely cut off from civilization."
"Does Sylvie know how close you are to your old estate?" Aramis tentatively asked.
He took a few seconds to answer. "Once I admitted to being familiar with the area she started asking questions...and when she wants answers, she gets them."
"So she's aware why you left?" The baby was the main reason for coming to see them, but Milady was also weighing on his mind. He had to tell Athos where she was and who she was working for before he found out that she was sleeping with him, or so they were leading people to believe.
Athos bowed his head. "She was...upset, understandably, but we talked."
"Everything's all right between you, then?" asked Porthos, voicing Aramis' own concern.
"It's an adjustment, building a life out here," he admitted, "but a wise man once told me it's the greatest cause I'll ever have." He looked behind at d'Artagnan, still in conversation with Brujon, and then settled his gaze on Aramis. "And we're there for each other."
Aramis nodded, happy for his friend to have found a new purpose, to have opened up his heart to love again. It made him sorry to bring up the woman who broke it. "I should warn you, if you ever intend to visit Paris, Milady is there."
"What?" came Porthos' exclamation from Aramis' other side.
Athos stared at him for a few seconds before blinking. "I know."
"What?" said Porthos, even louder.
"Oh," said Aramis, but his relief only lasted a moment. "How?"
Athos faced forward. "When we returned from rescuing you from Grimaud, she was there in my office, but I left her when I realized Sylvie might be in danger. I was done with her after that, before that really, and I never wanted to think of her again, let alone speak of her." He looked at Aramis. "Is she causing trouble?"
"The opposite, actually. She's working for the Queen. Apparently Tréville hired her right before he was killed."
Athos raised his eyebrows. "Tréville hired her? To be a spy for the crown?"
"Among other things."
"Gaston."
"Yes."
"You mean it was the Queen who had him killed?!" Porthos pressed in a sharp whisper.
"Grimaud took the King for him," Aramis retorted. "And my son could have been killed, if not for you and Tréville getting him out of there."
"But what if it gets traced back to the Queen? You'll have more than old men and grieving fathers trying to get rid of her."
"It won't."
"You're playing a dangerous game."
"It was dangerous, but it wasn't a game. It had to be done, to protect the King, to protect France."
"You sound just like him," said Porthos.
"Who?"
"The Cardinal," Porthos answered coldly, and then peeled off to ride behind them with d'Artagnan and Brujon.
Sighing, Aramis looked over at Athos. "Go on and scold me."
Athos pouted and shook his head. "It's already done. What else is there to say about it?"
"It wasn't an easy decision, I will say that. And it's not something the Queen plans on doing again."
"This...arrangement, it has been working so far though?"
"Yes, surprisingly well," he replied. He met Athos' eyes. "She was there that day, at the garrison ceremony. She stopped the one who shot me from getting away. It may be for her own selfish reasons, but she's looking out for the Queen and I."
"I should have told you all that she had returned, but I will tell you now: Sylvie knows...about you and the Queen, about the King. She knows everything."
Aramis looked ahead. "Not everything, my friend. Not yet."
MMMMMMMMMM
"Oh good, you've brought us some farmhands," Anne heard Sylvie shout as the carriage came to a stop. Looking out the window, she saw Sylvie walk up to Athos' horse, one hand on her hip, the other resting on the small but definitive swell of her belly.
Aramis and d'Artagnan helped them out of the carriage next, and while Porthos and Brujon took care of the horses, Athos and Sylvie formally welcomed the rest of them to their home.
The cottage looked small and simple, but she supposed it was all Athos and Sylvie needed, or wanted for that matter. And as she looked around the little clearing they were nestled in, she found herself imagining what it would be like to live here with Aramis and their children; how Louis would run outside to see Aramis when he returned from a trip to the village, and she would wait in the doorway for Aramis to close the distance between them with Louis on his hip and lay a light kiss on her lips in greeting.
Once the carriage and the few royal guards that had accompanied them left for the village, Athos started to talk about some of the exterior work he and Sylvie had been working on, including a lean-to for the horses, and a small garden area.
"I'm not sure if there's a single green thumb between Athos and I," said Sylvie, crossing her arms in front of her, "but I suppose we'll find out in due course."
"When I return to Paris I'll have my gardener send you his advice and perhaps some seeds to help you along," offered Anne.
Athos gave her his thanks, but Sylvie tilted her head to the side, her expression thoughtful. "The palace has its own fruit and vegetable gardens, doesn't it?"
"Yes, to provide for the kitchen."
"But they don't cover the whole of the grounds or even a large section of them?"
"No," answered Anne. "Compared to the rest of the grounds they only cover a small portion."
"Have you considered turning your leisure gardens and great lawns into something useful-"
"Sylvie, now's not-" Athos interjected, but Anne held up a hand.
"Please." Anne encouraged Sylvie to continue: "What do you suggest?"
"Grow more food," Sylvie simply said. "Build ovens and make bread. It doesn't have to be permanent, but it would help bring relief to the people of Paris, especially the refugees."
"I wouldn't be opposed to such an endeavor," said Anne. She looked over at Aramis. "I'm sure the council will find some reason to object though."
"Perhaps we can offer them all fruit baskets," Aramis proposed with a grin.
As Porthos and Brujon rejoined the group, Athos started to tell them of the few chickens they had acquired and the coop he had been fixing up for them.
"Their egg production seems to have slowed down recently," stated Athos. "I'm told it's because of the shorter winter days."
"Oh, I get like that too," Aramis professed.
"What? You don't lay as many eggs?" cracked Porthos, making them all laugh.
"Metaphorically, yes," Aramis countered, and as their friends continued to laugh, he met her eyes before briefly lowering his gaze to her stomach. She gave him a subtle nod. It was time they revealed their news.
"Have you collected today's batch yet?" asked Aramis.
"Not yet," Sylvie answered, "we were too busy preparing your rooms."
Aramis got on one knee next to Louis. "Sire, would you like to help d'Artagnan collect eggs from the chickens?" It had been discussed in the course of planning this trip that if Louis wasn't tired enough for a nap that either d'Artagnan or Constance would stay with him while they talked to Athos and Porthos.
"I believe Brujon could use some help taking the saddles off the horses as well," added d'Artagnan, smartly taking Brujon away from the house as well as enticing Louis with his favourite animal.
She gave Louis' shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He'd stuck to her side since they arrived, probably still taking in the new location and shy of the people he might only faintly remember, but he had grown to like d'Artagnan almost as much as he liked Aramis, and soon nodded his head yes.
Leaning down, she gently turned Louis' face towards hers. "Aramis and I need to go inside and talk to our friends, but we want to hear how many eggs you collected once we're all done, all right?"
Louis nodded again, and as d'Artagnan stepped closer, Aramis stood up. Stepping between Anne and d'Artagnan, Aramis whispered, "Sylvie knows."
Her eyes flickered over to the woman, she had been wondering why Aramis hadn't included her in the egg-collecting group, and Sylvie's gaze was indeed focused on Louis. They were going to leave it up to Athos whether or not to tell her about them, but apparently he already had. Perhaps he had done so for the same reason they were now here; he didn't want to keep secrets from someone he loved.
"What do you think, Sire, horses first?" asked d'Artagnan, and with that he walked off with Louis and Brujon, leaving Athos, Sylvie, and Porthos with expressions of confusion and concern on their faces.
Aramis gave her a reassuring smile when she looked at him, and they proceeded to walk into the house with the others, including Constance, who would be there for support.
They gathered in the parlour. It was small and sparsely furnished, but with the fire going and surrounded by people she trusted, the room felt safe and cozy.
"Now that we're all together, Anne-" Aramis grinned sheepishly as he took her hand, and her heart fluttered at hearing him use her name in front of their friends "-and I have something to tell you all."
"I'm with child," Anne announced, smiling nervously at everyone before looking back at Aramis.
Porthos' jaw dropped, but it was Athos who broke the silence that had descended on the room.
"Very funny," he said with light sarcasm. "It was very kind of Your Majesty to humour Sylvie."
She turned to Aramis and matched his confused look with her own.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I had a dream…" Athos trailed off, looking at a wide-eyed Sylvie, who slowly shook her head as the fingers at her lips fell to her necklace.
"We're not joking, Athos," said Aramis, bringing Athos' attention back to them.
Blinking, Athos looked to Anne's stomach, whereupon she smoothed a hand over her skirt, outlining the small swell beneath it.
"I wish things could be different," she began, "but in order to maintain the King's legitimacy, I've informed the council that my late husband and I were together shortly before his death, and I'm far enough along for it to be believable." She paused, her gaze falling. "I'm sorry to ask you all to keep another secret for us," she finished, and Aramis gave her hand a supportive squeeze.
Constance stepped forward and laid a hand on Anne's arm. "We're all here for you, Majesty, we're family."
MMMMMMMMMM
They had lunch next, and though Anne was offered a seat at the head of the table, she turned it down, wanting to sit on the bench next to Aramis, and with Louis sitting on his lap they truly felt like a family. With both Louis and Brujon at the table they couldn't be openly affectionate though, and they still had to watch what they said, but Aramis was perfectly content to sit there with Anne pressed up against his side and her hand resting on his leg under the table while they all regaled each other with their recent exploits. And once all the food was eaten and the plates were cleared, Sylvie and Athos were presented with the baby gifts that had been set aside for them months ago.
"Marie-Cessette was given some clothes as well," Aramis informed Athos and Porthos while they stood drinking around the fireplace. D'Artagnan had gone outside with Brujon to do some sparring-with Louis tagging along to watch-and the ladies remained sitting at the table. "But at the rate she's growing, they probably won't fit her in a few months." He looked to Porthos. "The Queen says she'll be tall."
Porthos only nodded in response.
"The King looks to have grown as well," commented Athos.
"He has," said Aramis proudly. "He wants to start riding a bigger pony."
Next to him, Porthos tossed his drink back and set his cup on the mantle before mumbling something about his horse and leaving the two of them to go outside.
Frowning, Aramis looked to Athos. "Probably just thinking about Elodie and Marie-Cessette," Athos suggested. "I'm sure he misses them."
Aramis nodded. They had been invited, and d'Artagnan and Constance had offered to bring them directly to Saint-Gobain, but Marie-Cessette had only just gotten over a cold and Elodie understandably didn't want to put her through even a short trip, especially during winter.
"There will be other visits," Aramis said, directing their gazes over to Sylvie, who had taken Athos' seat at the head of the table, and was chatting away with Constance and Anne. "In a few months there will be a new family member to meet." He looked over at Athos, who was smiling softly as he looked upon the scene.
"And a few months after that a royal christening to attend?" Athos turned his head slightly to quirk an eyebrow at him.
Exhaling, Aramis folded his arms in front of his chest and nodded. He'd been so concerned with the news getting out, he hadn't really been thinking that far ahead, but Anne was nearly halfway through her pregnancy already and their child would be arriving with great fanfare by the end of the spring.
It was a huge weight off his shoulders now that all his brothers knew though, and he took great pleasure in being able to not only celebrate his and Athos' growing families, but to simply return Anne's smile when she looked at him from across the room.
"They're magnificent, aren't they? Carrying our children and making it look easy," Aramis said aloud.
"They are," Athos agreed, and in his peripheral vision he saw Athos turn to him. "Aramis, I'm sorry."
Aramis tore his gaze away from Anne to meet Athos' eyes, which were full of sincerity. "Sorry for what?"
"I didn't realize what it meant, what I was asking of you, not fully, at least. To deny your child, to deny your love for the Queen. I've only known of my child's existence for a few months, I can't even feel the kicks yet, but that pull, that need to be there and protect them, to watch them grow...it must have driven you mad to stay away."
"It did, and I gave into the madness instead of listening to you like I should have."
"I should have been there for you."
"You were."
Athos shook his head. "No, I mean I should have done more than just berate you, I could have passed on messages or news of their health, maybe even arranged for you to see them-briefly-when the Dauphin was ill instead of making you go out on a mission."
"And then you would have been suspected of being his father," Aramis lightly pointed out. "You did what you thought was right."
"It shouldn't have taken me having a child of my own to understand how hard it would be for you."
"Athos, the way you acted then, I know it came from a place of love, from a need to protect, and I can only ask that you forgive me for not being more honest about what I was going through."
"I got you the new job, didn't I?" Athos replied dryly with a slight raise of his eyebrows.
Aramis stared at him for a second before chuckling and clapping a hand on his arm.
Athos tilted his head. "I had thought you and the Queen would have been more…"
"Chaste?" supplied Aramis.
"Careful," Athos amended. "But I would be lying if I said my child had been planned." He put a hand on Aramis' shoulder. "I am happy for you, Aramis, truly. I still implore you to be careful, but I'm glad things have worked out for you."
Aramis nodded, grateful for his words, for his friendship.
D'Artagnan and Brujon came inside then, and brought Louis over to Anne. Aramis watched as Brujon talked to Sylvie while standing in an awkward half-bow until Anne spoke up and invited him to sit. He could tell the boy was still hesitant about flouting protocol and acting so casual around Anne, but once Constance patted a spot on the bench beside her, he gave in and sat down.
"So, I leave him under your watch and this is what happens?" Athos asked once d'Artagnan came over and joined them.
"What, you thought he'd listen to me more than he did you?" d'Artagnan frowned and shook his head. "There's only one person in the world he'll listen to-" he held up a finger and pointed to where Anne sat at the table "-and she's sitting over there."
Aramis nodded. "Yes, but d'Artagnan, I have to consider the possibility of facing the wrath of your wife's fists if I don't do as she says."
Athos and d'Artagnan gave exasperated smiles at his teasing, and Aramis gave a quick grin of his own, but Porthos' absence from their banter began to weigh on him and he found himself looking out the front window.
With a nod to his brothers and a quick glance over to Anne and Louis at the table, he followed Porthos outside.
He was leaning on the paddock fence, looking down at his clasped hands, and made no acknowledgement of Aramis' presence when he came up next to him. Aramis laid a hand on the fence. "Why don't you come back inside? We came all this way to see you."
"When did you start sleeping with her again?" Porthos asked, still looking down at his hands, "After the King died? Or were letters not the only things exchanged during those secret meetings in the middle of the night?"
"After, of course," answered Aramis, affronted. Was this what was bothering him? Was he still sore about him meeting with Anne without telling them? Or did Porthos think that he hadn't told them the whole truth?
"Right then, so you get appointed First Minister, become the most powerful man in France, a country at war, and you spend, what, the first week with your breeches around your ankles?"
Exhaling, Aramis tried to stay calm. "Porthos, we were trying to end the war before the King died, that's all those meetings were. We're still trying to end it, but we've also had to prevent a civil war."
"Tréville lost his life doing that."
"Yes, the first time. We stopped Gaston from starting another one."
"So long as Condé doesn't decide to turn his army around, but you got distracted by ponies and the Queen's bed before you could think that far ahead," Porthos shot back.
"Fine! I also spent that first week and every week since with my son and the woman I love!" he retorted, his temper rising. "What did you expect me to do? Ignore them?"
"I thought you'd have learned not to make the same mistake with her."
Aramis shook his head as he put his hands on his hips. "Loving her was never a mistake."
"Sleeping with her was."
"Then she wouldn't have had the Dauphin," Aramis wearily replied. "And the Cardinal would have found another way to get rid of her, alive or dead."
Nodding, Porthos' gaze fell to the side. "Yeah, lucky for her that you were at the convent that night," he said in a low voice.
Aramis narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?" He had heard him, but he wanted to be sure of what Porthos was implying.
Porthos looked back at him. "You're always there when she needs you; when she needs a messenger, when someone's pointing a gun at her, when she needs a child-"
He grabbed the front of Porthos' doublet, pushing him up against the fence. "Don't you dare!"
Porthos swiftly shoved him off. "Open your eyes, Aramis! No wonder she wanted you to be first minister, to have you so close by!" he determinedly continued. "At her beck and call!"
"You have no idea what you're talking about!"
"No? I know she tells you to jump and you ask how high."
"She is the Queen," Aramis smartly replied, earning himself a growl of frustration from Porthos. He put his hands back on his hips and dug his fingers into his sides. He had to try another angle to get at the true source of Porthos' anger. He couldn't believe he'd think such things of Anne. "Look, I'm sure you'd rather be with Elodie and Marie-Cessette-"
"Don't bring them into this!"
"But you chose to leave them, just as I chose to stay and be with my family!"
"Then go and be with them! Go! You stopped caring about what I had to say the moment she tied that crucifix around your neck," Porthos said bitterly, and then turned his back on him and started walking away.
"Porthos!" Aramis called out after him, but Porthos kept on walking.
MMMMMMMMMM
"Athos can't feel the kicks yet," Sylvie informed Anne and the others sitting at the table.
"Don't worry, before long you'll be able to see the kicks," Anne told her.
"Really? They're that strong?" Sylvie's look of wonder turned into a grimace. "That sounds uncomfortable."
"Mainly when they punch inward or settle under your lungs. But it's quite a sight to see your belly move; to see a small lump travel from one side to the other or possibly pushing with both feet, a little creature trying to get out." Looking down at her son in her lap, she tickled his sides, making him squirm and giggle. "It's wonderful though, really," she was quick to add. She'd spend whole mornings in bed just watching Louis move around when he got to that stage, and she couldn't wait to be able to share those moments with Aramis.
Athos and d'Artagnan came over to the table then, and she leaned over to ask d'Artagnan where Aramis had gone.
"Outside to talk to Porthos," d'Artagnan answered with a hint of unease.
She pressed her lips together and nodded. She had noticed how quiet Porthos had been after the announcement, and worried that he hadn't taken the news well but that he wouldn't say anything to Aramis in front of her. Sliding Louis off her lap to sit him next to d'Artagnan, she got up and went over to the window. She could see Aramis and Porthos by the paddock. Judging by their posture, it didn't seem to be going well.
Grabbing her shawl, she left the cottage and began to make her way towards them when Porthos gave his final remark and started to walk away. Aramis shouted after him, but it was no use, and giving up, he turned around and started heading back to the cottage. She held up a hand once he spotted her, and as she passed him, touched his arm and said, "Let me talk to him," before following Porthos' retreating figure.
"Porthos?" she called as she walked past the lean-to, but he took several more steps before finally stopping near the edge of the forest and turning to face her. His eyes widened and before she had time to contemplate his expression or why he went to grab his pistol, three men appeared from the trees behind him and he was cut off as he began to say "Majesty" when one of them clubbed him over the head with his pistol.
She went to shout his name again as he crumpled to the ground, but a gloved hand suddenly clamped over her mouth and she felt something sharp pressed into her back. "Open your mouth again and we'll kill him," said a low voice in Spanish.
MMMMMMMMMM
She was led into the forest.
They soon reached a fork in the trail and the man who held her by the arm spoke to the other three in Spanish to stop and wake Porthos up. They had been carrying him until now; two had him by the arms and the third held his legs up. They hadn't gone far, but Porthos was a big man, and she assumed wherever they were taking them wasn't nearby.
After laying him down, they took his pistol and then turned him on his stomach to retrieve his main gauche. He hadn't been wearing his sword, or his armor. Next, one of them pulled out a thin pair of shackles from his pocket and with the other men pulling Porthos' hands behind his back, clamped them around his wrists as he started to stir.
A groan emanated from Porthos and he slowly turned onto his side. Blinking, he looked around, and when his eyes settled on her, they shot open, darting between her and their captors. With some difficulty, he got to his feet, swaying a bit before steadying himself. He shook his head and, narrowing his eyes at the man holding her, went to charge forward, but was swiftly stopped by two of the men grabbing ahold of his arms.
The man holding her let out a chuckle and gave a command in Spanish to bind her. Porthos looked at her sharply, his eyebrows tightly knitted together, and with the knife still at her back and the warning not to speak still fresh in her mind, she let go of the ends of her shawl which she had been clutching onto and brought her hands together at the wrists to show him what they said. Porthos looked to the man currently taking off the length of rope that had been slung over his shoulder and across his torso. Twisting his body, Porthos turned to one of the men holding him and head-butted him, causing the man to let go as he stumbled back. Wrenching his arm out of the other man's grasp, he charged forward again, knocking the man with the rope to the ground.
"Ah, ah, ah," the one holding her tutted. The leader, she supposed. He looked to be the oldest of the group and the other men all looked to him for orders. While still holding onto her, he stepped behind her to her other side and then she felt the edge of the cold blade against her throat. Porthos froze while she held her own breath and tried not to move.
"Let her go," Porthos pleaded, the two men having regained their hold on him now. "You've got me, you don't need her."
"We need her...to get you to talk," the leader explained, switching to French, and took the small knife from her throat to point at Porthos with it. "But not yet." He nodded and strips of red fabric were produced, the first which they tied around Porthos' mouth, and then the man with the rope came over to her and did the same before tying her wrists together. She noted how he wouldn't meet her eyes.
The leader returned to her side, she could see him out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze straight ahead, her chin raised. "Don't worry, General, we don't want to kill or maim her, we'll just...give that lovely hair a trim." She felt him brush his hand against her hair and she shivered. She had chosen to wear it down while they were at the cottage. "Though I warn you, I'm actually quite clumsy with this," he explained, holding up his knife. "She might get nicked here and there, especially if I have to get close to the scalp." He gave her a leering smile. She noticed how well-kept his facial hair was, but she wasn't sure if that should make her feel better or worse. "But first-" He took her shawl and then went over and dropped it along the other path, to lead anyone looking for them the wrong way, she realized to her dismay.
Quickly, she began to slip off one of her rings, but hesitated to drop it. She had managed to drop one when she was first captured, but back near the cottage she had grass beneath her feet, here there were crunchy leaves and hard roots and rocks.
"Let's go," the leader said, and they all started walking, but after only a few steps Porthos seemed to trip and fell over, landing on his shoulder and rolling onto his back with a muffled grunt.
While the men holding him made noises of complaint as they righted him, she said a silent prayer and dropped the ring. Thankfully, it landed in the dirt at her feet without attracting anyone's attention, and she quickly took a small step forward to hide it under her skirt while the leader walked up to Porthos.
"Still a bit woozy, General?" he asked, his smile and his tone both condescending, and gave Porthos a couple pats on the cheek before a hard final slap. "We need to keep moving," he said, his expression turning serious. "I hope you won't hold up the rest of Her Majesty's journey." Porthos glared at him, but ultimately nodded.
They continued walking further into the forest, and Anne willed her legs to stop shaking as it was clear now that these men knew who was in their possession. They didn't wear typical Spanish uniforms, probably to avoid detection-but they were certainly soldiers. A scouting party, perhaps, but what they were doing this far into France she did not know. What she did know was that they were going to torture her to get Porthos to divulge information about the war.
They continued walking for another hour or so until the scent of dried meat hit her nostrils. She buried her face in her arm to stop herself from retching as they stepped into a small clearing, where on one side was a set of large rocks where their captors had made camp. Here were the rest of their weapons, their horses, and small traps for the game now hanging from a line between the trees. Near the center of the clearing was where they'd set up stones and twigs for a fire, and she was certain she saw broken egg shells on the ground near one of the stones.
They pushed Porthos to the ground and allowed him to maneuver the chain of the shackles under his bottom and legs so that his arms were now in front of him. More rope was retrieved and Porthos, still sitting, was then tied against a thick tree, the rope wrapping around his torso. Once he was secure, they removed the gag from his mouth. "What's this, your winter retreat?" he asked sarcastically, looking around.
"Yes, please excuse the state of it, Your Majesty," the leader taunted, holding his arms out and bowing his head. "We didn't have much time to make it fit for a queen, but please, come inside." He gave a sharp tug on her rope then, and she stumbled forward.
"Hey!" yelled Porthos. "You can't pull her around like that!"
"We can do whatever we want with her."
She met Porthos' eyes and he quickly dropped his gaze to her abdomen before looking back up at her in question, and she knew what he was thinking, what he was asking. Putting a hand on her stomach, she nodded.
"She's with child!" Porthos shouted.
The posture of their captors immediately changed. Arms were lowered, jaws dropped, and eyes darted from her stomach to their leader.
The leader kept his eyes on Porthos though. "A ploy."
"It's not," Porthos insisted. "Just look at her."
"Héctor, there is some swelling of her belly," said the man who had bound her hands.
The leader, Héctor, finally turned around and eyed her up and down before pressing his hand to her abdomen.
"I said look, not touch," growled Porthos.
She had taken an involuntary step back when Héctor touched her, but she steeled herself and stepped forward, pressing herself against his hand while she leveled a hardened gaze upon him.
Héctor removed the scarf from her mouth. "How far along are you?"
"More than four months," she swiftly answered. "The child has quickened only recently."
Héctor scoffed. "Of course it has."
"Do you really think your king, my brother, will reward you for capturing me?" she asked before they could gag her again. "For hurting me, for putting my life and the life of my child at risk? Tell me, have any of you ever witnessed a stillbirth?" She looked each of them in the eye and was glad the only response was Héctor crossing his arms. "Well I've lived through one and I can tell you it's just as bloody and horrible as being on a battlefield. I'll scream and carry on through the labour pains and deliver a baby that's already dead. There will be no air in his lungs, no blood pumping through his veins and he'll turn blue and cold and stiff. As for me, I might bleed out, I might get an infection, or perhaps my heart will simply give out, and then you might as well be signing your own death warrants."
Héctor sighed and then met her eyes. "It would be wise then, to cooperate with us so that you and your baby can return to Paris, so that we can all return home to care for our families," he softly reasoned, switching back to Spanish. "Surely you want to end this war as we do, to put an end to the bloodshed. We don't have to do this," he said, and gestured between her and Porthos. "We can simply escort you to our General and you can bring peace to our countries."
"I cannot," she answered. As tempting as the idea was, she and Aramis had discussed this, and the council frequently reminded her that they could not have a separate peace with Spain. They had to involve their allies and assure their support would not go unrewarded.
"You won't speak in your mother tongue?"
"My mother wanted me to be the Queen of France, and that is what I am." That was another reason she had to conceal her great eagerness for peace, she could not risk appearing too, well, Spanish. There was also the fact that Porthos didn't seem to understand much, if any, of the language, and she needed him to know what was going on. "I will not be offering any terms of surrender to your General, nor will I betray my soldiers if you interrogate me," she looked to Porthos, "and neither will General du Vallon."
Porthos stared at her for a couple seconds and then gave her a minute nod in confirmation.
"No?" said Héctor. "We'll see about that." Stepping behind her, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and her head was momentarily yanked back. A second later he was standing next to her, scratching his chin. The knife was back in his hand. He turned to Porthos, who was struggling against his bonds. "It hardly looks like I took anything off, don't you think?"
Anne slowly looked down, and at her feet was a lock of her hair.
Historical background/inspiration:
-"Condé returned in triumph to Paris for the winter, but in 1645, after the defeat of Turenne by Mercy, he again took the field" -Daniel Coit Gilman, Harry Thurston Peck, and Frank Moore Colby, The New International Encyclopedia Vol. 5
-I got Saint-Gobain from Ruth Kleinman's biography of Anne of Austria that I frequently reference. In it there's a description of Anne's income, which includes the domains of La Fére and the forest of Saint-Gobain. Checking it out on Google Maps, I saw there were some hermitage rocks which I thought would make a great campsite.