The Talk

[averygoodshot]

There is a fundamental peace that comes with being near his son in a way that allows Aramis to hold him, to sing to him. Even though things are still unresolved in Paris, he is not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He cradles the Dauphin to his chest and hums even as he hears a knock at the door. He walks over and peers into the small looking glass to see Porthos on the other side.

Well. It isn't as if he can pretend to not be here, is it? And if he can adjust to his friend being a woman, then surely, Porthos will take the news of his being the Dauphin's father ... in stride?

Aramis can hope.

Holding the baby securely, he opens the door to his friend.

Comments

[praiseandglory]

Porthos can't help himself. His hat drops to the floor as he grabs the front of Aramis's jacket, looking like he has every intention to beat his face in. But the baby is there, so he freezes, breathing hard with anger, and eventually lets go of his jacket and takes a step back.

"Say it," he demands, anger still beating hard in his chest. Even for Aramis, that is... crossing a line that never should be crossed. Committing treason. That is what he wants to hear, needs to hear, to believe it.

[averygoodshot]

"Porthos," Aramis says, hands up, his eyes never leaving his friend's face. "It isn't the way it may seem. She needed me."

And he loves her, still. That much may even be apparent on his face, too.

[praiseandglory]

"She did not need you to -" Porthos reins his temper in just before he might say something that really shouldn't be said around an infant, never mind the future King of France. "To commit treason with her," he finishes in a heated whisper, as if the baby might understand the euphemism for what it is if he heard it. "Treason, Aramis!"

[averygoodshot]

"I love her," Aramis replies, perhaps just as fiercely. "It was not what I intended," he amends. "But I love her."

Despite all the problems, all the danger, that basic truth is at the foundation.

[praiseandglory]

"Do you think that matters?" Porthos rages, taking a step closer and letting his voice swell with anger. "She is the Queen, Aramis!" But his explosion has upset the Dauphin, who begins to cry from his bed. Porthos holds Aramis's gaze for a few more seconds, then something in him relents, softens, and he claps him on the shoulder, a friendly gesture, this time. "Go to him."

[averygoodshot]

Porthos made the baby cry. Aramis's look is scolding. He can yell at Aramis all he wants, but there is no reason to make the baby cry.

He fetches the child, holding him and rocking from side to side. He starts humming quietly, dangling the crucifix he wears for the child to grasp even as he walks closer so that Porthos may look at him. "I know she is the Queen," he hums, glancing at Porthos. "I know that I should not have. But she is far from an ordinary woman, Porthos."

[praiseandglory]

"Of course she isn't, she's the bloody Queen," Porthos huffs, but he keeps his voice low now, and most of his anger seems to have passed. He remains quiet for a few seconds, knowing better than to argue against love, especially with Aramis. Besides, there are a lot more things that bear thinking about. "Does anybody else know?"

[averygoodshot]

"Athos knows. He was ... it was in the convent. He was there." And he had yelled at Aramis quite well, in case Porthos was worried.

As the baby falls back to sleep, he takes him back to the bed, setting him back down carefully. When he returns, he looks at his friend. "Can you blame me," he asks, his voice low, "for me wanting to be near my son?"

[praiseandglory]

"He isn't your son, Aramis," Porthos replies, tearing his gaze away from the infant to look at his friend. His surprise at having to tell his friend so is gone almost immediately; Aramis is too much of a romantic in such matters, and of course he needs to be told. He feels certain that Athos has, before now, but maybe hearing it from Porthos will help, although they're words he says with a heavy heart. This is grief of Aramis's own making, and yet he wishes he could spare him. "He can't be your son. That would mean your death, and hers. That baby's the Dauphin of France. He's the King's son."

[averygoodshot]

Yes, yes. For all intents and public purposes, that is true.

But in his heart, the boy is his son. And he would die for the Queen as it is; he's already demonstrated that, hasn't he? Before there was even love between them.

"It is never something I shall speak of publicly," he assures Porthos.

But.

[praiseandglory]

"Aramis," Porthos starts, because his friend needs to understand, but -

But they are in the Nexus, and it doesn't matter here, for now. He can give Aramis a reprieve, although he isn't sure that it's a kindness, when the parting will be that much more difficult, upon his return to Paris.

"You ought to tell d'Artagnan."

[averygoodshot]

Yes, Aramis should, he supposes, and his face shows the gratitude he feels for Porthos's seeming acceptance for the situation here, at least.

Little does he know he will come close to death once he returns to Paris.

"I will," he promises, bringing his hand up to rest on Porthos's shoulder. "Sit and have some wine?"

[praiseandglory]

Porthos shakes his head, unsure why he feels so uncomfortable at the suggestion. It might simply be that he doesn't want to start thinking of the baby as anything but the Dauphin.

"Spend what time you might with him, while you're both here," he tells his friend, his eyes grave on his. "This is all the time you will have, Aramis." He hopes that he is making his message clear; no more seducing the governess when he returns to Paris, an action which now seems cruel to the poor woman, if the infant was the only reason behind it.

[averygoodshot]

Ah, Marguerite. Aramis doesn't know Porthos knows about that.

But he nods, yes; he will take as much time as he can with the boy.

This tension, though, between them, disconcerts him. "I will be careful," he adds, belatedly.

[praiseandglory]

Porthos nods, then doesn't hesitate as he wraps Aramis in one of his usual friendly embraces, but one that perhaps means more, now, clapping him softly on the back before stepping back and turning to go.

It might also be fathers abandoning their sons, and the recent wound in his heart, that pushes him out of this room, to leave father and son in peace while they can be.

[averygoodshot]

It seems abrupt, certainly and Aramis is reaching out, almost saying Porthos's name when the baby starts to cry again. He turns to care for the boy.

For his son.