#anne: traumadcmp [aramis]

[ofprevioustimes]

Something in his reply drew her attention. Anne cast him a quick side glance, half curious and half cautious. The comment had been phrased in a faultlessly neutral fashion and his tone didn’t betray any particular feeling, and yet she’d sensed a hint of disapproval there, though the queen could not pinpoint what or where. Then, after no more than a second, she sighed and looked away. She didn’t press the issue: it was hardly in her best interests to go about measuring the perceptions that the soldiers of France had of Louis. His opinion of her royal husband didn’t disturb her, but something else did. For the briefest moment, Anne had felt like speaking her mind. She’d been noticing Aramis’ eyes: they were not hardened like those of a warrior, but gentle like those of a priest. It’d given her this foolish, unbecoming urge to open up to him. Her heart had been choking with so much fear, so much frustration, so much anger, even ungodly resentment... all of this since she’d been married to France. But she dared not. A man’s mind belonged to himself, but a musketeer would never speak ill of the king - nor should the queen. “Yes, I’m sure he would”, she said instead, with a crestfallen and noncommittal air. Anne had no intention of asking Louis to take her traveling through France. Even if he agreed, that would either mean that Richelieu would work hard to sabotage a plan that involved the king being away from his influence for too long, or that he would see it as an opportunity to take charge in his absence. She didn’t know which of the two possibilities was worse. Thus, casting aside every thought about this suggestion, Anne merely listened with an earnest interest to Aramis’ story. “Do you remember Spain?”, she asked, sending her gaze away with homesick longing, but this time she put the question to him in French in a forceful return to her unending state of self-restraint. [ @traumadcmp / from here. ]