A new chapter! YAYYYYYYYYYYYYY! I sorta lied when saying that this was going to have a lot of whump in it, but this time, I promise there will be some in the next chapter! I hope you enjoy!
Thanks for all the support; keep it up by reviewing!
Anne woke up dazed and confused. Constance was sitting beside her.
"Your Majesty!" she exclaimed, rushing over to her side. She quickly adjusted her pillows so she would be sitting upright. "How are you feeling?"
"Where is Aramis?" she asked. "Is he safe? Is he awake? I need to see him."
"Aramis is back at the garrison, still resting," Constance replied, holding the Queen's hands in her own. "His injuries were horrifying from what I saw. Unfortunately, he has began having nightmares. The others could barely hold him down when he has them."
The Queen's eyes grew wide. "I have to see him," she whispered.
"Right now, you need more rest," Constance said. "And time. When Aramis wakes up, he will want to see you as well. Once he heals at least enough so he can walk, then he will come to the Palace and you can see him. I am sorry, Your Majesty, but it is the only way we could think of."
After a few seconds of silence, Anne nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "It's alright," she said.
"He will be okay…," Constance tried to assure her. "His wounds will heal, and then he will go back to being himself. I promise you."
Anne nodded again, closing her eyes and letting the tears trickle down her face.
Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan waited for Aramis to wake up for, what seemed like years, but was really only a few days.
Throughout those hard times, Aramis suffered greatly. The nightmares were terrible, and often times, Porthos would have to gather his friend in his arms and wait them out; it seemed to be the only thing that could calm him down. Porthos kept wishing that it was him who got this punishment, not Aramis … but it was too late now. So he continued holding Aramis' shaking body, praying that it would all be over soon.
Athos wouldn't stop pacing. He really wanted to punch something. Sometimes he would stop and begin to stare at Aramis, trying to calm himself down, telling himself that everything was going to be alright. It wasn't working. It still hurt too much.
And d'Artagnan just kept silent, his gaze always on Aramis, never straying away. It was like he couldn't believe that this was happening … and in truth, he really couldn't.
Constance even stopped by a few times with food for the three men keeping a steady vigil over their injured friend, and to also catch up on how Aramis was doing so she could report back to Anne, who was desperately waiting for him to wake up.
Finally … he did.
It was slow and painful, but his beautiful chocolate brown eyes finally opened. They were full of confusion, but slowly he realized that he was safe. He sank down into the covers, wincing and letting out a groan.
"Take it easy, Mis," Porthos said, helping him sit up. "You're back at the garrison - you're safe."
Aramis closed his eyes. "The Queen?" he asked, his voice weak.
"She is safe," Athos answered. "She has been waiting to see you."
The man nodded. "I thought Philip had killed her," he whispered. "Is she … uninjured?"
"Her wrists are bruised but Philip did not hurt her," Athos said. "Constance said that she made a full physical recovery… but …"
"Mentally - not so much?" Aramis guessed.
"When you recover, you could go see her. It would be good for the both of you."
He nodded again. "Is Philip dead?"
Porthos nodded and smiled tiredly. "Took the final final shot myself. He's gone for good."
"Thank God," Aramis breathed out. He looked up at Porthos and whispered a broken, "Thank you."
Porthos, in return, took his hand and squeezed. "No. Thank you … for holding on."
"Ha … you cannot get rid of me that easily, Porthos."
D'Artagnan chuckled, the first sound he had made in a while. "And we are so grateful that we can't," he said.
Aramis smiled, his eyes, although tired and clouded, shining ever so gently.
After many nights of nonstop nightmares and pain, Aramis was finally able to get back up on his feet. And once he was sure he could walk long distances, his friends took him to the Palace.
As he waited Anne, he began to see flashbacks of his captivity with Philip de Rochefort and he shivered. It would have gotten worse if the Queen hadn't burst through the doors then.
She sent her maid away, and then closed the doors to the room they were standing in. They were alone.
For what seemed like the longest time, Aramis and Anne just stared at each other, not sure on what to say.
Anne started examining her lover, her eyes filling with tears when she saw his forced stance, his trembling body, and his pain filled expression. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he was even paler than the last time she saw him.
"Anne…," Aramis began in a cracking voice. Tears were forming in his eyes, too.
She walked over to him, smiling brokenly when he did the same. When they were close enough, Anne finally wrapped her arms around him, beginning to sob. He felt him shaking against her, his mind having trouble controlling his body.
Aramis groaned quietly, but still managed to embrace her, tears streaming down his face. He kissed her forehead, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I thought I would never see you again," he murmured. "I thought that bastard had killed you."
Anne looked up, her hand traveling to his tear stained cheek. "He did not," she said. "I am safe and unharmed. I am here." She placed her hand on his chest. "You must be in so much pain," she whispered.
The Musketeer shook his head. "I will be alright."
Anne laughed. "You said that the last time," she said.
Aramis couldn't help it; he kissed her hard, needing to feel some kind of reassurance. Anne kissed him back, trying her best to be as gentle as possible. She tasted his tears in her mouth, which caused more of her own to fall down her face.
"If anything happened to you, Anne," Aramis said in between kisses. "What would I have done? I need you."
"I am here with you now," the Queen replied. "Everything is going to be just fine."
Her lover nodded.
Suddenly, he moaned, his legs giving out on him as he fell.
Anne quickly caught him and helped him up. "Would you like to stay here for the night?" she asked.
He looked up. "What about … the King?" he asked breathlessly.
"He will not suspect anything," she replied. "He had told me that he wanted to thank you … for making sure I came home safe. I will talk to him."
Aramis closed his eyes, clearly in pain. "Alright," he said.