#aramis imagine

[backtothefanfiction]

Two Can Play At That Game | Aramis Imagine

Warnings: typical musketeer shinanigans, guns, fighting, jokes and fluff, Aramis trying to be suave, flirty, teasing

Word Count: it’s another quick couple hundred (written in app, not keeping track

A/N: okay, so I’m doing it. Aramis as a character has meant so much to me for years and the three musketeers story as a whole is a very important one for my soul history. anyway, I saw this prompt on Pinterest and it just fit and I had to write it.

You were tired. It had been another long and trying day full of the usual drama and shinanigans that came hand in hand with the King’s favourite Musketeers. And if it wasn’t for the risks and near death experiences that always seemed to follow them, you would have been more than happy to have spent your time with them.

“I promise, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Aramis had said as he pulled you down behind a stack of barrels to take cover. “I thank the Lord that they’re a terrible shot.” He sighs, lifting the cross tied around his neck to his lips and placing a kiss on it for luck.

You had flinched as one of the musket balls hit the top of the barrel closest to your head, wood splintering around you as Aramis leaned over to cover you with his body.

“You know next time you four come knocking I’m just going to pretend I’m not at home.” You jested and you felt him let out a breathy chuckle. Your face was dangerously close to his chest, the deep v of his shirt falling open slightly as his body flexed around you. You closed your eyes and forced away your temptations. Now was not the time.

Your eyes scrunched up tightly, your body growing taught again as another round of shots were fired.

“Come on Porthos.” You heard Aramis mutter to himself.

There was a loud thundering of hooves on the ground as Porthos charged in with a cry. There was a loud wail as one of the men who had been shooting, was knocked down by the momentum of Porthos’ horse.

“Hya!!” Porthos shouted, before making clicky noises with his mouth to wrangle not just his but also Aramis’ horse, who’s reigns were clutched tightly in his grasp.

“Come on, quick.” Aramis said, wringing his sword, holding it out in front of him with one hand, his other hand reaching for yours as he pulled you up and began to lead you to Porthos and the horses.

“Get on.” Aramis commanded as he began to cut down one of the men.

Porthos tossed you the reigns and tucking the leather tightly into the curl of your fingers, you slotted your left foot into the stirrup in front of you and hauled yourself up onto the horse. With his hand now free, Porthos pulled out his sword and began slashing at the two other men about to lunge at Aramis.

“Get on,” you held your hand out to him and he swung up onto the back of the horse behind you, his arms wrapping around you as you handed the reigns off to him.

“Yah!” He called out as his ankles kicked at the sides of the horse, encouraging it into a gallop, Porthos made a similar action and followed closely behind.

**

When you had gotten back to the safety of the garrison you started to breathe easier.

“You okay?” Aramis asked as he helped you down from the horse.

“Yes.” You nodded as he handed the reigns off to Porthos to take the two horses to the stable.

“Still thinking of pretending to not be home next time we call?”

“No.” You smirked. You knew you could never say no to an adventure with him. “I love you.” You said as you leaned into him, breathing heavily, relishing in the feeling of still being alive and with him.

“I love me too,” he grinned.

“I- wait, what?” You said your face falling into mock shock as you processed his words.

“I didn’t want this to be some cliché moment, so I thought I’d just shake things up a bit,” he said as you began to pull away from him, “Just know that I love both me and you- where are you going?” He continued, throwing his hands up in the air as you dramatically walked away from him.

“To rethink my life choices.” You call back to him with a smirk.

“Does that mean not to call on you the next time there’s another daring adventure?”

You smile to yourself as you continue to walk through the gates of the garrison, willing yourself to hold your resolve as he calls out your name in ever increasing volumes of desperation, the further you get away. Aramis may think his tongue is his best weapon, but you know holding your own is yours.

#aramis #aramis imagine #one shot #musketeers #bbc musketeers #Porthos #the three musketeers #aramis musketeers #aramis x reader #musketeers imagine

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Honor and Espionage Part Two

Aramis x Reader

Words: 5013

Part One

Summary: Shut away in the ambassador’s mansion with a woman who knows her true identity, the reader attempts to complete her task. Aramis must wait helplessly as the fatal night ticks on. 

Notes: I cannot even begin to explain how much of a chokehold this man has me in. Aramis has stolen my heart, and I hope there are those of you who can relate! Let me know what you think, these are just such fun characters. (I also plan to do more with this reader/Aramis dynamic in the future, including the story of how they met)

Warnings: Violence, blood, angst, more steaminess 

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

The doors closed and the last of the guests appeared to be inside. Aramis tucked his spyglass away with a frustrated sigh. He could see you now in his mind, your dazzling smile winning over the guests and the ambassador, your charm earning your way to more secluded areas of the house. Areas with information. Areas with proof of his treason. Aramis had seen firsthand how skilled and precise you were at your job. But that didn’t keep the turning in his gut from adding to the pained worry in his chest. 

The musketeer leaned back against the bark of the tree he’d hidden behind. The others were in similar positions, all glancing up at the house for any sign of trouble. 

D’Artagnan shifted, leaning toward him with a raised brow. “How do you do it?” He asked. “I imagine marriage would be hard enough when only one of you is a musketeer, but both of you?”

Aramis looked up at the boy and found only innocent curiosity on his face, as well as a hint of admiration. He inhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair. Aramis knew of the younger man’s complicated feelings for a particular merchant’s wife. Perhaps all he was looking for was a little hope. 

“It isn’t easy, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that,” he said, a small smile teasing his lips. “But I think it helps us understand each other more than we would if we lived in a cottage somewhere.” Aramis chuckled. “Perhaps understand isn’t the right word…” In all his years of knowing you, he found that your mind was one he had yet to comprehend. Luckily, trying was one of his favorite activities. 

“What is then?” D’Artagnan rested his arm on his knee and tilted his head. “The right word?” 

Aramis contemplated the question for a while, listening to the distant sounds of the forest around the ambassador’s property and the occasional laugh streaming from one of the open windows. 

“I don’t know, ‘appreciate,’ I suppose,” he answered. D’Artagnan noticed the intense sincerity overtaking his features. “I cherish every moment I have with her because of everything we’ve been through. I worship each second breathing the same air as her as if any inhale may be my last. Because when I even think of a world where her voice has been silenced and her heart has been stopped…” He trailed off, turning back to the house. “I know my soul would follow her, even if my body could not.” 

Porthos’s deep and thoughtful laugh joined their conversation. He sat with his head tilted back and a smirk on his face. 

“Always the romantic hero type, eh?” He said. “Both you and her.” 

“Yes, Porthos, I am a man guilty of loving my wife and she is guilty of the same. Tease all you like.” Aramis smiled to himself, still facing the place where his wife could be in danger and he’d have no way of knowing until it was too late. 

Porthos shifted so he was sitting beside him. He put a hand on his shoulder, gaze following his worried friend’s. 

“She’ll be alright, yeah? She always is.” 

“And if anything happens, we’re ready,” D’Artagnan added. 

Athos merely nodded but Aramis felt his support. All four men contemplated the situation in silence, each plagued with his own thoughts and concerns. Aramis forced slow breaths to calm himself but reached again for his spyglass to peer through any windows he had a clear sight of. 

D’Artagnan thought of the fierceness he’d already witnessed- had even been on the receiving end of- and had faith in your abilities. He felt sorry for anyone inside who’d be unfortunate enough to cross you. 

-

With the man who was to be your escort now rotting away with poison in his belly, you had to alter your story to one Treville would likely have a headache of explaining later on. Rather than the daughter of a prominent merchant in the area, you’d presented yourself as a friend of the king of France’s sister, the Duchess of Savoy, who was traveling with her brother- unable to attend the dinner due to a head cold he gained on the journey- and looking for an advantageous marriage. A forward approach, of course, but luckily it seemed the ambassador couldn’t resist a good challenge of pursuit. All of the other guests seemed to buy your story as well. 

Almost all of them. 

As you giggled mindlessly at something Laurent had said, you could feel the harsh, burning glare from your rival across the table. Milady de Winter, making conquests of her own, ensured that you couldn’t ignore her presence. Her intentions, you had yet to decipher, but you knew her presence could only mean trouble for you. 

Why had the cardinal sent a spy after the ambassador? Did he have the same information as Treville or were his motivations more sinister, as they often were? 

“Tell me, mademoiselle,” Milady began, the same knowing smugness in her voice as before, “what do you think of the rumors growing in Paris regarding the musketeers dueling with Cardinal Richelieu's noble Red Guard? I, for one, have been frightened of even stepping outside of my door.” 

Laurent grunted with an approving nod and took a drink of his wine. “A bunch of lawless miscreants, the lot of them.” He leaned forward so only the two of you could hear. “You know, I’ve heard that the imbecile Captain Treville even has some of his men following me.” 

“You poor dear,” you cried, placing your hand beside his, “how awful to be pursued by those brutes. I’ve personally spoken to the cardinal recently and he couldn't agree more with… I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name madame.” You stared pointedly at Milady. She didn’t blink. 

“Lady de Bonacieux.” 

You kept your face politely neutral, but inside you wanted to reach across and slap her. The use of your close friend’s last name was surely not a coincidence, but you failed to understand how she could know about your relationship with Constance. And her degradation of the musketeers was certainly meant to frustrate you, which meant she knew about your marriage to Aramis. But why not reveal you now? Why keep your identity a secret when it would benefit her much more to see the ambassador throw you out, or worse? 

“Ah, yes, we’ve met before,” you said. She wasn’t the only one with veiled threats up her sleeve. After all, you were not the only one here under false pretenses. “The cardinal introduced us once, did he not?” 

“I believe that was the occasion, yes.” 

“How lucky am I,” Laurent cheered, “to have friends of the cardinal’s on either arm.” 

You noted his boisterous tone and genuine glint in his eye. Either he was a much better liar than you anticipated, or there was something you had yet to discover. 

After dinner, Ambassador Laurent insisted on showing off his gardens to his guests before the men would separate to discuss subjects they felt were ‘too intense for the women’s delicate sensibilities.’ It always made you laugh, having to play the part of the naive ornament that they foolishly believed women to be. If any one of them could look into your mind and discover what you truly knew and understood, the burdens of knowledge you carried, they’d be terrified. 

Whereas, with your husband, your mind was his favorite thing about you. 

You pushed Aramis to the back of your thoughts again and continued batting your lashes at the idiots around you. 

Servants holding lanterns lined the paths of the garden, illuminated by the moonlight. Grand statues and topiaries were the center of Laurent’s boasts. You nodded and giggled and flattered until your brain was numb of boredom. 

A glint in the trees caught your eye. It was only for a second, but you could have sworn you saw movement. A flicker of silver. A contrast of blue-gray in the dark between the trees. 

You restrained yourself from groaning in frustration.

Surely, Athos was smarter than this. Surely, he wouldn’t allow for Aramis and the others to stake out the ambassador’s house because your husband was a touch too protective. Surely, they wouldn’t be that stupid. 

And yet… you knew it was them.

Aramis ducked behind the tree with his breath caught in his throat. 

“Do you think she saw me?” He whispered. Athos shot him a silencing glare. One trip, one loud noise could give away their presence. 

D’Artagnan eyed their leader and leaned over to Aramis. “She definitely saw you.” 

“Do you both want us to be shot?” Athos snapped. 

Aramis held a finger to his smirking lips. Athos’s blue eyes glared icy daggers. They all turned back to the group in the gardens and found that you’d looked away from their hiding spot. 

“Mademoiselle, have you seen your companion, Lady de Bonacieux?” Ambassador Laurent asked as he approached you. You’d only just noticed her absence yourself, sending a shock of panic through you that pushed the thoughts of your sneaking husband to the back of your mind. 

You gave Laurent a confused smile. “I haven’t, mousier. Perhaps she forgot something inside?” He looked to the house with a disappointed frown. “Oh, don’t let it upset you, sir. I’ll find her at once and we can continue our merriment.” 

There was something else in his expression, as well. A flicker of suspicion. But it was gone as soon as it had appeared, replaced by a smile of encouragement. 

“Don’t be gone long, my dear. I have yet to show you the largest of the statues.” 

“Of course.” You bowed and hurried back inside. 

In the trees, D’Artagnan’s teasing of Aramis halted with Porthos pointing to the gardens. 

“Look,” he said. Four pairs of eyes snapped over to watch you go. Porthos shook his head in confusion. “Where is she going?” 

“More importantly,” Athos said, motioning to another member of the gathering who retreated back into the house. “Where is he going?” Laurent’s ornately dressed form followed after you just long enough that you wouldn't notice. 

Aramis’s stomach dropped. He moved into a readied crouching position. “He’s discovered her. We have to help.” 

“Wait.” Athos held out a hand to stop him. “We must have faith in Y/N’s abilities. If we act too quickly, it could be a disaster for both her and us.” 

“But if he knows, he’ll kill her!” 

“Not with all of these people here,” Porthos noted the still full garden. “Even he’s not that stupid. He’d have to take her somewhere else if he’s going to kill her.”

“How surprisingly unhelpful,” Aramis snapped. 

But, with no other choice, he again remained, holding a clenched fist to his lips as he uttered more prayers he could only hope someone was listening to. 

Inside, you crept along the halls to the sounds of the crowd outside. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of them knew. How many knew of this man’s betrayal of his country and stood by and let it happen? How many helped him? 

You came upon a door on the second floor with movement and light streaming through the cracks. You removed the dagger you had strapped to your leg and opened it. Milady de Winter stood over the ambassador’s desk, rummaging through piles of parchment. 

“I expected a more subtle exit,” you said, closing the door behind you. “I believed you were more skilled than that. I thought wrong.” 

“Speed, in this situation, is favored for stealth, I’m afraid. Not all of us have musketeer husbands waiting to rescue us if this goes poorly.” She sneered at you over the countless letters and plans on the dark wood desktop. You froze. “Oh save me the shocked looks. It’s my job to know who you are.” 

“As it is mine to know who you work for,” you fired back. Of course, your marriage wasn’t a secret, but something about her knowing of Aramis made your skin crawl. “How did the cardinal find out about Laurent? No one else was supposed to know. Why would he send his favorite spy?” 

“Why indeed?” The growling voice behind you made your heart stop. A hand roughly grabbed your arm and the glower of Ambassador Laurent loomed over you. His burning gaze shifted over your shoulder. “What does the cardinal mean by this? I thought we had a deal?” 

“A deal?” You gasped, whirling around to look at Milady. “The cardinal is working with this traitor?” Laurent’s grip on your hand tightened and you forced a cry of pain back down your throat. 

“Unfortunately, you’ve run out of usefulness, ambassador. You’ve drawn too much attention to yourself, as this musketeer insider proves.” Milady said calmly. She raised her arm from behind the desk, aimed her pistol, and fired. “And someone has to clean up the mess.”

Laurent crumpled to the floor. 

Milady skirted around the desk with a cold, hard glare. “I’m afraid that goes for you too.” 

-

The crowd let out a collective gasp as the sharp sound rang through the night. The four men hiding in the shadows jumped to their feet. 

“Did you hear that?” Aramis exclaimed, not bothering to stay quiet anymore. 

“Steady, Aramis,” Athos urged, though he’d reached for his weapon. 

“We can’t wait any longer,” Porthos said. 

Aramis didn’t wait for an order. He dashed across the clearing separating them from the gardens. The other three swiftly followed. The guests gasped again upon seeing their approach. 

“Everyone remain calm,” Athos instructed. “We have everything under control.” His voice boomed with enough authority that nobody questioned him. 

Aramis’s feet carried him through the main door. Candlelight flickered in his vision. Gold shimmered from every surface it was nearly blinding. He whirled around, holding a hand out to stop the others, and listened. 

You dove for the weapon with one hand and slashed at her with your knife in the other. Milady knocked against the desk, sending parchment flying over the ambassador’s bloody body. 

“We could have made quite the team, you know,” she said. “The cardinal would have liked you, had you not married a musketeer of course. Aramis, isn’t it? I’m told he’s such a charmer.” She finished reloading her weapon. “Too bad you’ll never see him again. Husbands are useless anyway. He’ll betray you. Just wait.” 

You snatched a candlestick from the side table and launched it at her. She fired accidentally into the wall. In the bright flash of your weapon, a note caught your eye. There, on the edge of the desk, was a letter. In the moment you were able to read some of the words, you recognized it as Laurent’s plot to pay Savoyan soldiers to assassinate the king. And in the corner, was the cardinal’s signet. 

You swung your knife in Milady’s direction again, grabbing the letter and taking the second she had to reload to retreat. The ambassador’s guards met you in the hall. One reached for you. You plunged your knife into his arm and elbowed the other in the nose. If they pursued you, you didn’t turn to see. You ran. 

The second shot might as well have been through Aramis’s pounding heart. 

The third consumed his senses completely. 

With Porthos and Athos busy with more guards, he and D’Artagnan raced up the stairs. The ornate white marble brought them to the second floor where you laid with your back against the wall and a cloaked figure standing over you, gripping your arm as you screamed in agony. The figure tore something from your hands and hurried away without looking back. Aramis fired a shot but missed. 

“After her!” You shouted. You tried to pull yourself to your feet using the railing, but any movement in your arm shot searing pain through your body. Blood had already soaked the sleeve and side of your gown. 

“Go,” Aramis said to D’Artagnan. The young man sprinted after the assailant while Aramis rushed to your side. When his dark, beautiful eyes hovered over yours, you almost breathed a sigh of relief through your clenched teeth. 

“My arm,” you groaned. “The wretch shot me in the arm.”

Aramis examined the wound, lifting your limb gently. You took a sharp breath that sounded more like a whimper. He laid a hand on your cheek. 

“It’s bleeding too much.” Aramis unlatched his belt and wrapped it around your arm just below the shoulder. He tightened it and this time you couldn’t keep the scream at bay. “I know, love. But if I don’t remove the ball and sew the wound soon-”

“I’ll bleed to death,” you finished. There was a flicker of terror in his eyes. 

He saw the light leave your gaze, felt the warmth abandon your skin. He heard your final breaths as your blood stained his hands. He imagined his life without you. It was as dark and cold as a moonless night. The mere image of standing at your grave planted a seed of despair in his chest that he forced himself to push down in order to ensure that it didn’t become real. 

“That’s not going to happen.” 

Downstairs, Athos and Porthos’s battle showed no signs of ending. D’Artagnan returned with a shake of his head. Aramis put an arm under your legs and the other behind your back. He scooped you up and you bit back tears of anguish with every step as he ran. 

“I can walk,” you protested. “It’s my arm, not my ankle.” 

“Now is really not the time to argue, darling.” 

“What happened? Is she hurt?” D’Artagnan asked, keeping up beside you. 

“I need you to bandage her arm and apply pressure to the wound,” Aramis instructed. The younger musketeer tore off a piece of tapestry from the wall and wrapped it around your arm. 

“Sorry about this,” he said, pulling the fabric taught. 

You bit your lip and buried your face in Aramis’s chest. 

“What in God’s name happened?” Athos exclaimed. He and Porthos joined the rushing group. 

Aramis kept his eyes forward and his focus on you. “I need the ambassador’s cabin. She can travel on horseback and we need to get to a secure location for me to operate.” 

“Where is the ambassador?” Athos asked. 

You lifted your head. “He’s dead.” The four men exchanged a glance. You scoffed. “Don’t worry, I didn’t kill him.” 

“That might not matter,” Athos said. He held the door leading out to the path where carriages awaited. 

“What’s going on? Who are you?” The driver jerked the reins away from Porthos’s reaching hand. 

D’Artagnan lifted his gun. “We’re going to need to borrow this, monsieur.”

“Aramis, there’s something I need to tell you all,” you said, voice weaker than before. He lifted you into the carriage, keeping you close in his arms. 

“It will have to wait, darling.” He kissed your forehead. 

“But if I-”

“Don’t.” His tone was firm, but it shook with fear nonetheless. He gulped. “Everything is going to be fine.” 

-

A short ride away sat a small farmhouse, apparently abandoned. Porthos halted the carriage and the other two soon rejoined with the horses. Aramis hurried you inside. 

“She needs a drink. This is going to hurt.” 

Porthos held out a leather flask. “Why don’t we just do what you did with me?”

Aramis scowled. “I like her face the way it is. I’d rather you not damage it.” 

“I’ll have to agree with my husband on that.” You snatched the drink from his hand and downed as much as you could as quickly as the burning liquid allowed. You were already feeling the dizzy discomfort of losing so much blood from the inner side of your arm. “Before you start, I have to tell you all… I have to tell you… the ambassador was plotting to kill the king. And the cardinal was a part of it. That’s why he sent one of his spies to retrieve his letter. She’s the one who killed Laurent and the one who shot me. If you can find her, you may be able to expose the cardinal.” 

“We can worry about that later.” Aramis brushed a strand of hair off of your sweat-spotted forehead. “I’m taking care of you first. And I’m sorry, my love, but it is going to hurt.” His voice sounded as pained as you felt. The anguish in his eyes showed how much seeing you like this broke his heart. 

Finishing the rest of Porthos’s brandy, you gripped Aramis’s shoulder with your uninjured hand. 

“Do it.” 

Lacking the proper tools, Aramis took the sharpest knife he had and reluctantly plunged it into your gaping wound. The burn of the bullet was nothing compared to the blinding sting as he worked to remove the ball from your flesh. Athos gave you a piece of leather to bite down on, but even your muffled screams made Aramis sick to his stomach. 

“I know, mon amour. I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon, I promise. I’m so, so sorry.” He clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus. “I’ve almost… got it.” The gore-coated piece of metal fell into his palm. Blood poured out from your wound. Again, the sensory images of your failing body filled his mind. Your eyes struggled to stay open. He worked faster. “D’Artagnan, tighten the belt and hand me my needle.” 

“Is it supposed to bleed that much?” 

“Just do as I say!” 

You let the leather piece fall from your mouth and managed a weak smile. “This reminds me of when we were attacked by thieves on the way to Gascony,” you laughed, ignoring the growing haze in your head. 

“I think we have different accounts of that.” 

You smirked. “Only, I saved you that time.” 

Aramis shook his head, his lips teasing upward. He threaded his needle and held the point over a candle’s flame. 

“Like I said,” he examined the needle. “Different accounts.” 

The sharp point pierced your scarlet-stained skin. It didn’t hurt as much as removing the bullet. You squeezed your eyes shut, took shallow breaths, and tried to stay awake. 

“There.” Aramis sliced the thread and wrapped a fresh cloth around your arm. “It’s over. You’ve lost a lot of blood but, God willing, you’ll heal.” He adjusted the cushions beneath you and cupped your face in his hands. 

“Aramis,” you breathed weakly and placed your hand on his. Your voice was hardly above a whisper. 

“What is it, love?” 

You opened your eyes to his brown irises staring in panic. Your smirk grew. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

He breathed a sigh of relief and brought your lips to his. 

Porthos chuckled behind him and slapped him on the shoulder. “That is a tough woman you’ve got yourself.” 

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Athos warned, though he was smiling as well. “We have to make sure the wound doesn’t get infected.” 

“Your concern warms my heart, Athos,” you teased. You pushed yourself up on your good arm and tried to stand. But the blood loss, as well as the brandy, weakened your legs. You fell back against your husband. 

“What are you doing?” He fretted.  

“I must get to Treville. We have to find de Winter. She has the letter.” 

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Aramis wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple. “You need to rest.”

You squirmed in his hold, grimacing when you moved your injured arm. “Leisure is not one of my specialties.” 

“I’ll just have to help you practice.” His dark gaze glinted with his smug smile, brow raised. 

“Perhaps you will.” 

D’Artagnan coughed, reminding the two of you that three other men stood in the room. You might have blushed if you hadn’t lost so much blood. 

D’Artagnan winked. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re going to be fine.” 

-

Aramis made a sling for you from his deep blue sash and the five of you headed back to Paris. You rode with Aramis, his arms on either side of you and his eyes shifting at every movement. He tensed at each snapping twig, his arms holding you a little closer. 

“It’s just a bird,” you whispered. “Besides, you needn’t be so worried.” You turned your head over your shoulder so you could kiss his cheek. “Broken wing or not, I’m still a better shot.” 

But if there were any of the ambassador’s allies, you did not encounter them. Nor was there any sign of Milady. By the time you reached Treville, you were sure the cardinal’s letter was little more than ash and memory. 

The captain paced before you as Aramis changed the crimson bandages on your arm. 

“If I had known your contact was Baffier, I would have warned your spouse to expect you.” 

“That certainly would have made you simpler.” 

“Admit it,” you snickered, “it was fun.” 

“I can’t say that’s the word I would use for you almost bleeding to death,” he said. He wasn’t smiling, rather his face held the same concern it had at the farmhouse. 

“Nor I.” Treville gave you a hard stare. “The ambassador is dead and we don’t have any proof of what he was planning. This is going to be a mess to try and explain to the king.” 

“It was the cardinal’s spy that killed him, not I.”

“Unfortunately, we also don’t have any proof that she exists and if someone from the gathering comes forward and recognizes you or the others, it’ll be a hell of a time explaining what you were doing there.” He stopped his movements and turned his head to both of you. “Which is why I’m not assigning you to anything else until this all dies down.” 

You stood up, Aramis following behind you. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means stay home,” Treville sighed. “You are injured. For God's sake, Y/N, you could have died if Aramis hadn’t been there!” 

“I’m afraid I have to agree with the captain.” Aramis stepped forward. “It’s far too much of a risk for you to be seen.”

Treville changed the subject of his exasperated glare from you to your husband. “And I’m sending you with her.”

Aramis’s face fell so quickly you would have laughed had you not been so frustrated. 

“Captain, I don’t… do you really think that’s… surely you’ll need-” He stammered. 

“You can keep an eye on each other until I can get this awful business figured out and her arm can heal.”

You both opened your mouths to argue, but he held up a hand. 

“That is my final decision.”

“What if you should need our services?” You asked. 

Aramis nodded frantically in agreement. “Yes! Surely Paris will find itself in danger some way or another and you’ll need our skills to stop another villain.” 

“If an emergency arises- and only of the utmost importance-'' Treville pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two will be the first to know. Now I have to try to begin to sort this out.” 

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. 

You wanted to stay and fight, but between the ache in your arm and your husband’s guiding hand leading you to the door, there wasn’t anything you could do. 

“God knows how long it’ll take for this to quiet down,” you huffed once you were outside. 

“You two don’t look happy,” Porthos said. 

“Let me guess.” Athos crossed his arms. “House arrest?” 

You crossed your arms, grimacing from the jerking movement. 

“Careful, darling.” Aramis winced. 

You ignored him. “We aren’t allowed on any assignments until this whole ridiculous situation is handled.” 

“So, what, you have to go into hiding?” D’Artagnan wondered. “What are you supposed to do until then?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll think of something.” Porthos gave you a mischievous smirk, but his teasing did not lighten your mood. 

“He might as well have sent us to live in a cave.”

“Now, dear,” Aramis said, putting an arm around your shoulder “don’t you think you’re being a tad melodramatic?” Your face morphed with fury and your eyes burned into his. He gulped. “I love you?” 

You turned on your heel and stormed away. Aramis looked desperately at his three companions, but none offered any solace. In fact, they all grinned in amusement. 

“God help me,” he muttered, chasing after you as the trio started to laugh. 

-

Two Days and A Country Cottage Later

You swiped the damp cloth over your skin, bringing it further up your arm until fingers gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you from soaking your stitches. 

“Mind my needlework, darling.” Aramis purred into your ear. He took the cloth from your hand and began his own soothing motions over your arm. “Allow me.” 

You laid back against him, the bath water rippling with each movement. With your head leaned on his shoulder, he carefully cleaned the area around your wound. Any ache in your nerves was erased by his lips on your skin- from your shoulder to your neck to that little spot behind your ear. 

“You know,” you sighed contently, “maybe the captain was right to send us out here. I can’t remember the last time we’ve gotten to spend this much time together.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.” His lips followed your jaw as you turned to face him. 

“I just hope the city is still standing by the time we get back,” you giggled. “I’m surprised we haven’t already been summoned.” 

Aramis flicked at the water. “I give Treville and the others three more days before they come begging for our help.” A cocky smirk played on his features. 

“Well,” you stood, water cascading from your skin and glittering in the setting sun streaming through the window. 

Aramis basked in the sight of you. Almost glowing, you looked practically angelic. You stepped out of the bath and ran your fingers through your hair, beckoning him with a hooked finger and a suggestive glimmer in your eyes. 

“We better not waste them then.”

#aramis x reader #aramis imagine #the musketeers #aramis #the musketeers aramis #the musketeers imagine #the musketeers bbc #d'artagnan #athos #porthos #treville #santiago cabrera

[rose-edith]

We already know what is like to kiss D'Artagnan but how about kissing Aramis?😍

Ooh! Hope you like it!

Kissing Aramis would include:

•the minute he decides he’s going to kiss you everything changes- the whole world just sinks to the two of you. It’s like no one else exists. He’s so confident, Aramis knows how to kiss, he’s assured and confident- it rolls off him in waves, and that excites you! Excitement underpins every kiss with Aramis, even if the kiss itself may be given in sometimes sad or worrying situations.

•and his eyes, they’re intense, they’re dark and warm and full of a whole promise that you absolutely cannot resist!

•his hands slip round your waist, they’re large and strong as they tug your body close and slip up your back- one hand slips into your hair and scratches your scalp softly.

•and then slowly, oh impossibly slowly, for all of time has trickled back to a snail pace, his lips, those soft, plump cushions come into contact with yours.

•it’s hot, right from the get go he’s in charge, he’s setting the pace and speed, he’s the one that’s leading the kiss. And it’s breathtaking. Aramis is a phenomenal kisser!

•it’s a conversation of lust and passion, and you melt into it every single time he kisses you! Your hands slip onto his chest and feel the pounding of his heart under your palms, the heat from his body rolls into yours. He’s solid and real and insistent! His facial hair, that well groomed, beautiful hair, tickles your face…just as it will go on to tickle your neck when he eventually starts to kiss down your neck, as he invariably does.

•there is no such thing as a short kiss with Aramis. Even the shortest of pecks lasts a little while. A kiss means more than simply lust or a desire to put your lips together, oh yes, a kiss is a message, it has a special meaning! Whether it’s a good morning kiss, a I missed you kiss, a please don’t leave me kiss, a forgive me kiss, a you look so beautiful kiss, every kiss conveys a message, and you get that message loud and clear every time!

•and every kiss is like the first. Everytime his lips meet yours, setting off an explosion of fireworks in your body, you’re swept away in the intensity of the passion!

#bbc musketeers #the muskeeters headcanons #the three musketeers #musketeers #musketeers x reader #musketeers headcanons #musketeers imagine #aramis #aramis x reader #aramis headcanons #aramis imagine #tw kissing

[thorin-is-a-cuddler]

How do you think Aramis hugs would be? It's something I'd love to experience, to just be warm and safe and comforted by his presence. ^_^

THE QUESTION OF THE YEAR HAS JUST BEEN ASKED!! 😱 I can write you an essay on this matter!! I, too, seek the comfort and the peace that his physical affection seems to promise ;___; I‘ve always wondered why he‘s my favorite character out of the four, but I guess it‘s just his warmth and his beauty and his cheekiness :-) You have to know that there are a thousand ways Aramis can hug and here are a few:

1.) You haven‘t seen each other in a while. Him, away on a mission in freaking England, you, staying in Paris, working as a spy for Treville. When he returns, riding into the court of Musketeer‘s Corps, he whistles a very specific sound and you immediately know it‘s him. Running down the stairs from your room you find him dismounting his horse, dirtied, disheveled, beard grown out. But his smile lights up the evening dawn and you run towards him, throwing yourself in his arms. Your feet leave the ground and he catches you, like he always does, and he smells only of horse, but his arms around your back chase away the chill of loneliness and you stay right there, as he leads his horse to the stable, as he offers the stable staff a Franc for their work. You stay there, as he starts walking up the stairs to your room and as he sits down on the armchair opposite your bed, keeping you on his lap and talking quietly about the last weeks.

2.) You are in a moooood. And he wants to convince you to come to the King‘s Ball. But you just want to peel apples for a pie and maybe to throw them at passing idiots. So suddenly his arms are around your middle and he pulls you off the bank, your back against his chest, your legs kicking reflexively as your lungs produce an inhuman shriek. He keeps you locked right there, starting to sway over the cobblestone as if you two were dancing. „You cannot rob me of at least one dance.“ He twirls you around and you feel your darkness fall off like a curtain and your laughter rings through the air, making his smile grow wide. You agree eventually and at the ball you feel so much pride when he offers you his hand in his uniform, knowing he feels just the same way when you take his hand.

3.) You are sitting on the meadow, Athos and Porthos are snoring in the sun, d‘Artagnan and Constance are walking beneath the shadows of the trees and you and your brother are making flower-crowns. He puts his on your head and calls you the Flower Queen and you feel carefree and happy and rob over to him on your knees, opening your arms and pulling him close against you. It‘s a hug from the side, his left arm goes all around your back as his right one stretches over to go around your shoulders. He buries his nose in your hair, kisses the top of your head. You look over the wide field behind him and just enjoy the peacefulness.

4.) It‘s your fault, really, for wanting to fight him. Now you can barely breathe from laughing, as he easily throws you over his shoulder and starts turning around as if looking for you. You try to hold on to his white shirt as he starts dropping you further and further towards the ground, his hands on your ankle and your leg. It‘s when your fingers find his sides, digging into them from behind, that he ends the act of „looking for you“. His surprised laugh always sounds a little breathless, huffed like he‘d just heard a joke. His wiggling motions to try and get away from the ticklish feeling make it look like he‘s dancing. He obviously can not get away without dropping you, so he quickly changes tactics, pulling you off his back and into his arms. He traps you in his embrace, as he dips his head under your chin to blow a long raspberry on your neck, and you start squealing as his fingers find your ribs on either side of his hugging arms. You end up on the ground, calling out for truth and he lets up, grinning and you‘re grateful for this brother of yours.

#aramis #sister reader #aramis imagine #hugs

[roennq]

Aramis: What's wrong?

D'Artagnan: I just got a look from Athos. Sometimes, I wish I knew...

Aramis: *interrupts* Here...

The Many Faces of Athos: A Beginner's Guide

D'Artagnan: ...

D'Artagnan: *eyes light up*

Aramis: *smugly* You're welcome!

Part 2/3 | 3/3

#bbc musketeers #the musketeers #athos #aramis #d’artagnan #the many faces of athos #a beginner's guide #imagining d’artagnan holding it up each time athos makes a face #actually i think we can all use that guide #image prompt #humour #incorrect quotes #lol #tom burke #santiago cabrera #luke pasqualino

[wingsofhcpe]

thinking of Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan celebrating new year's together... drinking to each other, to their brotherhood, laughing and knocking onto each other drunkenly, Aramis falling asleep on Porthos' shoulder, d'Artagnan counting the fireworks, Athos smiling fondly as he realises that all he's ever wanted in life is right there in front of him.

#bbc musketeers #the musketeers #athos #porthos #aramis #d'artagnan #comte de la fere #porthos du vallon #rene d'herblay #idk what the french do for new years. esp what they did back in the 1600s lol #but in greece we cut the vasilopita which is a special cake or tsoureki with a little coin hidden at the bottom #we cut a slice for each family member/friend/ etc #and whoever gets the coin in their slice 'wins' #(symbolises wealth and prosperity and is based on the legend of saint vasilios of eastern orthodo #*orthodoxy #so now i imagine the boys doing that #(treville is like my grandma and he secretly hid 4 coins in the vasilopita and strategically cut the slices so all 4 of his sons would win.)

[widevibratobitch]

in terror, four lieutenants; in t3m, four musketeers. Conclusion?

conclusion - same as always: destiny.

but wait oh christ okay. they even kinda fit...

you've got the og trio of

Wet Pathetic Loser

Deeply Religious Guy

Fancy Lad

which ig would make dundy... d'artagnan?? no. no oh god ok. listen. d'artagnan is jopson im afraid:

1. has a deeply homoerotic father/son relationship with a suicidal alcoholic

2. is actually kinda obsessed with him tbh

3. doesn't really start out as One Of Them, has to wait quite some time to get promoted

4. big part of the fandom actually ships him with little aka our athos

it makes sense you gotta believe me it does it does

#it absolutely doesn't #idk who dundy could be tbh... #ig if you squinted reeeeeally hard you could make him into a quasi mordaunt #since little is our athos equivalent #(that should honestly be crozier but for the sake of making our three musketeers/three lieutenants parallel lets go with little) #and the way little and dundy end up... look dundy is the only surviving officer of erebus. #gore and fitzjames die because life sucks but fairholme's death is arguably crozier's fault #and since in this strange parallel world athos is apparently split into crozier and little... #and since a very popular fandom headcanon is that little is the one to ultimately kill dundy.... #i have no idea where im going with this and with all my love to irving #imagining him as an aramis equivalent made me throw up in my mouth a little. #i guess aramis would have to be an insane combination of irving and hickey?? so ig he should kill uhh himself? shit omg wait #he does have a SA in the books..... #oh yeah it's all coming together #(<-lies. this makes no fucking sense) #pizza you've sent my mind into a spiral of eternal damnation im grasping at straws to make some ✨parallels✨ #unfortunately im like a vampire in this case. #if you throw at me a bunch of potential parallels i cannot move a muscle until ive found counted and picked them all up #i hate it here #im not even tagging it this post is fucking shameful pathetic and desperate #and yeah hodgson is porthos im afraid deal with that #ask

[musketeermaiden]

So we all know Aramis as- well, Aramis, right? But all I've been thinking about is how technically his name is René.

Aramis is just an "alias." And that thought has been plaguing me. How did he get it- why doesn't he go by René anymore, if he ever did? I've never read the books, but for all my google searching I can't find an answer. And what does that, combined with my bbc show fixated brain result in...

Well, a lovely little headcanon of course! We know Aramis grew up with his mother in the brothel, at least for a little while. So I like to think that she named him Aramis. Maybe she never got it put on a birth certificate- because of the lack of a father or her profession or what have you.

But then Aramis' father comes to take him away, and from what I recall he was more well off. Definitely of higher class than a prostitute in the eyes of 17th century France. His children would have a birth certificate. And because I am an avid lover of Aramis' mother, and a hater of his father, the man definitely wouldn't see "Aramis" as a "fitting" name. So when he gets the legal side all sorted- our beloved Aramis is actually named René, under the law at least.

And Aramis would hate it- not only would suddenly being called something totally different be weird, but Aramis loves his mother. He loves the name she gave him.

Which is why we know him as Aramis. As soon as he was out from under his father's thumb, René was gone and Aramis was back. He signed up for the Musketeers under that name- legal papers be damned. It's Aramis' own way of showing his love for his mother, while also speaking out against his father.

He was never René. He was always Aramis.

#the amount of headcanons I have for this man #absolutely wild #and nothing anyone can say will change my mind #Aramis d'Herblay the depth you have in my imagination is unmatched #no one was strong enough to do it #so I'll do it myself #aramis #the musketeers #bbc musketeers #aramis d'herblay #headcanon #musketeer headcanon #aramis headcanon #santiago cabrera

[the-three-whumpeteers]

Nobody that knew the whumpee even suspected that the whumper wasn’t their friend. The whumper had managed to convince everyone that they and the whumpee were the best of friends- and the injuries the whumpee had were really from them being clumsy during little misadventures they had. The whumpee has tried to tell people, but it’s like the whumper has perfect control of everything.

#whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumpee #aramis stabs someone #whump prompts #injuries #whumper #yea I can imagine that this situation has a tag but I am big dumb

[tadpal]

sorry for being an aramis girl 🙄. as if it's my fault.

#tad talks #aramis #the three musketeers #im LOVING the book so much you cant imagine

[backtothefanfiction]

Just some quick Aramis fluffy angst…

A/N- just a little sword fighting teaching, a bit of sass and a bit of lip locking.

“What am I going to do with you?” He asked, placing his hat back atop his head with a small shake.

“What?!” You cried out indignantly, turning your head back towards him. “What did I do wrong now?!”

“Everything.” He said, staring you down.

You frowned. You hadn’t thought you were doing that badly. When you had asked him to give you some sword fighting lessons, you had never imagined it would be this hard.

This was your third lesson now and apparently you were still doing everything wrong.

“Drop into your stance again.” He said, stepping forward to you as you spread your feet apart, one set slightly in front of the other, your body at an angle. You held up your left arm for balance, whilst the right with his sword in your hand, rose up behind you.

“Of course when you’re not moving you stand perfectly.” He sighed, lifting the front of his hat up and wiping the sweat from his brow, exasperatedly. “Okay, now move into your second position- and no.” He immediately said as you swiped your arm forward through the air, the tip of the sword now tickling the tops of the long grass of the meadow.

“You’ve let your arms go all floppy.” He sighed, “And look at the way your body is now angled.” You rolled your eyes. “You wanted me to teach you, didn’t you?” He questioned, eyebrows raised, as he caught your sass filled gaze.

“I just didn’t think it was gonna be this hard.” You whined.

“You want me to teach you how to defend yourself properly or not?” He huffed, arms folding across his chest as you relaxed your stance.

“Yes.” You said, looking to the ground and shuffling your feet across the dirt. “But, isn’t there a quicker and easier way-“

“If you don’t want me to teach you-“ he cut you off, his hands lifting, shoulders raising, as he began to turn away.

“No. NO!” You said, stopping him and he slowly turned back to you. He lifted his eyebrows at you expectantly. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry. Please teach me.” You said, eating humble pie.

He smiled. “Okay. But only because I am so merciful. And because I can never deny a pretty woman of knowing how to defend herself.”

Your eyes narrowed, “You think I’m pretty.” You teased.

“Oh, shut up.” He said. “Back to your first position.” He instructed. But as his fingers brushed against yours, his body pressing flush to your back as he guided your body in how it should move, his breath tickling the exposed skin of your neck, you couldn’t deny- that if this is what it took to get him to touch you, you’d pretend to be bad at sword fighting everyday.

THREE WEEKS LATER

“You sure you’ve got this?” He asked as you circled each other.

“Oh, I know I’ve got this.” You challenged.

“Okay then.” He smirked, as he made the first move; charging forward at you, his sword cutting through the air towards you.

You quickly blocked it with you own and when he lifted it for a second sharp blow, you narrowly dodged it, letting it swing wide.

“Is that all you got.” You teased, as you continued to dance around him.

“Oh, you want more, I’ll give you more.”

He charged at you again. You met him blow for blow, ducking and twisting around, stepping side step, after side step. Although he had more experience, you had lightness and agility on your side from years of dance practice. You toyed with him like a cat would with a mouse, batting back and forth, circling around and around until he was dizzy. Until you were able to hook under his arm, your leg tripping his as you knelt at his feet and he fell flat on his back in the dirt. You seized the moment of his surprise to disarm him with a quick flick of your sword, before pinning his body under your own, your sword held teasingly to his neck.

He chuckled and smiled. “I do believe the student had become the master…. Almost.” Although you were agile, he had more muscle to throw around than you. He quickly rolled you both over, his hand jabbing at your bicep and you reflexively released the sword in your hand for him to take.

He loomed over you, a devilish and teasing look in his eyes and in his smirk. You rolled your eyes in defeat, but were caught off guard by the sound of the sword hitting the dirt beside your head and his lips smashing against your own. “Always such sass.” He said when he pulled away.

“Well, when it gets a reaction like that from you…” you teased and he merely smiled and let out a small breathy chuckle that seemed to say ‘touché’, before he once against fixed his lips to yours.

#aramis x reader #aramis imagine #aramis musketeers #aramis #the musketeers bbc #bbc the musketeers #musketeers imagine #the musketeers imagine #fluff #angst

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Honor and Espionage Part One

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 3284

Summary: The newest member of the team is abruptly introduced to Aramis’ wife- a high-ranking spy for the Musketeers who may be in over her head on her new assignment.

Notes: The chokehold that Aramis has on me is unreal. I love this man to the ends of the earth. Also, I had to make another Les Mis reference. Expect a lot of them in these imagines. 

Warning: Mild violence, some steaminess, the usual for these boys

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

D’Artagnan still didn’t understand why they were there to begin with. The assignment made sense enough. Gather information, don’t approach the targets, and try not to cause any fights while at it. But the four of them had sat in the noisy tavern for hours now and there was no sign of anyone remotely resembling the treacherous representative of Savoy they were meant to spy on. 

“What if he doesn’t show up?” He whispered to the man across the table.

Aramis raised a brow. “Do you doubt Treville’s intel?” He smirked with his usual teasing mischief and patted the younger man on the arm. “Don’t worry, D’Artagnan. I’m sure our patience will be rewarded with at least something interesting.” 

He gazed over at the man Ambassador Laurent was supposed to be meeting- presumably to discuss secret information regarding the King’s plans of trade with Spain. The well-dressed middle-man bellowed flirtations to the woman whose back was turned to them, his face reddened with how much wine she’d brought him. Judging by the disinteresting angle of her head, his efforts were very much wasted. 

Then the woman stood and said something they couldn’t quite hear, but made Aramis’s brows furrow. She drew her hood up over her curled hair and slinked out of the tavern through the back entrance. The man stretched his arms and walked over to the counter to order another drink. 

D’Artagnan’s brain rushed around dozens of thoughts and settled on the possibility that the mystery woman could have been working with the ambassador. If not, she may have heard something of interest from the drunk and could be passing it on to another party, possibly even worse than the ambassador. 

“I’m going to go see where she’s off to,” D’Artagnan said.

“Wait-” Aramis started, but the young man was already halfway across the room. 

Aramis let the woman’s voice echo in his head. He may not have heard her words, but he knew that tone. He knew the curve of her neck and the curl of her pinned-up hair. But before he could follow D’Artagnan, and thus the woman, Athos’s instruction prevented him. 

“He’s here,” Athos hissed, motioning with his eyes for Aramis to remain where he was. Sure enough, the betraying bastard waltzed into the tavern with a grin on his face and an arrogant air about him. So, despite his nerves itching for him to move, Aramis remained while D’Artagnan sought out the cloaked woman. 

D’Artagnan moved without a sound down the alley behind the tavern, eyes scanning for the slightest motion to reveal where the woman had gone. A flash of cape caught the lamplight. He followed. The suspicious air about her exit further confirmed his suspicion that she was not just another bar wench looking for extra funds. Something else was certainly afoot. 

Inside, a roar of commotion stopped him in his tracks. He tried to decipher what the frantic people inside were shouting and could make out one word. 

“Poison!” 

He stepped forward and felt something metal touch the back of his neck. A click rang through the dark. 

“Don’t take another step.” An arm snaked around his neck and the barrel of the pistol moved to his chin. The woman spoke close to his ear. “Who sent you? Who knows about me?” 

“Madam, I assure you, I don’t know what you’re-”

She tightened her hold on his neck. “Do not play me for a fool, sir.”

The tavern’s occupants poured out of the front door in a panic. The Ambassador returned to his carriage and disappeared. 

Both D’Artagnan and the woman sighed with the same frustration. “Damn.” 

D’Artagnan’s brow furrowed in confusion. The woman stiffened. 

“Do you work for the ambassador?” She hissed. 

“Do you?” 

Another click cut off their conversation. 

“Let the boy go.” 

The woman turned, spinning D’Artagnan along with her. Her arm around his neck twitched and her tone changed with surprise. 

“Porthos?”

The Musketeer let his pistol fall to his side. “Y/N?” 

“You two know each other?” D’Artagnan squeaked, the pistol still pressed to his head making him increasingly uncomfortable. 

“Y/N.” 

Your heart fluttered, any semblance of control now betrayed by your excitement. You let your arm fall away from the young man’s chest and turned back around, facing the opening of the alley. There, caught in the lamplight, dark eyes glistened with adoring astonishment and a smile played across his lips. 

You gasped. “Aramis?” 

Forgetting where you were and the threat you’d just posed upon his compatriot, you dashed across the space dividing you and through your arms around him. His hands cupped your face as if making sure it was really you and pulled your lips to his. 

D’Artagnan, still breathless and reeling, whirled his head back and forth, from Porthos, to the couple, back to Porthos, back to the couple. 

“Would someone like to explain why Aramis is in the arms of the woman who just tried to kill me?” He exclaimed. 

“You followed me,” you quipped, taking a step forward in confrontation. Aramis tsked and held you back with an arm around your waist. 

“We were simply unaware of your being here, darling, otherwise I imagine things would have gone very differently.” He purred and pressed another kiss to your cheek before turning back to the younger trainee. “D’Artagnan.” He held out a hand to him, then to you. “Allow me to introduce Y/N D’Herblay, Captain of the Musketeers Covert Intelligence, and,” he held you tighter, “my wife.” 

D’Artagnan clamped his mouth shut to prevent his jaw from dropping in surprise. The smooth-talking Musketeer was married?

Horse’s shrill protests echoed down the street as the ambassador’s carriage tried to cut through the crowd of people trying to find out what happened. You laid a hand on your husband’s chest and urged him deeper into the shadows. 

“Perhaps we should continue this introduction elsewhere, else my cover will be revealed,” you said. 

He nodded and led you back into the tavern with a hand on the small of your back. 

D’Artagnan, mouth now agape, watched the two of you go. 

“But-” 

“Come on,” Porthos huffed, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him inside. 

-

While Athos and Porthos dealt with the poisoned man you’d just met with, the other two Musketeers secured a private room in order to keep you hidden from any other investigating parties. Aramis’s hand never left yours, leading you and the man you’d nearly killed upstairs. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, darling,” you said once the door was shut behind you. “But what are you all doing here?”

“We could ask the same thing,” D’Artagnan exclaimed. 

You scoffed. “This is my assignment.” You turned an angry gaze on your husband. “Who is this?” Your voice rang through the room. Aramis held up his hands to try and calm you. 

“A moment, dear.” His charming smile was betrayed by anxiety in his eyes. “We mustn't lose our heads. There is a dead man downstairs.” 

“That she likely killed!” D’Artagnan quickly regretted his words, receiving warning glares from both of them. 

You let out a low sigh and removed your cloak, pacing across the small room. It was only then that Aramis saw how your hands shook. 

“I didn’t kill Baffier, I was using him to get closer to the ambassador.” 

Aramis nodded. “And you think Laurent killed him to prevent him from passing on information?” 

You looked at him with wide eyes and a fear that shot through his heart. 

“I don’t think the poison was meant for him.” 

Aramis’s face fell. Unable to bear the loving worry in his eyes, you turned to the open window to breathe in the night air. 

“You think Laurent knows about you?” D’Artagnan asked. Aramis was at your side in seconds, taking your hand in his.

“It’s ridiculous,” you sighed. “My life has been threatened countless times-”

“Countless times?” Aramis exclaimed. You raised a brow. “Sorry, love. Continue.” 

Your breathing turned shaky and you looked away again. “But to have someone die in my place…” 

Aramis lifted your chin with his finger, eyes alight and staring deeply into yours. 

“If you think your position has been compromised, then it is too dangerous for you to remain here. We must return you to Paris immediately.” 

You shook your head and pushed away from him. “All Laurent knows is my name. Thanks to Baffier- God rest his soul- I now have an invitation to a very important dinner where I will hopefully learn the extent of the ambassador's plans.” 

“You can’t be serious,” your husband exasperated. “We have no way of knowing if all he knows is your name. Baffier could very well have been the one to sell you out, or even poison you!” Deep brown eyes pleaded with yours. “You cannot continue.” 

“Fortunately, dear, you are not the one who gives me orders,” you snapped. “This dinner has been what Treville and I have been working toward for months. I’m not going to let a small threat get in the way.”

“I doubt the dead man downstairs would agree with your assessment of this threat level!” He shouted, more out of panic than of anger. 

“She’s right, Aramis.” Athos, having come from the havoc downstairs, closed the door behind him as he entered.  “A barmaid confessed to mixing Y/N’s drink and that Baffier accidentally drank from the wrong cup.” He crossed the room to the couple and spoke again before Aramis could interject. “But she cannot surrender the opportunity to get the closest to Laurent we’ve ever been.” 

“But you’ve just said it!” Aramis exclaimed. “One attempt has already been made on her life. How is that possibly not enough to convince Treville sending her would be a mistake.” 

“The barmaid said that it was Baffier who threatened her into poisoning Y/N’s wine,” Athos said. “He hadn’t the chance to reveal the truth about her to Laurent because the fool fell on his own sword. Y/N’s mission will go on as planned.” 

Aramis stepped forward, but you took his arm to calm him. 

Athos turned to you. “When are you set to leave for the ambassador’s estate?” 

“Day after next,” you answered, hand still on your husband’s shoulder. The lie formed a necessary lump in your throat. You just needed to buy yourself some time.  “The dinner is to celebrate his success as an advisor to the king.” Your last words were thick with irony. 

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to prepare and we’ll have plenty of time to ensure you aren’t walking into a trap.” Athos nodded and headed back for the door. He motioned for D’Artagnan to follow. “Everything is taken care of downstairs. The local authorities are taking Baffier and the barmaid.” A small smile crept onto his lips as he looked between the two of you. “And the room is paid for through the night. We’ll reconvene at dawn.” 

The two men left and the room fell into a tense silence. You began to pace again. 

“We agreed when we married that we wouldn’t interfere with each other’s work,” you sighed. “I know it isn’t easy. Lord knows how many nights I’ve spent wondering if you were alive or dead.” You stopped, feet firm on the ground and head high. “But I have to do this. It may be the only way to know the extent of Laurent’s plans.” 

Aramis closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and returned his gaze to yours. 

“I know.” 

You were taken aback. Frankly, you hadn’t expected the argument to be over so quickly. Usually, the two of you could debate from dusk til dawn. But Aramis knew that when your mind was set, there was no changing it. Still, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins forced your tongue. 

“I still don’t understand what you are doing here to begin with. Treville can’t have sent you to keep an eye on me, he trusts me more than that. I wonder-”

Aramis stopped you with a kiss. 

“My love,” he started, breathing a sigh against your lips. “We haven’t seen each other in weeks. I had hoped our reunion would be a little less argumentative.” Soothing hands traveled up and down your spine. He moved his kisses along your collarbone. 

“In all of the fuss, I’d almost forgotten how much I missed you,” you laughed, tangling your fingers in his chocolate-colored locks. 

As suspected, the room- and your adrenaline- were put to very good use. 

-

Aramis woke to an empty bed and for a moment a wave of panic rushed over him. He sat straight up and called out your name before he saw the sun outside his window and remembered Athos’ instructions from the night before. Ease comforted him, but only for a moment. He remembered why you were here in the first place and a new set of worries filled his mind. 

“You’re late.” Porthos peaked through a crack in the door. “May I come in? Are the two of you decent?” 

Aramis let out a deep sigh. “It’s just me. Y/N must have already gone downstairs.” 

Porthos swung the door open. Perplexion painted his features. 

“No, she hasn’t.” 

The two exchanged a glance of frustrated understanding and Aramis hurried to collect his clothes. 

“I should have known,” he muttered. 

“Why would she have taken off?” Porthos asked. “We’re here to help her.” 

Aramis secured his trousers and pulled his billowing shirt over his head. He grabbed the rest of his belongings and met his fellow musketeer at the door with a scowl. 

“Exactly.” 

Porthos held out an arm to stop him. “What’s that?” He jerked his chin at the table beside the bed where a small roll of paper sat with a ribbon tied around it. Aramis picked it up and held the thin fabric between his fingers. You’d worn it in your hair the night before. The parchment contained a single sentence written in your delicate handwriting. 

“I have to do this,” Aramis read with a grimace. He crumpled the page in his fist and gave a ferocious glare to his companion. 

“Don’t look at me,” Porthos huffed. “You’re the one that married her.” 

Aramis shoved past him and thundered down the stairs where Athos and D’Artagnan were waiting. Athos turned and his face fell with confusion to see only the two men descending. It took only a moment and a glance at Aramis’s fiery and frantic expression to understand. 

“She’s going alone, isn’t she?” He sighed. He ran a hand down his face. “I suspected this may happen. That’s why I secured the room, so that you may keep an eye on her.” Athos glared pointedly at your husband. 

“I assure you, if I had known her plot I would have tied her down,” Aramis said. Porthos raised a brow, earning a smack. “Not like that, you idiot.” 

D’Artagnan, who’d been silent until now, coughed and looked guiltily down at the floor. “She left around 5:00 this morning.” 

Aramis had his hand on his collar in a flash. “You saw her leave and didn’t think to, I don’t know, wake me?” 

“Actually,” D’Artagnan gulped. “I spoke to her.” 

“I fail to see how that helps you in this instance.”

“I let her go because she’s right.” The younger man gently removed Aramis’s hands from his shirt and took a cautious step back. “If the ambassador so much as theorizes that we may be onto him, it would be much more dangerous for her than if she were to simply go alone.”

“Then why did Treville send us if he's the one that assigned her?” Porthos asked. 

“He sent us to find out who Laurent was meeting and why, not to infiltrate his likely well-guarded home,” Athos said. He thought for a moment, noting Aramis’s chest heave with his breathing. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t observe from afar just in case anything goes amiss. Laurent’s estate will take nearly all day to reach. We should leave now.” 

Aramis was the first to the door, but he was stopped by the youngest member of their group. 

“What now?” He hissed. 

D’Artagnan reached a hand into his pocket and held something in his fist. “She was afraid it would be too dangerous to have on her person and asked me if you’d look after it for her.” 

He opened his hand, a small band of gold sitting in his gloved palm. Aramis picked it up. The inscription glittered in the morning sunlight and pierced his heart. 

L’amour Vainc Tout. 

Love conquers all. 

He brought the ring to his lips and muttered a prayer against the metal that you were right. 

-

The carriage jostled, worsening the nerves that twisted your stomach. You took a deep breath and attempted to clear your mind. Whispers of the night before teased your memory, the phantom of Aramis’s lips still burning your skin. You glanced out of the window at the French countryside, nearing the Savoyan border. 

He’d be awake now, worried and probably furious. No. Definitely furious. You could see his fuming face now as the other musketeers likely tried to calm him. The younger one- D’Artagnan- would hopefully have told them what you’d said to convince him to let him go. Athos would see the logic and would prevent your husband from acting rashly and storming Laurent’s estate. 

You hoped. 

Either way, by the time they arrived, you would be well into your mission of charming Laurent and his rich companions to gather the information Treville needed in order to sway the king’s opinion on Laurent and his treachery. 

“If I could halt all the violence in the world so we didn’t have to do what we do, I would,” Aramis had whispered as you laid together in the darkness of the night before. 

You’d laughed against his chest. “No, you wouldn’t.” In between words, you had kissed up the length of his neck until you reached his lips. “Because neither of us would know what to do with ourselves if we didn’t have something to fight for.” 

Aramis remained in your thoughts for the rest of the journey, though when you saw the grand house come out from over the hill, you forced his smile to the back of your mind and, like a lever in your chest, switched on your flattering facade that allowed you to do your work with a smile. Ever the perfect spy. 

Your legs ached from the hours of travel and you took a moment to stretch them as you stepped out of the carriage and onto the stone path that stretched through the front gardens and up to the ambassador’s mansion. The sun had already started to dip below the horizon and servants lit candles in the parlor. 

“This way, Madame…” The butler began. 

“Mademoiselle de Valjean,” you beamed. You took the invitation you’d procured from Baffier and handed it to him with a graceful motion. “I’m a close friend of the Duchess of Savoy and I’m just dying to make the ambassador’s acquaintance.” 

“I’m sure you are.” A new voice sounded from the shadows. A maid lit another candle and revealed a dazzling pair of hazel eyes alight in the flame. She put on a smile that matched your own as you hid your surprise well. The woman you only knew as Milady de Winter crossed the parlor and took your hands in hers. “Madame de Valjean, how lovely it is to see you again.” She said your false name with a knowing glint in her eye. 

This was going to be more difficult than you thought.

-

#Aramis #the musketeers imagine #the musketeers bbc #the musketeers #santiago cabrera #aramis x reader #aramis imagine

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

[ID: Rios in his captain's chair on La Sirena, talking and gesturing while holding a book in one hand. /end ID]

I just really miss him like this.

#cristobal rios #aramis in space #santiago cabrera #let's imagine he's heading a book club meeting with agnes and his holos

[chromaji]

apparently if you do the Soldraga stage in Drakenhold first, THEN go rescue Gloucester, you get some different dialogue... I'll def need to remember this next run.

#i can imagine it has to do with alain already knowing aramis was a prince #by doing soldraga first

[widevibratobitch]

Hiiiiiiii I animefied your man

smh you got the wrong one...

see this may just be the only anime i respect since what they did to my man (aside from making him blond - a common crime alas) is they transed him and babyyyyy im munching on that shit like a starving british white boy in the arctic on his dead colleagues bones <3

waiter! more trans aramis rights! asap!

#aramis invented gender #its true. god told me that. #sorry miky i forgor about your ask 💀 but you apparently forgor who my man is so. i say we're even 🖕 #the three musketeers #look im all for transing aramis i really am. but please. #please give us her black black hair his black black eyes and their black black soul back #it's so important to me yall cant even imagine

[longagoitwastuesday]

I've also been reading the three musketeers and the thesis chapter had me Cackling. the clowning on learning latin in particular and aramis as a character constantly emphasizing that being part of the higher sought after and hard-to-get-into regiment of the king's musketeers is just kind of a temp job for him is so funny. character of all time. (also bazin wanting aramis to be a abbe so bad is so good)

Disclaimer that I was actually not reading the book, just giving a look and toying with the idea of reading it soon. In fact I was reading something else, but the chapter was so funny I've abandoned it and will probably start The three musketeers instead xD

Yes! Bazin was so funny. While reading him I couldn't help but be reminded of Smee wanting to leave Neverland and done with Hook's obsession for Peter Pan. Aramis dismissing being a musketeer is hilarious, but it becomes particularly funny after reading Cyrano de Bergerac, where Cyrano mentions being a musketeer wistfully a couple of times. While I was reading the play I kept thinking that Cyrano's aspirations were basically to be Aramis haha

The use of Latin each character (the curate, the Jesuit, D'Artagnan and Aramis) does was indeed very funny, as well as insightful. I ended up reading a paper on the command each of the four protagonists has of Latin, and I loved the comparison it established between Athos and Aramis. I don't have an opinion on this formed because I have yet to read the book, which is a good thing (it will hopefully keep me from rambling), but I found what I read super interesting.

The chapter was very funny, and I felt Dumas managed everything very well? I loved the writing itself. Every part of the chapter worked wonderfully as a whole to enhance every aspect, making the funny parts more fun and drawing a more clear lively depiction of the characters.

By that I mean, basically, that even from the initial interaction between D'Artagnan and the hostess in which he asks for Aramis and she goes "the charming hot guy?" we can see Aramis' hypocrisy and unsteadiness by a mile. It's hilarious to read the chapter and see how Aramis ends up contradicting everything he does or says, at times not even that long after saying it xD

Which takes me to the thesis itself. Honestly, I loved the topics. I know they're supposed to sound a bit ridiculous and funny, but I thought Dumas conveyed very well the air of some of those intricate questions of theology that seem trifle but have a lot of implications, and end up being of a very poetic nature (such as the question about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, one of my all time favourite questions). I wasn't very interested on the topic of the hands until the Jesuit commented that sprinklers "simulate an infinite number of blessing fingers"; that's beautiful.

Now, the topic Aramis himself proposes is just gorgeous. The way he defends it with a syllogism is so clever of Dumas considering the link between theology and the development of Logic. Besides that, despite how unorthodox the topic may appear at first, as Aramis himself puts it, there is a lot of truth in what he says about the world being full of temptations and it being very much a sacrifice to leave it, and how there lies the devotional act. I ended up being very intrigued by the potential development of this thesis in a mix of appreciation of the world as God's creature, and thus the leaving of the world as an act of true love for God, of more importance; how instead of an easy surrender, the struggle and doubts are as much reflection of the condition of humanity's frailty as it is a more steady and full surrender to God.

The topic of Aramis' thesis is somewhat paradoxical yet sound, and reflects doubts, as well as an appreciation for the world, aesthetics and beauty; I think it reflects so much of what makes Aramis himself.

And then, again, there's the whole hypocrisy through the entire chapter (which is what makes it for me haha). The way he says he isn't defending a regret at renouncing the world while proposing the thesis, that the mere idea is sacrilegious, how he insists he won't miss it, that friends are but shadows and the world a grave, and still how his resolution wavers almost instantly with his "And yet, while I still hold to the earth, I would have liked to talk with you, about you, about our friends" (and what a tender shaking), only to end up asking D'Artagnan to tell him about the world in the last line? Hilarious. What an hypocrite xD

But how extremely charming and adorable, I must admit! I love how when D'Artagnan tells him "But how are you going to live while you wait for me? No more thesis, no more commentaries on fingers and blessings, eh?", Aramis smiles and replies "I shall compose verses". Truly one of the characters of all time xD

#Aramis #The three musketeers #Les trois mousquetaires #I want to keep this to find later on. I'm truly sorry for the tags #And I'm sorry for talking a lot. I honestly tried to keep it short but there's so much I wanted to talk about‚ the chapter is so good #In fact there are a lot of things I haven't mentioned or developed that I loved #such as the fact that Dumas waves the chapters in such a way that that of Aramis starts with Porthos‚ while the chapter of Athos #starts with Aramis‚ linking the three friends together metatextually as they are linked together narratively by D'Artagnan visiting them #I also wanted to ask whether Aramis was the anon's favorite character and whether they had opinions on his position vs. Athos' for example #But the anon being an anon makes it hard to ask #I wanted to talk a bit about the developing of theology through paradoxes and Logic at times and how fitting that seemed for Aramis' thesis #He reminded me a bit of theologians such as Dionysius the Areopagite and Scotus Eriugena among others‚ and even Kierkegaard #But I must admit I always think too much about Neoplatonism and it's been long since I read these authors thoroughly so it may be a stretch #I had a lot of fun imagining the potential development of the thesis Aramis proposes though. Now I want the thesis now haha #And truly‚ the writing of the entire chapter was a thing of genius in how every little thing has later significance #to enhance something else. Such as the joke with Aramis moralising about the food‚ the conversation with the hostess‚ #D'Artagnan's overall discomfort as if mad fanatics‚the world as something to renounce but the instant temptation of asking for his friends‚ #the way D'Artagnan reads Aramis like a book and how he blushes and responds in poetic yet theological terms with too much fierceness #The way he blushes and exposes himself #And the entire thesis Aramis proposes being a good reflection on his character (no wonder he is adamant on pursuing that one #and only that one‚ like a calling). How the chapter and the thesis are a good summary on his character #But also how those lines I quoted‚ D'Artagnan asking what hell do and Aramis smiling and replying he'll write verses‚ are as well #Truly‚ the writing was so good. And yes‚ I agree with the anon completely #Character of all time #I suspect I'd love him immensely #Even in this chapter alone he was everything I wanted and more of what I didn't dare to expect. Now I just want to see him plotting #I loved these fragments so much that now I fear reading the entire book and being let down xD #Oh but I'm rambling again... #Anyway! Thank you for the ask and sorry it took me so long to reply. I had a lot of fun with it #Too much‚ that's why I took so long to reply. I read and reread and then I wasn't able to summarise. Thanks for indulging me in my fun xD