I must get to the Queen

Aramis had looked crazed when d'Artagnan came to fetch him; his face pale and his eyes wide and alert. More than once he ran a hand through his already rumpled hair as he recounted how the Queen's pains had started late last night and that he'd been up with her for the past several hours, only returning to his rooms once the Queen had alerted the guards.

Once Aramis was calmer and more presentable, the two of them had collected the King and brought him to see the Queen so that she could reiterate what was going on and give him assurances that she would be all right. In their preparations, they had decided that he and Aramis would stay with the King and take him outside or to a far part of the palace while the Queen was in her travail, the Queen not wanting the boy (or Aramis) to hear her in pain, as well as to keep Aramis away and distracted.

The latter part, however, was proving easier said than done, for Aramis was with them out on the palace lawn in body, but definitely not in spirit. Whenever someone came out of the palace or walked through the gardens, Aramis' eyes followed them, looking for some indication, d'Artagnan assumed, of how the Queen was faring. Constance was supposed to come to them once the child had been born, but he was sure Aramis worried that something would happen that would keep her with the Queen while some messenger was sent with dire news in her stead.

"Aramis," he said, walking over to his friend while the King played with his very large puppy. "I'm sure they're fine."

Turning his back on the palace, Aramis exhaled heavily as he crossed his arms and nodded his head. D'Artagnan continued to watch him though, and after a couple of seconds Aramis looked over at him. "What?"

"Were you like this the last time?" he asked, trying to recall what Aramis' behavior had been like the day when the King was born.

Aramis frowned. "Not so much," he answered, returning his gaze to the King. "I was worried, of course, and wanted to be with her, but I think the Cardinal's death gave me some relief and assurance that God was watching over us."

D'Artagnan remembered the irony of the Cardinal's funeral happening the same time as the Queen was finally giving birth to an heir, something the man had thought her incapable of and had given as a reason for trying to have her assassinated. They had indeed all been in good spirits knowing he wouldn't be a threat anymore.

"But I also hadn't spent hours helplessly watching the love of my life clutch at my hand and double over in pain," Aramis added, "so I suppose I was a bit blissfully ignorant of a few things." He sighed. "And then there was our assignment…" He trailed off, but d'Artagnan remembered where they had gone, and more importantly, who they had met that day. "It took us miles away from Paris but..."

"You wish we had never gone," d'Artagnan finished for him, and Aramis nodded while he continued to watch his son play.

MMMMMMMMMM

Anne had been her usual poised self when Constance got there; pleased to see her and kindly asking for her to take over from one of her ladies in walking around the room with her.

"The pains started during the night, and my waters broke early this morning," Anne had informed her, answering Constance's unvoiced question as to what one of the maids was cleaning up on the floor. "Dame Peronne says I still have some hours to go."

That was already two hours ago, during which time two other maids prepared the bed under the supervision of the midwife, Dame Peronne, while her deputy set up a birthing chair next to the bed on the side of Anne's prie dieu. For the rest of the time, Anne's maids stood to the side, nervously waiting to be called upon to fetch food, drink or fresh supplies, and the midwives merely kept note of the length and time between Anne's pains, and would help her to the bed periodically to check the baby's progress. Doctor Delorme had arrived soon after Constance, and spent most of his time chatting with his assistant by the fireplace, and Anne's ladies also chatted amongst themselves near the other side of the bed. Anne had explained to her beforehand that Delorme would step in once the child was ready to be delivered and only earlier if there were issues. As for her ladies, they were supposed to provide her with company, but Anne had only wanted Constance to talk to her about Nicolette and the latest news of their friends.

Anne had also briefly talked to her son when Aramis and d'Artagnan brought the sleepy boy in, but it was once they left that her mask started slipping. What began as gasps and hisses of pain turned into moans and groans, and her features seemed to barely relax before tightening again. The pains were definitely coming closer together, and as Dame Peronne and her deputy brought Anne over to the bed to examine her once more, Constance noted how even the way Anne was walking had changed, with her legs bowed as if she had just gotten off a horse after a very long ride.

Sitting next to Anne on the side of the bed, Constance fluffed Anne's pillows behind her and then took her hand while Dame Peronne went back to the small table with her supplies and rubbed her hands with oil. Meanwhile, two of the maids held up a sheet over Anne's legs to protect her modesty. There was a gathering crowd of courtiers outside, waiting to hear news and witness the child being born. Constance hoped that some would become bored and leave, but every time someone went in or out of the room, the crowd appeared to grow in number.

"Doctor Delorme," Dame Peronne called over from where she sat on a stool in front of Anne's parted legs. "It's nearly time."

MMMMMMMMMM

They were playing fetch with Sweetie, or trying to, as the puppy would chase the tennis ball after it was thrown but then fail to bring it back, and so when Louis threw wide and the ball rolled down the main path, Sweetie ran after it, and being the closest, Aramis follower after her.

He soon found the ball, but Sweetie was further up ahead poking her head in the flower beds. And although the Master of the Hounds had already made great strides in training Sweetie, the puppy didn't always come when Aramis called her, and when Martin the groundskeeper then passed by her with a basket, her nose went up and she bounded after him, ignoring calls for her to come back.

Throwing the ball back to d'Artagnan, he went to retrieve Sweetie, and caught up to her and Martin by the stairs leading up into the palace.

"Sweetie, come," he commanded, and although she didn't obey, she did stop jumping up at Martin and trying to get to what was in his basket. Sighing, he went over to them. "Sorry, Martin," he apologized.

Martin gave an unperturbed shake of his head while Aramis picked the dog up. "She's still young, Minister. Lots of the world to explore, and the saffron in my basket has likely piqued her curiosity."

"Saffron is it? For the kitchens?"

"Aye, for Her Majesty's caudle. It will help replenish her strength once the babe's born."

His heart started beating faster. "Have you had word then? Is it almost over?"

"No, not that I've heard," Martin answered. "Just been told to gather some of the ingredients so they're ready when the time comes."

"I see," Aramis replied, deflating some. "Well I won't keep you, then." He looked down at Sweetie in his arms. "Come on, le-" he started to say to the dog, but was cut off by a muffled scream coming from within the palace.

He whipped his head up sharply towards the palace at the sound, as did Sweetie, who let out a whine, and all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He'd heard Anne scream before, but it was in fear, fear for him after Borel had shot at them, but this was like nothing he'd ever heard from her.

Next to him, Martin said something. Blinking, he shook his head and turned back to the man.

"I do hope it will be over soon, though," Martin continued, "for Her Majesty's sake." Martin bowed his head and lifted up his basket. "Best be getting on with these, Minister."

Nodding, he returned his attention to the palace once Martin's back was turned. His instincts, his heart, told him to go to Anne, but he could hear Athos' voice in the back of his head, telling him not to overreact. However, it also gave him an answer of what to do.

He needed a drink.

Just a drink, he told himself as he passed Sweetie over to another gardener nearby, instructing him to bring the puppy back to His Majesty and to inform the Captain that he would be right back. He would just go to his office and have a drink to calm his nerves and then come right back out.

The problem was, which he realized only once he was already in his office, that despite the distance he had put between himself and Anne's quarters, it wasn't far enough. He could still hear her.

The sound carried through the empty halls, it bounced off stone and echoed in his ears, sending shivers down his spine. It sounded like she was being ripped apart, and why did no one seem to be helping her? He could hear no other voice but hers, had not passed anyone in the hallway rushing towards her aid.

As he poured himself a glass of wine he tried to remind himself that Anne had warned him of this, that the reason she had wanted Louis kept away was so that he wouldn't hear her crying out, that he wouldn't hear her in pain. But as he put his hand around the glass, he heard her once more, and he knew that no amount of alcohol would dull the sound of her screams.

His worry and frustration boiled over, and he threw the glass at the floor, shattering it, before kicking over one of the chairs and then throwing another across the room with a yell.

"Are you trying to draw attention to yourself?" Milady asked, suddenly appearing in the room.

MMMMMMMMMM

Spinning around, Aramis swiped at his watery eyes. "Milady-how-why are you here?"

"Her Majesty wanted me to keep an eye on you when her time came," she answered plainly. When she was first given the assignment, she had expected the Queen to ask her to keep watch for anyone intending to harm her or the potential new heir at their most vulnerable time, or perhaps to watch over the King, with someone thinking to seize him while everyone's attention was on the Queen, but no, Her Majesty informed her that d'Artagnan and Aramis would be with the King, and she was to look after the former musketeer.

She could see now though, that the Queen had been wise in her preparations.

Aramis huffed. "Of course she did."

"Yes, and it's a good thing I'm here to stop you before someone comes to investigate only to find the First Minister in hysterics while the Queen Regent is giving birth in another part of the palace."

"Haven't you heard how much pain she's in?"

"The whole palace can hear her," she scoffed, and right on cue, they could hear the Queen's faint scream echoing through the walls. Aramis visibly stiffened as he listened to it, and her voice softened when she spoke to him again. "It will be over soon," she told him in an attempt to assuage him.

"It could still be hours," he replied, his shoulders sagging.

"No, I heard the midwife call Delorme over; they told her to start bearing down, I imagine it's why she screams so."

"You went over there?" Aramis asked, his eyes bulging out of his head. "Did you talk to anyone?" He must have assumed she had gone to stand outside the chamber with the courtiers.

"Of course not." She tilted her head towards the hidden door. "I used the passageway to listen in and check on her before I went looking for you."

Aramis stared at her for several seconds before his eyes shot over to the door to the passageway.

"No," she firmly said, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He looked at her with his sad brown eyes, silently pleading with her. "No," she repeated.

Walking over to her, he put his hands on her arms. "You said it's almost over. Please, Milady, I beg you. This is my one and only chance to be there and hear my child's first cries, to make sure they're all right."

She knew she should be resolute and put her foot down, that letting him be near the Queen would be risky, but then she looked around the room and saw the evidence of what not being near her caused him to do. Perhaps letting him use the passageway would give him peace of mind, and so long as he remained quiet and didn't burst into the Queen's room, she could keep him away from any suspicious eyes and ears who might be looking for clues in his reaction.

"Fine," she said, giving in against her better judgement. "But I'm leading the way and at no point are you to get past me. If you do, I will kill you myself."

After swearing to her that he wouldn't, they quickly righted his office before making their way through the passage, the Queen's cries becoming louder and louder as they neared the room. She looked back over her shoulder at Aramis now and then. His hands were clenched at his sides and his head was slightly bowed, but his eyes told her to keep going.

"You must bear down longer, Majesty," came Delorme's strong but patient voice as they closed in on the room. She could hear the Queen's panting, but the woman sounded even more tired than when she was last here a short while ago.

She stopped several feet from the door to the Queen's bedroom and turned around, placing a hand on Aramis' chest. This was as far as they would go. She watched as his eyes went over to the door and his jaw clenched, but after a second he returned his gaze to her and nodded in acceptance. He still looked like he would bolt through the door at the slightest sign of distress though, so she pointed a finger at the floor. Thankfully, he went and sat against the wall with little resistance, and she sat down next to him.

It wasn't long before they heard the Queen again, and Aramis' hand shot out and covered her own where it lay by her side. She glanced down at their hands, and after a second she curled her fingers around his. Neither of them said anything, but he squeezed her fingers, and she knew he was thanking her.

MMMMMMMMMM

She was never getting pregnant, Constance decided as she listened to Anne cry out in pain once more.

As it neared midday, Anne's moans had turned into long, drawn-out whines that broke Constance's heart to hear. Her golden hair had started sticking to her increasingly sweaty face, and so Constance had quickly gathered it into a simple loose plait, but otherwise all she could do was offer words of encouragement and a hand to hold. Since Delorme had been called over though, Constance was relieved to know that they were entering the final stage and that Anne's ordeal would soon be over.

Anne cried out loudly as she bore down, and Constance could tell some of the others in the room thought Anne's carrying on was undignified. She herself had never seen Anne in such a state and could count on one hand the times she had witnessed Anne lose her poised and queenly composure, but even in her limited knowledge of childbirth she knew that it hurt, a lot, and if Anne wanted to scream the palace down to get through it, then damn their ears.

According to Delorme and Dame Peronne though, Anne wasn't bearing down long enough, and she could tell by how little Anne was lifting herself off of the pillows propped up behind her that she was getting taxed by the effort. It was proposed at one point that Anne take to the birthing chair to try and help things along, but Anne vigorously shook her head at the prospect, and while Constance understood why it was suggested, she couldn't very well imagine Anne making the transition in the state she was in.

Unable to just sit and watch any longer though, Constance took off her shoes, hitched up her skirts, and pushed the pillows out of the way so that she could position herself behind Anne on the bed.

There were faint noises of shock, along with many raised eyebrows, but Constance didn't spare them a second thought, focusing all her attention on Anne, and as long as she didn't object, Constance wasn't going to let any of them stop her.

"There we are," she said once she was settled, with Anne sitting between her legs. She'd had to hike her skirts up considerably to do so, and she was sure the room's occupants probably caught the flash of flesh above her stockings, but they all quickly returned their attention to what was happening between Anne's legs as they waited to see what the next contraction would bring.

Anne let out a weak laugh. "Constance," she murmured, leaning her head against Constance's shoulder.

She slid her hands under Anne's where they clutched at the bedsheet. "Here, take my hands," she instructed, "and when the pains hit, push against them, against me, all right?"

Anne nodded in front of her, and flexed her hands in hers as she took a shuddering breath.

When the next pain came, Anne pushed down on Constance's hands, gripping them fiercely, and when it passed, Constance had to duck her head to the side to avoid being cracked in the face when Anne threw her head back to take gasping breaths.

"That's it, Majesty," said Delorme, happy with the result, and instructed Anne to do the same with the next pain.

After a couple more pushes, Delorme's face appeared between the modesty sheet and the bedpost, and his assistant leaned down to listen. "The head's nearly out," Delorme informed the man. "Let them in."

While the signal was given to open the doors, Constance looked down at Anne. "Hear that, Majesty? You're almost there."

"It hurts," Anne cried in between gasping breaths. "I can't…"

"Of course you can, of course you can."

A stream of people had begun to filter into the room, some looking curiously at them, others nervously glancing over, clearly uncomfortable and wishing they didn't have to be there. Constance loathed having all those people come into the room and seeing Anne like this, waiting only to find out whether the baby was a boy or a girl and having little to no care for Anne's well-being. She just hoped Anne kept her eyes closed and paid them no mind.

Leaning her head close, Constance whispered into Anne's ear, "Show the bastards what you're made of."

She wasn't sure if Anne was actually listening, but when the next pain came the yelp she gave at how hard Anne gripped her hands was drowned out by Anne's almighty roar.

MMMMMMMMMM

When the Queen gave her longest, most drawn-out cry yet, Aramis' grip on her hand became vice-like and Milady held her breath.

"A boy," she heard someone say, with muffled talk and murmurs following. Exhaling, she turned to Aramis, expecting to see him smiling, but his mouth was still set in a hard line, and the hand that held hers hadn't relaxed one bit, and then she realized why he wasn't celebrating yet: they hadn't heard a sound from the child.

She turned her head back to the door, straining her ears to hear what was going on in the room. She could hear the Queen's panting breaths, and some hushed words that were impossible to make out apart from "the cord", but otherwise the room had fallen silent.

She didn't know how long was too long, but the silence seemed to drag on, and to her surprise she found herself getting anxious. She looked back at Aramis and saw that his eyes were now tightly closed. His lips moved in silent prayer and his free hand was clenched over his heart. Unable to get up and do anything, she did something she hadn't done in years or decades even, and started praying along with him.

And then their prayers were answered.

Something between a cough and cry broke through the stillness and audible sighs of relief sounded from the room as the child's cries continued and grew in volume, piercing through the walls and fending off the darkness that had been descending on them.

Aramis' grip finally loosened and his head fell back against the wall. "Listen to that," he whispered, chuckling softly.

"The court composer could not create such a melody," she replied in a low voice, smiling. She told herself she was just humouring the new father, but right now the child's cries were proof of his good health, proof of his strength, and it was indeed a wonderful sound.