Upon the realization of loss

[averygoodshot]

There is little that will keep Aramis away from his son. Even trips to exotic beach locales only serve as temporary diversions from what he considers his family. He has not gone back to Paris to appease the Queen, he has been diligent and loyal and good (love, he tells himself, is a powerful force).

Then comes the day when he knocks on the right door and no one answers. When he's told that Anne, Queen of France, no longer resides in the Nexus at all. How, he wonders, his heart clattering in his chest, can he keep the Queen safe now? How can he protect his son?

After a thorough and emotional search, resulting in nothing, not even a door back to Paris, Aramis does the only thing he can think to do. He drinks (and yes, he does let the others know of his findings, or lack thereof) and he wallows. This is how he finds himself in the tavern, a wine bottle and goblet in front of him, and his head in his hands.

Comments

[at_your_side]

In retrospect, Constance would have to admit that she should have begun her search for Aramis nowhere other than the tavern.

The sight of him there as he sat at his table, his hair more than a touch wild as if he had been running his hands through it (as she had seen him do so many times before when he was distracted or attempting to reel in his emotions) and his head in his hands, made her heart ache. The news she carried with her as she stepped into the tavern, sparing a tight, far from comfortable smile at the friend she had made in the waitress when the other woman passed her with a tray full of drinks, before she continued on.

How she wished there had been some other solution than what had been decided. That what she needed to tell the man would do anything to set him at ease when she could already guess that he might have discovered the disappearance of the Queen and dauphin. Of his son.

She spoke when she neared him, pausing beside the nearest seat to him although she did not move to sit down. "Aramis."

[temperamentalsteel]

"Aramis?" D'Artagnan comes over to sit with him, plainly concerned as to the source of his friend's misery. All of them are prone to melancholy, certainly, but he's always thought Aramis the least prone of them. It's a worrying sight even as he holds up a hand to order a glass of wine.

"Aramis what's come over you?"

[praiseandglory]

When Porthos arrives to the tavern after a game of cards, it's not difficult to gauge his friend's mood. It's a little surprising, but hardly difficult. He clasps his hand on his shoulder to announce himself, and doesn't say anything as he takes a seat across from Aramis. He signals for a waiter to bring him a goblet, too (it doesn't occur to him that Aramis might not share), and once that is done, fills it and asks, "What are we drinking to?"

[armedagainstlove]

In the midst of his cups, Athos is perhaps not the most cognizant of men, but it would take no more than a blind and deaf man to see that Aramis is upset. He hardly ever drinks in the fashion that Athos does, which leaves Athos to wonder what can have caused such dismay. He settles down beside the man and presses his hat to the table, not saying a single word because he's never really had to. His companions have always been good enough to speak up for him, eventually.

He does, of course, partake in the wine. Merely because it's there, of course.