#armis the musketeers

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Trois Surprises

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 6719

Summary: Aramis and the reader are changed forever by three joyous surprises. 

Notes: I write a lot of angst for him, but dammit, this man deserves to be happy. And I wanted to write him actually being able to spend time with his kids. Also, the title is ‘Three Surprises’ in French, I just didn’t know ‘surprises’ is spelled the same way. At least that’s what translate said. Please don’t come for me. This also doesn’t follow any plots from the show,  so ignore the timeline haha. 

More Musketeers HERE

-

I 

The garrison greeted you with metal clashing and the smell of sweat. Men shouted at each other across the way with language that was far from proper.  It didn’t bother you, of course. In your time frequenting the training area, you’d grown used to its oddities and eccentricities. 

A few of the men cheered to greet you and asked how you were or what brought you to the garrison, though they already had an idea. You were here for Aramis. You were always here for Aramis. Or for shooting lessons, which the captain had approved since you lived alone and association with the musketeers often led to trouble. 

“Y/N!” A boisterous voice called. Porthos hopped up from the table he sat at and crossed the courtyard. Not one for propriety, he pulled you into a hug without a second thought. You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “What brings you here?” 

He led you back to the table and brushed off the bench for you to sit. 

Athos tilted his hat. Unlike his companion, he enjoyed upholding some of the rules of society. “Mademoiselle Y/L/N.” 

“How many times must I tell you to call me Y/N?” You teased. 

“If I did, you wouldn’t have to tell me any more,” he smirked. “I assume you’re looking for Aramis.” 

You nodded. “I have important matters to discuss with him and Captain Treville.” 

The two exchanged a look. 

“Sounds serious,” Porthos said. “Anything we should know about?”

“All in good time, boys,” you beamed. “I promise I won’t leave you in the dark for too long.” 

D'Artagnan eyed you curiously. Perhaps your closest friend among Aramis’ companions, it was unusual for you not to share something with him. You gave him a reassuring nod and he trusted he’d find out what all this was about in due time. It didn’t stop his mind from searching the possibilities, though. 

The imploring silence only lasted a moment longer. 

“Y/N?” 

And just like that, at the sound of his voice, your knees turned soft and your heart stopped beating. Every nerve in your body seemed to bunch and twist in your belly. You turned, Aramis’s eyes sparkling at you in the morning light as a smile crept onto his face. 

“I had no idea you’d be here,” he grinned, kissing your cheek. 

“I had something I wanted to share with you before you galavanted off into danger somewhere.” The tremble in your voice made his face darken with worry. His gaze flicked to his companions and they took the hint, hurrying off to the side to give the two of you some privacy. You began to fidget with your cloak. “I hope my coming on short notice isn’t a nuisance.” 

“No, please.” He took your hands in his and brought them to his lips. “You are my favorite kind of surprise, darling.” His dark eyes looked deeply into yours. “Is something the matter?” 

“Not exactly…” You’d rehearsed the words numerous times and it was completely in vain. You might as well have been mute, standing before him with a blank, panicked expression, which of course only made him look more concerned. 

“My love, you’re starting to frighten me,” he laughed nervously and tucked a hair behind your ear. “You can tell me anything.” 

You took a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Porthos whispered. The three, having been observing from afar, watched on as you stared down at the dirt and Aramis lifted your chin with his finger. 

“That’s between the two of them,” Athos said. “It’s none of our business.” However, he did not, nor did the other two, turn away.

You said something none of them could hear. Aramis’s arms fell to his sides, face turned white as a sheet. His mouth floundered open and closed, unable to say anything. 

“You don’t think she’s broken things off, do you?” D’Artagnan asked. 

After a moment of this awkward, anxious tension that even they could feel from across the courtyard, Aramis seemed to snap to his senses. He lifted you off the ground and spun around, a smile as wide as the Seine spread across his face. Your laugh rang throughout the space and when he set you down, your arms hooked around his neck, lips locking together for longer than what was probably publicly acceptable. 

Athos turned to the youngest member of their group. “I take that as a no.” 

Aramis kissed you one… two… three… more times before you said something about going to the market and left, holding his hand until the last possible moment. 

When the marksman returned, his friends stood with brows raised and curious smiles. Porthos patted him on the back. 

“What to share what that was all about?” 

Still, with a starstruck grin, Aramis gazed around in a daze. Like before, his mouth fell open and nothing came out. He was sure his heart had stopped beating. Or perhaps it wasn’t there anymore. It was with you, as it always had been. Now more than ever. 

He looked up at his companions- his friends- the men he trusted with his life and the words simply fell from his lips. 

“Y/N’s pregnant.” 

-

“I don’t know if I can wait much longer,” you whined, breathing slowly and deeply as you took a seat at the table. 

Constance smiled. “You only have, what, a month or so to go?”

“Yes, and I feel like I’m the size of Notre Dame.” You laid a hand on your bulbous belly and laughed. “I look the size of Notre Dame.” 

“Nonsense,” she chuckled along with you, setting a plate of bread and bowl of stew in front of you. Constance peeked out the door and shook her head. “They’re late. Again.” Despite the playful annoyance in her voice, there was a sparkle in her eye. One you recognized well. 

“You know… D’Artagnan has been speaking of you more and more since I became pregnant. I dare say he even sounds hopeful.”

“Don’t start,” she swallowed. She took a rag and started to wipe down the table in order to avoid your gaze. “I, in case you’ve forgotten, am married to the man who supplies your fabrics. D’Artagnan and I are merely friends.” The younger woman glanced up at you with a kind of admiration. “It isn’t like what you and Aramis have.” 

You scoffed. “I’m his mistress.”

Her eyes softened with sincerity. She put a hand on your arm. “You’re a great deal more than that.” 

You averted your eyes, feeling the hint of tears begin in them and focused on the meal before you. Despite his adoration and his devotion, you knew not to hope for more than what you were given. And you had no complaints, of course, Aramis was the light of your life and to have his child was more than you ever imagined. But he was a hero. You were a seamstress. 

As if summoned by your brief sorrow, the door to the cottage opened and you heard two pairs of thundering steps coming down the hall. While not banished completely, your doubts were pushed to the back of your mind upon the sight of Aramis’s grinning face. 

“Sorry we’re late, ladies,” he said, removing his hat with a smug flare. “Paris needed saving.” 

“When doesn’t it?” You laughed. He leaned to place a kiss on your forehead, hand falling lovingly to your belly. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered against your skin. Aramis basked at the sight of you in the setting sun, golden rays streaming through the window. “Like an angel in heaven’s light.” 

A lovely pink color crept onto your cheeks. “You flatter me too much.” 

“My love, my words will never be enough.” Aramis brought your lips to his with passion and sweetness, despite the other two in the room. He set his weapons aside, his coat along with them, and sat next to you. Seeing the billowing sleeves of his shirt reminded you of your work earlier in the day. 

“I almost forgot, I repaired the tear in your shirt. I’ll have to go fetch it.” You started to stand- with more than a little effort- and he laid a hand on your shoulder to set you back down. 

“Please, don’t trouble yourself, darling.” He kissed you again. “I’ll get it.” As he sauntered into the other room, Constance gave you a knowing look you did your best to ignore. 

“Any news on the Red Guard?” D’Artagnan asked. You were glad of the change in subject, though Constance rolled her eyes at his abruptness. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t seem to be the favorite to stitch their uniforms ever since-” You motioned to the rather obvious reason at your middle. 

“Ah,” D’Artagnan nodded. “Right.”

Having made a reputation as having the most reliable repairs of any affordable seamstress in Paris, you’d often had members of the Red Guard come to you, as they were ‘too above’ mending anything themselves. It did, however, allow you to overhear things here and there, which you took to the musketeers. But keeping your relationship with Aramis a secret was hard enough. Now, with such a drastic change in your appearance, they’d kept their distance, though whether it was because you were unmarried or if they suspected you to be somewhat of a spy for your child’s father, you couldn’t tell. 

The two of you looked at each other for a moment before you couldn’t contain your laughter. D’Artagnan sat beside you and asked you questions of a lighter variety while you pleaded to hear of the day’s adventures. Aramis always worried he’d distress you, so you received all the juicy details from the youngest musketeer. Through your friendship with Constance, D’Artagnan had become one of your closest friends as well. 

A lull fell upon your conversation and you couldn't help but note how his eyes drifted back to your mutual companion by the fire. 

One day, you thought…

A sudden movement within you forced a gasp from your lips. Aramis returned to the room in seconds.

“Love, what is it? Did something happen?” He knelt by your side with loving, concerned eyes. 

“Yes,” you beamed, placing a hand where the movement was. You looked into his beautiful gaze and felt yourself overtaken by the excitement. “I believe he just kicked.” Gently, you took his hand and guided it to where you’d felt it. 

“He?” Aramis awed, raising a brow. 

You shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

Another motion fluttered against Aramis’s hand, this one stronger and almost more aggressive than the last. Aramis chuckled. 

“I think she may disagree with your feeling.” 

“Oh, a girl then, is it?” You smirked. 

He shrugged, mocking you affectionately. “Just a feeling.” 

-

II

He’d come as soon as he heard. All of them had. The four musketeers stood in the lobby of your shop, none of them able to sit down. Athos leaned against the wall, he and Porthos watching the windows as if for some dastardly foe. D’Artagnan tried to distract himself by sharpening his sword. Aramis paced at the foot of the stairs leading up to your rooms. 

The midwife wouldn’t allow him to be with you, despite his protests. Only Constance was permitted to accompany her in tending to you. It took all three men to hold him back when your screaming began. 

Hours of this hell passed. He paced until he was sure the soles of his boots would scuff clean off. 

“Can I ask you something?” Porthos asked. He hoped to distract his friend from his pain but, in truth, it was something they’d all been wondering for months. Aramis stopped his hurried steps and turned with a nod. Porthos swallowed. “Why haven’t you married her?” 

“Porthos now is hardly the occasion,” Athos scolded. 

“We have to talk about something, else we’ll all go mad with her up there.” 

Aramis held up a hand to silence them both. The three waited with bated breath as he looked up, wishing to float through the ceiling and be by your side. 

“Because she doubts me,” he said with an unexpected sadness in his voice. He looked back at them. “She doesn’t believe that my love for her is genuine. I can feel it when her smile falters or when her hand falls from mine.” He turned away. “To ask her for her hand because of the child… it would only prove what she believes.” Aramis clenched his fist at his side, then relaxed it again. This idleness would destroy him if this was not soon over. “I could not force her to marry a man that she doubts.” 

The others nodded in understanding, though none of them truly understood, especially D’Artagnan.

 He’d never seen two people who loved each other more than you and Aramis. He wanted to scream at both of them until his throat was sore if he thought it would help. Seeing the two of you so clouded with your own doubts hurt him more than he could say. The younger man just couldn’t fathom it. He’d give anything to have the opportunity to marry the woman he loved.

The matter of your reputation, of course, had already been discussed. You told anyone who discovered your condition that you’d married while away in Gascony and that your husband was a merchant who traveled often and you always met with him back in Gascony. Most people didn’t care enough to gossip about an orphaned woman with little prospects to begin with. It’d been your idea to lie and Aramis accepted it as you being as unsure of him as you thought he was of you. 

What killed him the most, despite his charming demeanor and always knowing the right words for the right people, was that he had no idea how to convey to you how he truly felt. He reminded you of his love every moment he had with you, and yet he knew you didn’t fully believe it. What else could he do but keep trying? 

Another aching shriek echoed through the chamber, followed by a silence, and then… cries. An infant’s wailing filled the house. 

Aramis raced up the stairs before the others could stop him. 

The door to your bedroom opened and Constance stepped out, quickly closing it behind her. She had a bundle in her arms. The auburn-haired woman beamed at him. 

“Would you like to meet your son?” 

Suddenly, he couldn’t move. He just stared at Constance, stunned, as the baby continued to cry. It was as if he’d forgotten how to use his limbs, everything numb with a strange mix of disbelief and utter joy. 

A son. 

He stepped forward and spoke with a shaking voice. “Y-yes.” He felt like a child himself, standing before her with arms outstretched. 

Constance, still grinning, gently placed the wriggling bundle into his awaiting embrace. 

He couldn’t believe how small he was. His son. A tiny fist reached out. Aramis gave him his pinky to grasp onto, his little fingers not even able to wrap all the way around the digit. He rocked the baby in his arms, cooing slightly. The boy stopped crying. 

“I have a son,” he gasped. He turned to the stairs, where his three friends had gathered at the bottom. His tone raised to a cheer. “I have a son!” 

A chorus of joyous hollers and applause filled the stairwell. 

The celebration, however, was cut short as another round of your screaming cries The boy in his arms began wailing again. He held him a little closer to soothe him, but Aramis had gone white. 

“What’s happening?” He asked. 

Constance shook her head. “I-I don’t know. I thought everything was fine.” 

A guttural grunt. Another scream. 

Aramis passed his son back to Constance and started toward your door. The three men had already climbed the stairs with worried expressions.

“You aren’t supposed to-” Constance started, but she stopped as soon as she saw Aramis’s look of absolute panic. 

He burst through the door.  

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Aramis rushed to your side, brushing a sweat-soaked strand of hair away from your cheek. 

“Aramis?” You muttered, almost dreamily. 

“You shouldn’t be in here monsieur,” the midwife scolded. 

Your knees were pulled up before her. He tried not to look, for the bed sheets were slick with blood and it only made him panic even more. He, instead, looked into your eyes and you looked into his, the comfort of those dark brown irises grounding you through the pain. 

“Something’s… happening…” You took heaving breaths in between your words. His hand found yours and you held onto it with a near-crushing grip. 

“There’s another,” the midwife said. 

Both of your heads snapped up to look at her and you spoke at the same time. 

“What?!” 

She peered up at you, cast a disapproving look at the father, but decided it was too late to force him out of the room. 

“Just as we did before,” she instructed. “Ready? Three… two…” 

-

For the first time, there was quiet. 

The midwife had gone, having gathered the soiled blankets and bowls of water. Aramis sat beside you, one arm around your shoulders, your son blinking up at both of you from your embrace. With the other arm, he held your daughter. 

“I doubt I’ll ever understand what I’ve done in my life,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, “to deserve all of this.” 

You turned your head to kiss his lips lightly, reaching a hand to caress your daughter’s soft cheek. 

“It seems impossible for two things so perfect to come into my life at once,” you mused, bringing your hand up to his face. “And you… to have you for as long as I have. I can’t imagine what I’ve done to be so blessed.” 

Aramis leaned into your touch, the hair of his beard tickling your palm as he nuzzled your skin. Those near-ebony eyes looked into yours with a love more powerful than he’d ever felt before. He wanted, right there, to ask you to marry him. 

A knock at the door was followed by Constance peeking her head into the room with an excited, but exasperated expression. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold them off,” she laughed. “I haven’t told them anything, like you asked, other than that everything is alright, but I don’t think they’ll believe me until they see you.” 

Aramis chuckled, the vibration rumbling against you. Your daughter stirred against his chest, stretching her tiny arms toward him. He leaned to kiss her forehead. 

You beamed. “Let them in.” 

Constance nodded, smile growing, and turned back to the door.

“Be quiet, all of you,” she ordered. “I don’t want you scaring them.”

D’Artagnan’s brows drew together as he stepped in first. 

“Them?”  

As the two others piled in behind him, all halted abruptly, their eyes darting between you and Aramis and the not one, but two infants in your arms. Confusion turned to shock and finally to unbridled excitement. 

“Twins!” Athos exclaimed with one of the first real smiles you’d ever seen on his face. 

Porthos was still glancing between the two. “Twins?” 

It was D’Artagnan who stepped forward first and placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his joy for you clear in his dark eyes. 

“It’s incredible,” he said. He glanced up at Aramis with the same warm kinship. “I can’t begin to say how happy I am. For both of you.” 

The other two gathered on Aramis’s side of the bed and shared similar congratulations. 

“Have you thought of names?” Porthos asked. 

“Actually, we thought we’d get your thoughts,” Aramis said, glancing over at you with a smirk. He touched a finger to your daughter’s nose. “For her, we were thinking of Christine.” She swatted at his finger lightly, making her father laugh again. “She’s quite the fighter already, hm?” 

“I wonder where she gets that from,” Porthos smiled and patted him on the back. 

“For our son,” you took a deep breath and looked up at your friend beside you. “We thought Charles would be fitting.” 

D’Artagnan’s mouth fell open and his eyes filled with even more admiration and feeling than before, which didn’t seem possible. 

“C-Charles?” He asked, as if he’d heard you wrong. 

Aramis nodded. “Charles.” 

“But only if you’ll allow it,” you said, reaching for his hand. “You’ve just been such a good friend to me- to us- and I hoped you would be his godfather as well, but if-”

He took your hand and brought it to his lips. “I would be honored.” His voice was heavy with emotion, tears of joy welling in his eyes. 

“We’ve already asked Constance to be godmother to them both,” Aramis said. He turned to his best friend. “I was hoping, Porthos, that-”

“Do you even have to ask?” Porthos chuckled. He leaned over your daughter and made a face. 

She started to cry. 

“Congratulations,” Aramis sighed. “You’ve already frightened off your goddaughter.” 

Porthos made another face and she stopped. He raised a brow at Aramis, beaming. You snickered at their antics. 

“They are beautiful children,” Athos said, leaning against the dresser. “I can’t say enough how happy I am for the two of you.” 

“Oh don’t feel left out, Athos,” Porthos teased. “I’m sure you can be godfather to the next one.” 

You snorted. “I think he may have to wait a while for that.” Everyone in the room laughed. D’Artagnan gazed down at your son, still trying to hold back tears. 

“Would you like to hold him?” 

He gulped. “Can I?” 

You smiled and carefully handed your son to his namesake. Aramis did the same with your daughter, slowly putting her in Porthos’s arms. And just like that, you watched the two grown men turn to puppies, all wide eyes and cooing smiles. 

A happy tear rolled down your cheek. Aramis pulled you closed and kissed it away. You knew, more than anything in the world, that your children would be safe. And they would be loved. 

III

He rocked the child in his arms with the whispers of a lullaby on his lips. 

“Lullay, thou little tiny child,” he sang softly, “bye, bye, lully, lullay. Thou little tiny child, bye, bye, lully, lullay…” Aramis smiled and kissed his sleeping son’s forehead before laying him gently in his crib. Charles’s nose twitched and he stretched his tiny arms but didn’t stir. 

Aramis watched him in wonder. Ten months and he still couldn’t quite believe all of this was real. His heart ached from being so full. 

A small clattering sound drew his attention away and he felt his heart stop in a panic. Aramis rushed across the nursery and plucked his daughter from the floor before she could pull another one of his swords off of the table where he’d placed them. 

“Christine d’Herblay, how many times must I tell you to leave Papa’s things alone?” He scolded, nuzzling her cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hurt yourself, darling.” 

She leaned into his embrace, looking up at him with those big eyes with a perfectly innocent expression. Quite cunning, he thought, for a toddler. Of course, he melted instantly and began bouncing her up and down. Her bell-like laughter filled the room, as well as his chest. 

The door to the nursery opened and you stepped in with messy hair stuck down by sweat from your exhaustive day and a harrowed expression. Your eyes fell upon the sheathed weapon on the floor. 

“I tell her to leave them,” Aramis said. “But she doesn’t listen to me.” He tickled her side, earning more laughter. “Just like your mother, aren’t you?” 

You didn’t laugh. Instead, you sighed and stooped to pick up his sword from the ground. From there, you began picking up everything you could find, tidying up the room in a flustered hurry. Aramis placed Christine in her crib beside Charles’s and took your hands in his to stop your anxious movements. 

“What’s happened?” 

You bowed your head. “Nothing.” 

“Y/N…” He sighed, laying a hand on your cheek. You pulled away. 

“It’s this Rocheforte.” You ran your fingers through your hair, more aware than ever of their lack of ring. “He isn’t like the cardinal- which I thought would be a good thing- but he’s somehow worse. He’s suspicious and- and cunning, and his men are asking more and more questions when I’m called there to repair uniforms.” Your rambling caught in your throat, paired with tired tears. 

“What can I do?” Aramis asked. “You know it pains me to see you in distress. Just say the word, and I’ll have the heads of half of the Red Guard by sundown.” 

“It isn’t just them.” You shook your head. “I’m just… so tired of lying, Aramis.” 

Christine made a cooing sound. Charles yawned. 

Aramis stepped toward you. “Then let us make it the truth.” 

You paused, making sure you’d heard him correctly. Aramis continued. 

“Marry me and none of this will matter. You can stop spying for Treville and the Red Guards will have the whole of the musketeers to face if they bother you again.” 

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, but you wiped them hastily away. At first, he thought they were tears of joy, but the closer Aramis looked, he knew he was wrong. 

“I will handle Rochefortes prying myself. He’s likely figured out you are the true father and is just trying to frighten me into admitting it.” 

“Y/N, I don’t understand. The solution for this is simple-”

“I will not doom you to a life you don’t want simply because it is the simplest answer!” you said, louder than you’d meant to. Charles awoke with shrieking cries. 

“A life I don’t want?” Aramis scoffed, trying to hide his hurt. “What are you talking about?”

“My answer is no, Aramis.” You moved to pick up your screaming son. “Marrying is clearly something you’ve never wanted and I’m not going to allow you to sacrifice anything for me when the children and I have done just fine in the current situation.”

Aramis reached for both of you. 

Christine started to cry as well. 

“Y/N-”

“I think you should leave.” You didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you focused on your children in order to hide your sorrow from their father. “I’ll watch them now.” 

Aramis didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to kick himself for his insensitivity. He’d known of your doubts for so long and yet he sprung marriage on you as if it were nothing more than a way to fix a problem. 

“If that is what you wish,” he sighed and left, closing the door behind him while the children’s crying followed him out. 

He knew how he felt. He just needed to prove it to you.  

-

You saw no one else for the remainder of the evening. Only your children kept you company, and even they seemed more interested in empty spools rolling around on the floor. Not that you minded. With them so distracted, you found it easier to let yourself cry. 

He asked you to marry him. 

How many times had you dreamt of Aramis saying those words and yet now they felt like musket shots to your heart. He saw you as a burden. A duty to fulfill. You could never live like that, even if it meant being free of the jeers of the Red Guard. 

You only wished you could regret ever involving yourself with the musketeer, but your heart forbade it. Whether or not he felt the same, your love for Aramis had given you the world. The proof sat before you with their carefree laughter. Your son and daughter with their smiles just like their father’s. The time you’d gotten with them, with him, was worth all of the heartache. 

It was late when you finally got them both to go to sleep. One was always waking the other, but eventually, Charles and Christine laid in their cribs and soundly drifted off. 

You tried to finish up some work on a dress order at the table in the nursery,, but found your eyes unable to stay open. You must have fallen asleep as well, for the next time you opened them, the morning sun greeted you.

And the children were gone. 

You were awake in an instant, tearing through your small apartment, but finding nothing. It wasn’t until you could hear Charles’ laughter that you hurried down the stairs, finding your son in the lap of his namesake and Christine grasping at a flower that Athos held over her playfully. 

“Morning,” Porthos greeted. 

You smacked the back of his head. “Don’t do that,” you exasperated, “I thought they’d been taken by miscreants or something.” 

“We just didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” D’Artagnan smiled. 

“What are you talking about?”

“It seems we are replacing you, for the day,” Athos explained, picking up Christine to give her to you. “The three of us are to deliver your finished orders.” 

“While the four of us spend this beautiful day out, as a family,” Aramis said, having appeared in the doorway with a basket in hand and dressed in a casual tunic rather than his uniform. 

Your heart fluttered at the thought, but your mind refused to give in so easily. After all, it was only the night before that you’d nearly cried yourself to sleep over the discussion you’d had with the man before you. But the charming smile on his face and the look in his eye made it awfully difficult to argue. 

“I don’t know.” You made a point not to look at him. “I have so much still to do and-”

D’Artagnan stood, picking up your son and raising his brow at you. “Take the day, Y/N,” he said. “You deserve to rest.” 

“Plus, he’s been going mad all night, which has driven all of us mad, as well,” Porthos muttered, motioning to his nervous friend in the doorway. “Go on,” he encouraged. “What trouble could we get into delivering a bunch of dresses and coats?” 

“I don’t really like to think about it,” you frowned. 

“I will make sure that everything gets to its proper place,” Athos assured you, making you feel a little bit better. 

Aramis stepped inside, taking Charles from D’Artagnan and giving you a pleading glance. 

“It’s a beautiful day, my love,” he said. “Let us spend it as a family.” 

Any lingering frustration you’d felt from the night before was no match for his soft, wanting tone. And beneath his charisma, you knew that there was something else. Something far more serious. Whatever it was, you knew it was better to talk now than dance around it while the two of you buried yourselves in your work. 

“I suppose I can spare one day,” you said. 

Porthos and D’Artagnan cheered but were silenced by a look of annoyance from Athos. Aramis just lit up, kissing your cheek. 

“You won’t regret it,” he whispered against your skin. But when he turned back to the door, son in his arms and his two girls behind him, he muttered to himself, “I hope.”

-

It was the first moment of peace you’d experienced in months. The only sound- other than the occasional cheer or coo from one of the children- was the slight breeze through the meadow flowers. The morning passed like dandelion seeds floating through the air. 

Charles and Christine crawled around and explored the small plot of grass you’d found for them. Christine chased a butterfly and Charles plucked a light blue flower from its stem and brought it back to your lap. 

“I see he’s inherited your charm,” you said, taking in the blossom’s sweet scent. 

“And she your spirit,” Aramis pointed out, gesturing to the feisty toddler who was nearing the edge of the grass. He rolled onto his side and caught her in his arms before she could get too far. She whined, but only for a moment, before settling against his chest. 

Despite the wonder of the morning, there was the crawling under your skin, whispers of your doubts reminding you of the hopes you’d felt had been dashed by your own fear. The fear that all of this would be gone in an instant. That he would finally tire of you and the life you’ve built and he would galavant off into the arms of another woman, into another battle, another fight he could not win. 

You understood, then, looking at him under the swaying shadows of the willow tree above you, perhaps that was why you allowed your doubts to persist. Though you cared so deeply for him, you kept him at arm's length because the idea of him leaving of his own will was easier to take than a musket ball piercing his heart or a dagger across his throat.

The realization brought tears to your eyes. You bit your lip to hide the trembling, but Aramis knew in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, my love,” he sighed. He set Christine beside her brother, both of whom had fallen asleep on the blanket. Aramis laid a hand on your cheek. “I fear I’ve made a grave mistake in the years we’ve spent together.” 

You sucked in a breath and bowed your head, preparing for his regrets, his change of heart, and his announcement he was going to leave. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your face back to his. 

“I have known you believe me to be with you out of a sense of duty. I have allowed you to believe that you are little more than a distraction grown into an obligation.” Taking your hands in his, his voice softened due to the overwhelming emotion in his tone. Now it was him trying to hide his tears. “I have wished my words of devotion were enough to convince you, but my actions last night have done just the opposite and for that, I deeply apologize.”

“Aramis-” You started, but he stopped you with a squeeze of your hand. 

“I love you,” he said. He kissed the inside of your wrist, dark eyes watching you, so full of adoration and care that you held back a sob. Aramis held your palm to his cheek. “Every breath of every day belongs to you. Every beat of my heart is devoted to our family. Not out of any sense of duty. In fact, you’ve tangled my senses all together.” He chuckled, the lovely sound vibrating up your arm. “I can’t tell sunset from sunrise because you are my new sun. I don’t know which way is south because you are my north star.”

You found yourself leaning into him until you were but a few shallow breaths apart. Aramis turned his gaze to the sleeping children beside you. 

“You have made me a father,” he beamed. “A dream I’d forgotten I had. You have made me a better man. Better than I thought I was capable of being. You are not an obligation, Y/N.” His eyes returned to yours and he drew even closer to you. “You are everything.”

His fingers laced into your hair and pulled your lips to his, silencing any of your cries. You kissed him with a passion like no other, but mostly you kissed him with belief. 

When you parted, you both smiled tearfully. 

Aramis continued. 

“Which is why-” He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, but it was no use. You left him completely breathless. “I ask you once more, to do me the honor of making me your husband.” He kissed the trail of tears on your cheek. “Y/N, will you marry me?” 

“Aramis, I-” Your mind searched your heart for a reason to say no. It warned of loss and heartbreak. But you found that, no matter what, your guarded feelings would only be in vain. Your heart could not be protected by you alone because it did not belong to you. You pressed your lips to Aramis’s and whispered against them. “Yes. My answer is yes.” 

-

You spent the rest of the day taking Christine and Charles around the city, proudly walking side by side. A few people whispered as you went by and several Red Guards glared, but quickly looked away with one deadly glance from your fiance. 

The sun began to dip in the sky by the time you returned to the shop. 

To your surprise- and much to your relief- the other men managed to get through a day without destroying anything, which was a fair accomplishment for them. Any conversation between them ceased when the four of you entered. 

“Welcome back,” Athos said. 

Three pairs of eyes stared expectantly. 

“So…” D’Artagnan needn’t voice his question. He could tell from the light in your eyes what the answer would be. 

You merely gave them all a simple nod and they practically leapt with joy. 

With the children placed in their chairs, Porthos pulled Aramis into a crushing hug, D’Artagnan kissed your cheek, and Athos smiled brightly at you both, all voicing their congratulations. 

“I take it the final part of the plan is still in motion?” Porthos asked with a wink. 

“What final part?” You asked. 

Aramis ran a hand through his hair, nerves returning. 

“Well, now that everything is settled and you haven’t decided that you’ve had enough of me,” he said. “These fine gentlemen have agreed to watch Christine and Charles while you and I partake in a romantic evening together.”

“The picnic in the meadow wasn’t romantic enough for you?” You snickered. “I don’t want to take any more of their time.” 

“It’s no trouble, at all,” D’Artagnan said. “Constance will be joining us as well.” 

You gave him a suggestive smile. “I see.”

He rolled his eyes. “I think you’d better just find out what your last surprise is for today and let us take care of everything else.” 

“We’ll take very good care of them,” Athos promised. “And I’ll make sure these two don’t get into any trouble while you’re gone.” 

“As if you’re one to talk.” Porthos slapped him on the back. He quirked a brow at the couple before him. “Go enjoy your evening. We’ll drop them off in the morning.”

“But I still don’t understand.” You looked in between the four of them. “You all speak as if we have somewhere else to go. Unless you’re suggesting the garrison…”

Aramis reached for your hand with a smirk. “Just follow me.” 

You kissed the children goodnight and thanked the men one more time before allowing Armis to lead you back down the street in the direction of the garrison. He stopped, however, at a building he’d made a point to admire earlier in the day. 

“As much as I find the apartment above your shop charming, I thought this may be better suited to fit a family,” he said. 

It was a small structure, but there was a cozy feeling to its appearance as well. The potential to become a home. 

“It’s the perfect distance between the shop and the garrison, so neither of us would have to travel very far. I know it isn’t much, but Treville gave me an advance on my commission and the others chipped in as well. And I figured I could spend time fixing it up for us in between missions. I think, given some time and effort, it could be-”

You stopped him with a kiss. 

“I love it,” you smiled. “And I love you.” 

Aramis’s face split with a grin and he scooped you into his arms, kissing you deeply, despite the people passing you by. 

“Wait,” you said, putting a hand on his chest. You raised a brow in amusement. “You bought this before you asked me to marry you. What if…” 

He chuckled. “I was just really hoping you’d say yes.” 

You pulled him into another kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair. With your hearts full and the first evening you’d had to yourselves since the children were born, he wasted little time carrying you inside and kicking the door shut behind you. 

[illustratus]

The Profession of Arms (2001)

[amnesiacprophetphotography]

A very fun trip to Fort George this summer to see the 1812 reenactment. As I get older the camp life stuff and work in the kitchen becomes a lot more interesting than just the drill and soldiering (still fun). Met lots of great people and learned a lot of cool stuff.

[bantarleton]

A new video exploring the use of riflemen by British forces during the American Revolution. A follow up to this one about American long rifles.

[ketchuplaser]

Triangle bayonet FTW!

[clove-pinks]

A British Brown Bess flintlock musket in the Fort Meigs museum. I love how my phone camera picked up the royal cypher of George III.

[sirensofthefiveseas]

Tag Drop

Squirrel Nurse; Tristan threads

Inuarashi Musketeer Squad; Wanda threads

Night Time Guardian; Milky threads

That's No Ordinary Rabbit; Carrot threads

East Army Commander; Ginny threads

Sun Pirate Revolutionist; Koala threads

Voice of Rebellion; Belo Betty threads

Milk Maiden; Moda threads

Jorōgumo Oiran; Black Maria threads

Hidden Histories; Toki threads

Lingering Snow; Kiku threads

Dango maker; O-Tama threads

[rhynerd]

In middle school I started making little guys with paper and then tore and folded the paper so they could stand on their own.

In high school, I used index cards instead, and added a pair of scissors and sometimes also some clear tape to my tools used.

Late last year, many of my little guys from high school were found and put together into one box.

Today, I opened that box up and took some photos:

A lot of them could use some tape to keep them standing up properly.

[kirbyddd]

lalalala i cant hear youuuuuu

[roosterarts]

The 8th Ohio Volunteer Infantry Regiment was raised in Cleveland, Ohio, in response to President Abraham Lincoln's 1861 call for 75,000 to put down the rebellion. Initially the regiment was supposed to serve for only three months. However, many of its members reenlisted for three years of service and so the regiment would continue to exist until 1864.

It's most famous moment was during the 3rd day of the battle of Gettysburg, when the regiment was placed ahead of the Union line at Cemetery ridge. At this position they were able to fire upon the left flank of Brockenbrough's during (the misnamed) Pickett's charge.

Featuring: @temper-temper

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Knowing the Steps

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words:3566

Summary: Keeping your relationship a secret can have its excitements, but during a ball, you wish you could be open about your love. Aramis tries to make it up to you.

Notes: Not going to lie, this was definitely inspired by watching Santiago as Count Vronsky. The dancing scene just made me melt! Anyway, I thought he deserved another fluffier piece since I write a lot of angst and drama for my musketeer boys. This ended up being a bit more bittersweet than I thought, but I like how it turned out. I also wrote this at work, so be warned, it’s definitely a little frazzled. 

More Musketeers HERE

-

Dazzling fabrics caught candlelight with every sway in the dance. Music swelled. People laughed merrily in their conversations around the room. For most, it was a beautiful scene of joy and prosperity. 

You, however, couldn’t be more bored. 

“And when we arrived back at the manor, why I don’t think there’s been a grander celebration in all of Paris,” some lord you couldn’t be bothered to learn the name of boasted. He looked to your cousin, and bowed. “Other than yours, of course, your majesty.”

“Well, I have to say I will be very disappointed if I am not invited to the next, monsieur,” the king jested, looking around to make sure everyone laughed. 

You forced an amused, airy sigh and wished for an excuse to leave. In your disinterested perusal, your eyes caught the glimmer of a hilt and the slight motion of a feathered hat. Suddenly, the party didn’t seem so boring anymore. 

The musketeer standing guard at the other end of the room caught you looking in his direction, bowing his head as a sly smirk spread across his lips. And, for the first time that evening, your smile was real. 

The person beside you cleared their throat, nudging your side gently. You jolted out of your daydreaming, relieved to find it was only Anne.

“Admiring the tapestry, hm?” She teased, motioning to the sewn decoration hanging above the group of musketeers. It was huge, gaudy, and far too elaborate to make any sense of, but you nodded as blush rushed to your cheeks.

“Yes,” you gulped, “It’s quite…. Um…”

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” She snickered. 

You both had to contain your laughter, even covering your mouth with your hand to keep from squawking like a bird. Still, the sound must have traveled across the room for you could just see your musketeer grin over at you before turning to his companions. 

Anne followed your gaze and smirked. 

“Ah,” she mused.” Aramis.”

Your face reddened even more. “Who? I’m sorry, I don’t know who you’re referring to, your majesty.”

“Between the two of us,” she leaned closer to you, “he’s always been my favorite.”

This time, you weren’t quick enough to conceal your laughter and an embarrassingly loud snort rang throughout the room. Anne nearly doubled over. You were sure you had to be the color of a tomato by now.

Across the room, Aramis put a finger to his smirking lips, whispering,

“Shhh.” 

Aramis winced as a hand swiftly smacked the back of his head. 

“Why not be a little more obvious. I’m sure the king will appreciate you displaying your relationship with his cousin,” Athos scolded. “Go ahead. I’m not sure he’s noticed yet.” 

“I think he’s busy frightening courtesans into laughing at his jokes,” D’Artagnan scoffed. 

Porthos nodded. “Besides, the queen’s definitely noticed by now and hasn’t ordered your execution yet.” He smacked his friend on the shoulder teasingly. “So it must be alright.”

“Don't’ encourage him,” Athos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Either of you.”

“But Athos,” D’Artagnan said dramatically, putting a hand on his heart for emphasis. “He loves her.” He and Porthos snickered like school girls. 

Aramis rolled his eyes. 

“Mock all you want,” he said, glancing back in your direction. “But it’s true.”

The four watched as the Duke of Rohan’s son led you out to the center of the room to begin the next dance. Aramis could see the disdain you were trying to hide and wished you were in his arms instead, that he could stand before everyone there and tell them he was yours and you were his. The jealous pang in his chest was matched by the admiration in his heart as you danced. 

Porthos pat him on the back again, this time with a sympathetic smile. 

“It’s alright,” he said. “She knows where her heart lies.” 

The Marquess spun you around so you were once again facing the group of musketeer guards. Your eyes met Aramis and your face fell. How you wanted to run to him and forget who you were in his embrace.

“Are you feeling alright?” Your dance partner asked, his overconfidence chipping as your cheeks paled and you stepped away from him. 

You could see your whole life before you. Loveless marriage. Leaving home. A lifetime of loneliness. Without Aramis. Your musketeer, gone forever in a joyous but distant memory. 

“I actually feel a little faint,” you gasped, suddenly out of breath. “Excuse me.”

An annoyed frown passed over his face. 

You scurried away, bumping into another pair as you rushed out of the room. Aramis forced himself not to run after you, worry overtaking all other thoughts. 

“Something’s wrong,” he said.

“Someone else will handle it.” Athos gave him a stern look.

Sure enough, the four noticed the queen whisper something to a lady in waiting and started across the ballroom toward the door. She cast a fleeting glance at Aramis and he discreetly nodded in reply. 

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” D’Artagnan tried to reassure him. “Perhaps a lace on her dress tore?” His optimistic tone was met with dark looks from the other three. “Right. I’ll walk around, see if I hear anything.”

Athos pinched the bridge of his nose. “We are all going to be beheaded.”

-

You laid across the chaise, your head buried in your hands to try and muffled your cries. You could just hear the quiet click of the door and a soft sigh. 

“Oh, my dear.” Anne hurried to your side, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders. She pulled you to her chest like a mother would her child or a caring older sister. “I’m afraid I don’t have to ask, do I?”

“If I could stop my heart if only to keep it from beating for him, I would,” you cried. “But it’s his. His completely.” 

“You poor, sweet girl,” Anne said, pushing back to brush a hair out of your face. “You never make things easy, hm?” She smiled at you. “But I guess love is never easy.”

You laughed through your tears. “Especially when it involves a musketeer.”

“You couldn't have at least fallen in love with a man from England or Italy or Spain to take you away from here. It had to be a member of your cousin’s guard?” She teased, glad to see your eyes brighten again.

“At least we know Louis likes him?” You grimaced.

“He wouldn’t if he knew Aramis had captured the heart of his favorite cousin.” 

You laid your head back on her shoulder, again choking back sobs. Anne stroked your hair. 

“What is it? Did the king say something?” 

“He doesn’t have to,” you sighed tearfully. “I know what life holds for me.”

Anne’s heart ached for you, remember well the weight of obligation. The wish to love and to live according to one’s desires rather than the orders of another person. If she could spare you the life you were both born into, she would. 

A quiet knock at the door alerted you and you hurriedly wiped the mess of tears from your cheeks. 

“Who is it?” Anne called, her regal, commanding voice returning. 

“Aramis of the King’s Musketeers.” Just the sound of his voice made your heart soar. “I was sent to… investigate a broken window.”

Anne turned to you, shaking her head as she walked across the room. 

“You’re both going to have to be better liars if this is going to work.”

She opened the door, revealing the anxious musketeer in the hall. He bowed, flashing a smile. 

“I trust things are all clear here, your majesty.” He said. 

She gave him a stern, but warm, look. 

“You have five minutes.” She glanced back at you. “Maybe ten.” Anne skirted around him and closed the door behind her. 

You were across the room and in his arms in seconds. Aramis locked you safely in his embrace, pressing his lips to your forehead, your cheek, and lastly your lips. 

“What’s happened? Are you hurt? Did that man upset you?” He asked between kisses. 

You shook your head still blinking back tears.

“No, it isn’t that,” you said. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Please.” He laid a hand on your cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong, my love.” 

You looked into his loving dark eyes and pulled him back to you for a kiss that said more than your words could. And he understood completely. 

What started as a distraction and thrilling secret for both of you had become so much more. The more he fell, the more he knew how much it would tear him apart when things inevitably went wrong. 

“I just felt so trapped,” you cried, laying your head against his chest. “So many people want a say in my life, especially my cousin! He can’t manage his own life, let alone mine.”

Had it been anyone else, you would have been punished for criticizing your king. But despite your relations, you tired of Louis’s childish impulses and complaints. Most of the time, he felt more like a young boy with a crown. 

“But I suppose if I’d taken power as young as he did, I might act the same way,” you sighed, leading Aramis to sit with you on the chaise. “I just wish things were different.” 

He brought your hand up, kissing the inside of your wrist while his mustache tickled your palm.

“We could leave,” he said softly. He turned toward the window, looking over the grandness of the garden with a lump in his throat. “Run away to Spain or England or anywhere, like we talked about.”

You pulled away, eyes wide with surprise. 

“We were never serious.”

“Maybe I am this time.” Aramis kissed you again with more urgency than he ever had before. You both realized then how much he meant it. 

You found yourself leaning into him, like a moth to a flame. Your hands trailed up his chest. A sigh escaped your lungs. Aramis chuckled, gently pushing you back with his hands on your arms. 

“I should go,” he said. “Athos already wants to hang me and I don’t think the queen would appreciate me disheveling your appearance.” He fixed a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. “You look beautiful.”

“I suppose I should return as well,” you sighed. “Else the king will lose his head.”

You kissed a final time before Arams hurried out of the room, looking back at you with total adoration. 

He checked to make sure there was no one in the hall, quietly clicked the door shut, and started back toward the ballroom. 

“Monsieur Aramis,” the queen’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

He turned on his heel and fell into a deep bow. 

“Thank you, your majesty. It seems that the window was a false-”

She held up her hand to silence him. 

“I just need to know one thing if I’m going to permit this to continue.” she held her head high, her mouth set in a thin line. “As you know, Y/N is family and I love her like she was my own sister.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“So I must ask you.” She stopped toward him. “Do you love her?”

Arams took a deep breath and stood a little taller, his determination and dedication clear in his eyes. 

“Yes, your majesty.”

Anne watched him for a long while. He almost felt like a prisoner awaiting sentencing, but even in her seriousness, he could sense a kind of affection. 

The queen nodded. 

“That’s all I needed,” she said and dismissed him. She went back in to join you and he continued down the hall, unsure of a number of things, but absolutely sure of something much more important. 

-

The guests had finally gone and Louis decided he’d cure his boredom by ordering a hunt. It came as a surprise to Captain Treville, however, to find that four of his musketeers had been requested to stay. The queen claimed that she was afraid one of her necklaces had been stolen and she knew that the four finest of Treville’s men would be able to solve the case. 

They were waiting in the courtyard when Aramis felt a sharp smack to his shoulder. 

“What. Did. You. Do?” Athos growled. 

Aramis shrugged, rubbing the now sore spot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Porthos sat beside him, holding Treville’s orders from the queen. 

“Why would she ask for us to find some piece of jewelry?” He asked. 

“Because it’s a lie,” Athos said, snatching the parchment to read it over. “I’m sure this is about something else.” He glared at Aramis, who held up his hands innocently. 

“She seemed perfectly aware and alright with the situation.” He thought for a moment. “Okay, maybe not perfectly alright with it-” Athos threw the paper down. “But she certainly didn’t seem like she was planning my execution!”

“What’s all this?” D’Artagnan joined, a bright grin spread across his face. 

“Visiting Madame De Bonacieux, were we?” Aramis teased.

“Don’t change the subject,” Athos snapped, handing D'Artagnan the letter.

“Oh, Constance mentioned something about this,” The youngest of them said. “Apparently we’re to meet her at the servant’s entrance near the gardens and she’ll take us to the queen.” He placed the paper back on the table. “She was very secretive about the whole thing.”

Athos frowned, thoughts of exile filling his head. 

“Don’t you think she would have told the king by now if she wanted action taken against me?” Aramis asked. 

Porthos scratched his chin. “Unless she wants to protect the Duchess from being discovered as well.”

“You know, Constance did say it was something very serious,” D’Artagnan added. He suppressed a smirk so as to not give anything away. He was under strict instructions from the queen herself not to spoil the surprise. Getting to watch Aramis and Athos squirm was just a bonus. He pat Aramis on the back. “We’d better get going. We don’t want to be late for our demise, do we?”

“That isn’t funny,” Athos growled. 

Aramis didn’t say a word. Too many thoughts plagued his mind for him to speak. He just put on his hat, took a deep breath, and went to ready his horse.

-

You had never been to this part of the palace. Anne led you down corridor after corridor and refused to tell you where you were going. The king and most of his courtesans were away all day to hunt and the rest of the palace, including all of the queen’s ladies in waiting, were searching for her missing jewelry. 

“Can you at least tell me why you’ve sent everyone running around for a necklace you don’t even like?” You asked. 

“I have asked you to trust me,” she giggled. “That is a command from your queen. Now come on!”

You could remember the last time you’d seen her like this. Whatever it was she had planned, she was certainly being sneaky about it. You just couldn’t imagine what could bring you to this side of the palace. 

Finally, Anne stopped outside of a large, ornate, but faded door. She smoothed out her dress, lifted her chin, and put on a very grave face. 

“Now, I need you to look very serious. If you smile, it shall ruin the surprise.”

“Alright, but-”

She threw the door open and stormed inside before you could finish. Following her, the only expression you could muster was one of shock as you stared at the scene before you. 

Aramis, Athos, Porthos, and D’Artagnan stood in the middle of a large, empty room with Constance leading them. At least three of the four men looked just as confused as you. All bowed as the two of you entered. 

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve had Madame de Bonacieux bring you here,” the queen began, sounding as grim and stern as ever. 

A chill ran up Aramis’ spine. Perhaps she had changed her mind. He wasn’t good enough. Of course, he wasn’t. You were a duchess. He was a soldier. How could the queen simply look the other way and allow this to continue?

You saw the growing panic on his face and touched Anne’s arm. 

“Your majesty, what’s going on?” You asked. 

She turned to you, finally smiling. 

“Please,” she beamed. “Today I am just Anne.” She faced the men again, discarding her serious facade. “You’ll have to excuse the theatrics. Even a queen is allowed her fun, every now and then.”

“Forgive me,” Athos said, bowing again. “I don’t understand.” 

“Is something the matter?” Aramis asked, looking over her shoulder at you. 

You shrugged, feeling just as flustered as he appeared. 

“Given the… circumstances of which we are all aware.” She glanced between you and Aramis, reaching back to take your hand. “I thought this would be the best opportunity for us to speak freely.” 

Everyone looked about the massive room, the boarded-up windows allowing for a little light to stream in. Anne smiled. 

“Don’t worry. This ballroom is part of the palace that has been sealed off since the past king died. No one will bother us here.”

Anne took your hand and motioned for Aramis to come forward, placing your hand in his. 

“I may not have the power to dissuade my husband's stubbornness or change the laws of this world,” she said. You could see the hint of tears in her eyes. “But if I can give you this moment to be happy…”

Forgetting the rules of propriety, you threw your arms around her. For the first time in your life, it truly felt like you had family. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

“No matter what, my dear, your heart is always your own to give.”

You stepped back, finding yourself in the arms of the man you loved. 

“Now.” Anne faced the rest of the group. “We may not have musicians or grand spreads of food, but we have good wine and good friends, so I thought we could make the most of things. You all spend so much time guarding these celebrations, you deserve to have one of your own.”

The four musketeers looked at each other. 

Porthos shrugged. “Sounds kind of nice to me,” he said. He stepped forward. “I know a couple of tunes that don’t require any of those instruments that they have at the balls. Just our voices and hands.”

He clapped, the sound ringing through the space. 

“Thank you for that demonstration,” Athos muttered. 

“That would be perfect, monsieur Porthos,” the queen grinned. 

And so the festivities commenced. Athos decided to watch the perimeter of the old ballroom, just in case, but couldn’t bring himself to refuse when the queen wanted to teach everyone a dance from Spain. 

Aramis sang quiet Spanish in your ear while everyone clapped and swayed around the room. 

The ballroom was alive with laughter and movement and joy. You were finally in your musketeer's arms, proclaiming your love to the people that mattered most to you.  It was the most fun you- and the queen- had ever had. 

There was no music, but there didn’t need to be. You twirled and skipped and sang and flew as if you were dancing amongst the clouds. Aramis put his hands on your waist and lifted you into the air, making your laughter echo all around.

“I wish it could always be this way,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. “I meant what I said. We could try.” He looked at you with such love and persistence in the face of obstacles that you knew he would leave everything behind for you. 

But as you spun around the room, you saw his friends, his brothers, his purpose. His place was with them, just as yours was with Anne and your cousin. You could never ask him to leave. 

“I love you,” you said, laying a hand on his chest. “And I will cherish every moment I have with you. But I will not take you from the life you love. Even if it means losing you. I can live with that decision as long as you are happy with them.” 

Aramis sighed, leaning his forehead against yours, forehead against yours, forgetting the eyes watching the two of you. He leaned forward just enough for his lips to brush against yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he cried. Aramis pulled you a little closer. “If I could change the world with only the love I have for you, I would.”

You lifted his chin so his eyes met yours. A bittersweet smile graced your lips.

“We may not have forever. But we have now,” you kissed him again, sweet but meaningful. “That’s enough for me.”

Aramis nodded and continued leading you across the floor in an unfamiliar dance, yet both of you knew the steps by heart. 

Anne stood with Constance and D’Artagnan, both had already danced until their feet were sore. Athos joined them and noticed the queen’s saddened features. 

“Is something wrong your majesty?” He asked. 

She blew out a breath. 

“I’m afraid I’m being rather cruel,” she said. “I’m showing them what they’ll never have.”

Athos shook his head, watching the couple with a deep understanding. 

“No, your majesty,” he said as Aramis lifted you once again, a smile returning to both your faces. “You’ve given them something to hold onto.”

[nationsandcannons]

Hey y’all, back again with the black powder rules that are at the heart of the Nations & Cannons campaign setting. This revision contains new artwork and significantly expanded historical research, some balance and formatting tweaks, additional types of black powder grenades, and a brand new optional mechanic for custom gunflints.

With the OGL under threat, I wanted to post this today loudly and proudly. Nations & Cannons is my dream project; I refuse to be intimidated, and I will find a way to continue to publish it and share new homebrew no matter what happens. As folks in New Hampshire are fond of saying: “Live free or die.”

Happy to answer any questions about the mechanics of Nations & Cannons, my experience as a third party publisher (3pp), or the importance of the OGL and how it uplifts small independent creators.

 GMBinder Link: Flintlock Firearms

[revolutionarywarhistory]

British "masters of the field" : The disaster at Brandywine

Illustration of the Battle of Brandywine, drawn by cartographer, engraver and illustrator Johann Martin Will (1727-1806) in 1777. Image is courtesy of the Library of Congress.

This post is reprinted from Academia.edu and my History Hermann WordPress blog. It was originally written in September 2016, one day after the anniversary of the battle, when I was a fellow at the Maryland State Archives for the Finding the Maryland 400 project. Enjoy!

On the night of September 10, 1777, many of the soldiers and commanding officers of the Continental Army sat around their campfires and listened to an ominous sermon that would predict the events of the following day. Chaplain Jeremias (or Joab) Trout declared that God was on their side and that

“we have met this evening perhaps for the last time…alike we have endured the cold and hunger, the contumely of the internal foe and the courage of foreign oppression…the sunlight…tomorrow…will glimmer on scenes of blood…Tomorrow morning we will go forth to battle…Many of us may fall tomorrow.” [1]

The following day, the Continentals would be badly defeated by the British and “scenes of blood” would indeed appear on the ground near Brandywine Creek.

In the previous month, a British flotilla consisting of 28 ships, loaded with over 12,000 troops, had sailed up the Chesapeake Bay. [2] They disembarked at the Head of Elk (now Elkton, Maryland) in July, under the command of Sir William Howe, and had one objective: to attack the American capital of Philadelphia. [3] Howe had planned to form a united front with John Burgoyne, but bad communication made this impossible. [4] At the same time, Burgoyne was preoccupied with fighting the Continental Army in Saratoga, where he ultimately surrendered later in the fall. With Howe’s redcoats, light dragoons, grenadiers, and artillerymen were Hessian soldiers fighting for the Crown. [5]

Opposing these forces were two sections of the Continental Army. The first was the main body of Continentals led by George Washington, consisting of light infantry, artillery, ordinary foot-soldiers, and militia from Pennsylvania and Maryland. The second was the Continental right wing commanded by John Sullivan, which consisted of infantry from New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Virginia, and Maryland. The latter was led by William Smallwood and included the First Maryland Regiment. Other Marylanders who participated in the battle included Walter Brooke Cox, Joseph Marbury, Daniel Rankins, Samuel Hamilton, John Toomy, John Brady, and Francis Reveley. While the British were nearby, the 15,000-man Continental Army fortified itself at Chadd’s Ford, sitting on Brandywine Creek in order to defend Philadelphia from British attack. [6]

A map by Johann Martin Will in early 1777, in the same set as the illustration of the battle at the beginning of this post, which shows British and Continental troop movements during the Battle of Brandywine.

The morning of September 11 was warm, still, and quiet in the Continental Army camp on the green and sloping area behind Brandywine Creek. [7] Civilians from surrounding towns who were favoring the Crown, the revolutionary cause, or were neutral watched the events that were about to unfold. [8]

Suddenly, at 8:00, the British, on the other side of the creek, began to bombard the Continental positions facing the creek complimented by Hessians firing their muskets. [9] However, these attacks were never meant as a direct assault on Continental lines. [10] Instead, the British wanted to cross the creek, which had few bridges, including one unguarded bridge called Jeffries’ Ford on Great Valley Road. As Howe engaged in a flanking maneuver, which he had used at the Battle of Brooklyn, the Marylanders would again find themselves on the front lines.

As the British continued their diversionary frontal attack on the Continental lines, thousands of them moved across the unguarded bridge that carried Great Valley Road over Brandywine Creek. Washington received reports about this British movement throughout the day but since these messages were inconsistent, he did not act on them until later. [11] At that point, he sent Sullivan’s wing, including Marylanders, to push back the advancing British flank. [12]

These Marylanders encountered seasoned Hessian troops who, when joined by British guards and grenadiers, attacked the Marylanders. Due to the precise and constant fire from Hessians and a British infantry charge with bayonets, the Marylanders fled in panic. [13] Lieutenant William Beatty of the Second Maryland Regiment, who would perish in the Battle of Hobkirk’s Hill, recounted this attack:

“…[in] the Middle of this Afternoon…a strong Body of the Enemy had Cross’d above our Army and were in full march to out-flank us; this Obliged our Right wing to Change their front…before this could be fully [executed]…the Enemy Appeared and made a very Brisk Attack which put the whole of our Right Wing to flight…this was not done without some Considerable loss on their side, as of the Right wing behaved Gallantly…the Attack was made on the Right, the British…made the fire…on all Quarters.” [14]

As a Marylanders endured a “severe cannonade” from the British, the main body of the Continental Army was in trouble. [15] Joseph Armstrong of Pennsylvania, a private in a Pennsylvania militia unit, described retreating after the British had crossed Brandywine Creek, and moved back even further, at 5:00, for eight or nine miles, with the British in hot pursuit. [16]

Despite the “heavy and well supported fire of small arms and artillery,” the Continentals could not stop the British and Hessian troops, who ultimately pushed the Americans into the nearby woods. [17] The British soldiers, exhausted and wearing wool, were able to push back the Continentals at 5:30 on that hot day. [18] As Washington would admit in his apologetic letter to the President of the Continental Congress, John Hancock, “…in this days engagement we have been obliged to leave the enemy masters of the field.” [19]

As the smoke cleared, the carnage was evident. Numerous Continentals were wounded, along with French military men such as the Marquis de Lafayette. [20] Despite Washington’s claim that “our loss of men is not…very considerable…[and] much less than the enemys,” about 200-300 were killed and 400 taken prisoner. [21] This would confirm Lieutenant Beatty’s claim that Continental losses included eight artillery pieces, “500 men killed, wounded and prisoners.” [22] In contrast, on the British side, fewer than a hundred were killed while as many as 500 were wounded. [23] Beatty’s assessment was that the British loss was “considerable” due to a “great deal of very heavy firing.” [24] Still, as victors, the British slept on the battlefield that night.

Not long after, the British engaged in a feint attack to draw away the Continental Army from Philadelphia and marched into the city without firing a shot, occupying it for the next ten months. [25] In the meantime, Congress fled to York, Pennsylvania, where it stayed until Philadelphia could be re-occupied in late June 1778.

In the months after the battle, the Continental Army chose who would be punished for the defeat. This went beyond John Adams’s response to the news of the battle: “…Is Philadelphia to be lost? If lost, is the cause lost? No–The cause is not lost but may be hurt.” [26] While Washington accepted no blame for the defeat, others were court-martialed. [27]

One man was strongly accused for the defeat: John Sullivan. While some, such as Charles Pickney, praised Sullivan for his “calmness and bravery” during the battle, a sentiment that numerous Maryland officers agreed with, others disagreed. [28] A member of Congress from North Carolina, Thomas Burke, claimed that Sullivan engaged in “evil conduct” leading to misfortune, and that Sullivan was “void of judgment and foresight.” [29] He said this as he attempted to remove Sullivan from his commanding position. Since Sullivan’s division mostly fled the battleground, even as some resisted British advances, and former Quaker Nathaniel Greene led a slow retreat, the blame of Sullivan is not a surprise. [30] Burke’s effort did not succeed since Maryland officers and soldiers admired Sullivan for his aggressive actions and bravery, winning him support. [31]

Another officer accused of misdeeds was a Marylander named William Courts, a veteran of the Battle of Brooklyn. He was accused of “cowardice at the Battle of Brandywine” and for talking to Major Peter Adams of the 7th Maryland Regiment with “impertinent, and abusive language” when Adams questioned Courts’ battlefield conduct. [32] Courts was ultimately acquitted, though he left the Army shortly afterwards. However, his case indicates that the Continental Army was looking for scapegoats for the defeat.

The rest of the remaining Continental Army marched off in the cover of darkness, preventing a battle the following day. They camped at Chester, on the other side of the Schuylkill River, where they stayed throughout late September. [33] Twenty-four days after the battle on the Brandywine, the Continental Army attacked the British camp at Germantown but foggy conditions led to friendly fire, annulling any chance for victory. [34] While it was a defeat, the Battle of Germantown served the revolutionary cause by raising hopes for the United States in the minds of European nobility. [35] It may have also convinced Howe to resign from the British Army, as commander of British forces in North America, later that month.

In the following months, the Continental Army continued to fight around Philadelphia and New Jersey. After the battle at Germantown, the British laid siege to Fort Mifflin on Mud Island for over a month. They also engaged in an intensified siege on Fort Mercer at Red Bank, leading to its surrender in late October. In an attempt to assist Continental forces, a detachment of Maryland volunteers under Lieutenant Colonel Samuel Smith were sent to fight in the battle at Fort Mifflin. [36] By November, the Continentals abandoned Fort Mifflin and retired to Valley Forge. Still, this hard-fought defense of the Fort denied the British use of the Delaware River, foiling their plans to further defeat Continental forces.

As the war went on, the First Maryland Regiment would fight in the northern colonies until 1780 in battles at Monmouth (1778) and Stony Point (1779) before moving to the Southern states as part of Greene’s southern campaign. [37] They would come face-to-face with formidable British forces again in battles at Camden (1780), Cowpens (1781), Guilford Courthouse (1781), and Eutaw Springs (1781). In the end, what the Scottish economist Adam Smith wrote in 1776 held true in the Battle of Brandywine and until the end of the war: that Americans would not voluntarily agree with British imperial control and would die to free themselves from such control. [38]

– Burkely Hermann, Maryland Society of the Sons of American Revolution Research Fellow, 2016.

Notes

[1] Collections of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, Vol. 1 (Merrehew & Thompson, 1853), 70-72; Lydia Minturn Post, Personal Recollections of the American Revolution: A Private Journal (ed. Sidney Barclay, New York: Rudd & Carleton, 1859), 207-218; Virginia Biography, Encyclopedia of Virginia Biography Vol. V (New York: Lewis Historical Publishing Company, 1915), 658. Courtesy of Ancestry.com; George F. Scheer, and Hugh F. Rankin, Rebels and Redcoats: The American Revolution Through the Eyes of Those who Fought and Lived It (New York: De Capo Press, 1957, reprint in 1987), 234. Trout, who was also a Reverend, would not survive the battle. While some records reprint his name as “Joab Traut,” other sources indicate that his first name was actually Jeremias and that his last name is sometimes spelled Trout.

[2] Andrew O’Shaughnessy, The Men Who Lost America: British Command During the Revolutionary War and the Preservation of the Empire (London: One World Publications, 2013), 254; Ferling, 177; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 87; “A Further Extract from the Examination of Joseph Galloway, Esq; by a Committee of the British House of Commons,” Maryland Journal, December 7, 1779, Baltimore, Vol. VI, issue 324, page 1.

[3] Washington thrown back at Brandywine, Chronicle of America (ed. Daniel Clifton, Mount Kisco, NY: Chronicle Publications, 1988), 163; “The Examination of Joseph Galloway, Esq; before the House of Commons,” Maryland Journal, November 23, 1779, Baltimore, Vol. VI, issue 322, page 1. Joseph Galloway, a former member of the Contintental Congress who later became favorable to the British Crown, claimed that inhabitants supplied the British on the way to Brandywine.

[4] Stanley Weintraub, Iron Tears: America’s Battle for Freedom, Britain’s Quagmire: 1775-1783 (New York: Free Press, 2005), 115.

[5] Bethany Collins, “8 Fast Facts About Hessians,” Journal of the American Revolution, August 19, 2014. Accessed August 31, 2016. They were called Hessians since many of them came from the German state of Hesse-Kassel, and many of them were led by Baron Wilhelm Von Knyphausen.

[6] Chronicle of America, 163; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 33. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 37. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 41. Courtesy of Fold3.com; The Annual Register or a View of the History, Politics, and Literature, for the Year 1777 (4th Edition, London: J. Dosley, 1794, 127-8; Mark Andrew Tacyn, “’To the End:’ The First Maryland Regiment and the American Revolution” (PhD diss., University of Maryland College Park, 1999), 137; The Winning of Independence, 1777-1783, American Military History (Washington D.C.: Center for Military History, 1989), 72-73.

[7] John E. Ferling, Setting the World Abaze: Washington, Adams, Jefferson, and the American Revolution (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 175-176; O’Shaughnessy, 107. O’Shaughnessy argues that the encampment at Chad’s Ford was an “excellent defensive position.”

[8] Thomas J. McGuire, The Philadelphia Campaign: Brandywine and the Fall of Philadelphia Vol. I (Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 2006), 172-173. Reportedly, some Quakers ignored the dueling armies and went about their daily business but others such as Joseph Townsend did watch the battle and worried about their fate if the British were to be victorious.

[9] Ferling, 175-176; “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” Maryland Historical Magazine June 1908. Vol. 3, no.2, 109. The British had endured two weeks of horrible weather conditions in their journey from Elkton.

[10] Tacyn, 138; Ferling, 175; O’Shaughnessy, 7, 226, 228.

[11] “II: From Lieutenant Colonel James Ross, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “III: To Colonel Theodorick Bland, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “IV: From Major General John Sullivan, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “V: From Colonel Theodorick Bland, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “VII: Lieutenant Colonel Robert Hanson Harrison to John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “From George Washington to John Hancock, 13 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “To George Washington from Brigadier General Anthony Wayne, 19 September 1777,” Founders Online,National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Scheer, and Rankin, 235.

[12] Tacyn, 138-9; Scheer, and Rankin, 236; McGuire, 184-185, 167, 171, 186, 193, 196, 241.

[13] The Winning of Independence, 1777-1783, American Military History (Washington D.C.: Center for Military History, 1989), 72-73; Tacyn, 139; David Ross, The Hessian Jagerkorps in New York and Pennsylvania, 1776-1777, Journal of the American Revolution, May 14, 2015. Accessed August 31, 2016. The British and Hessians advanced with minimal casualties.

[14] “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 109-110; Muster Rolls and Other Records of Service of Maryland Troops in the American Revolution Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 18, 189, 310, 344, 345, 363, 379, 388, 519. William Beatty would become a captain in April 1778 in the Seventh Maryland Regiment, then in the First Maryland Regiment in early 1781.

[15] Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 49. Courtesy of Fold3.com.

[16] Pension of Jacob Armstrong, Revolutionary War Pensions, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, pension number S.22090, roll 0075. Courtesy of Fold3.com; “VII: Lieutenant Colonel Robert Hanson Harrison to John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016. Jacob served as a substitute for his father, Simon Armstrong.

[17] The Annual Register, 128-129.

[18] Ferling, 176.

[19] Weintraub, 118; “VIII: To John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 53-53a; “VIII: To John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016. This letter was published by order of Congress.

[20] Tacyn, 140; The Annual Register, 129-130; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 53-53a; “VIII: To John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 287. Courtesy of Fold3.com; “To George Washington from Brigadier General William Woodford, 2 October 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Journal and Correspondence of the Council of Maryland, 1781-1784 Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 48, 458; Scheer, and Rankin, 240.

[21] Ferling, 177; O’Shaughnessy, 109; Washington thrown back at Brandywine, Chronicle of America, 163; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 53-53a; “VIII: To John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Petitions Address to Congress, 1775-189, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_419789_0001, item number 42, p. 159. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Pension of Jacob Ritter (prisoner after battle), Revolutionary War Pensions, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, pension number S.9080, roll 2052. Courtesy of Fold3.com; John Dwight Kilbourne, A Short History of the Maryland Line in the Continental Army (Baltimore: Society of Cincinnati of Maryland, 1992), 14; Howard H. Peckham, The War for Independence: A Military History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979), 68-70; Scheer, and Rankin, 239. Washington’s letter was later published by order of Congress.

[22] “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 110.

[23] O’Shaughnessy, 109; The Annual Register, 129-130; “To George Washington from Major John Clark, Jr., 12 November 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Peckham, 70; Scheer, and Rankin, 239.

[24] “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 110; Peckham, 70; McGuire, 209. Claims by Continentals that there were many British casualties may have been explained by British tactics.

[25] “A Further Extract from the Examination of Joseph Galloway, Esq; by a Committee of the British House of Commons”; “The Examination of Joseph Galloway, Esq; before the House of Commons”; Weintraub, 115; Tacyn, 143; Trevelyan, 249, 275; O’Shaughnessy, 110.

[26] John Adams diary 28, 6 February – 21 November 1777 [electronic edition], entries for September 16, Adams Family Papers: An Electronic Archive. Massachusetts Historical Society

[27] “A Further Extract from the Examination of Joseph Galloway, Esq; by a Committee of the British House of Commons” ; “General Orders, 19 October 1777,” Founders Online,National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “General Orders, 25 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “General Orders, 3 January 1778,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016.

[28] Tacyn, 142; Letters from General Officers, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_4345518_0001, item number 100, p. 69. Courtesy of Fold3.com.

[29] Tacyn, 141.

[30] Tacyn, 140-141.

[31] Tacyn, 143.

[32] “General Orders, 19 October 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016.

[33] Pension of Jacob Armstrong; Weintraub, 116-117; O’Shaughnessy, 109; “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 110; Kilbourne, 14.

[34] Pension of Jacob Armstrong; The Annual Register, 129-130; Sir George Otto Trevelyan, The American Revolution: Saratoga and Brandywine, Valley Forge, England and France at War, Vol. 4 (London: Longmans Greens Co., 1920), 275; O’Shaughnessy, 110; Ross, “The Hessian Jagerkorps in New York and Pennsylvania, 1776-1777,” Journal of the American Revolution, May 14, 2015. Accessed August 31, 2016; “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 110-111; Kilbourne, 17, 19. As Beatty recounts, Marylanders were joined by the Maryland militia and were still part of General Sullivan’s division.

[35] Trevelyan, 249; O’Shaughnessy, 111; Christopher Hibbert, George III: A Personal History (New York: Basic Books, 1998), 154-155.

[36] “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 110; Kilbourne, 14.

[37] Journal and Correspondence of the Council of Maryland, April 1, 1778 through October 26, 1779 Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 21, 118; Kilbourne, 21-22, 24-27, 29-30, 31, 33.

[38] Adam Smith, Chapter VII: Of Colonies, Part Third: Of the advantages which Europe has derived from the Discovery of America, and from that of a passage to the East Indies by the Cape of Good Hope, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations (ed. Edward Canman, New York: The Modern Library, reprint 1937, originally printed in 1776), 587- 588.

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