All I Am Belongs to You | All for the Love of a Dear Little Girl
Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy.
Aramis and Athos return to Paris to find they had not left Amélia as alone as they thought
Each ship is a separate timeline with the same s/i
Aramis x Amélia | Athos x Amélia
Athos's story focuses more on what Amélia went through right after season 2, her experience with Aramis is similar but without the correspondences.
These were supposed to be short, but Athos's kind of got away from me... really got away from me
All for the Love of a Girl by Johnny Horton (Aramis) | Wanderer's Lullaby by Adriana Figueroa (Athos) | Banner by @cafekitsune | Dividers by @steddiecameraroll-graphics | Picrew
Aramis
Aramis thinks of Amélia often at the monastery, praying for her health, her happiness, and that she finally find a man who might actually deserve her.
He never expected to see her again, let alone see her hanging laundry in the courtyard of the garrison as soon as he came back to Paris.
She seems just as surprised to see them, quickly setting aside the sheet in her hands and hurrying over to them.
Athos gladly accepts her hug and kiss on his cheek, holding her back for a moment and kissing he temple, "It's good to see you."
"Do I get as warm a welcome?" Porthos teases, arms open and awaiting his own embrace. And he does, squeezing her back and lifting her off the ground when she hugs him.
"Where is D'Artagnan?" She asks. Athos points behind her toward his and Constance's shared quarters and she nods, "So that's where she ran off to."
"And what of me?" Aramis says, anxiously twisting the rim of his hat in his hands, finally bringing her attention to him.
Porthos watches her smile falter at the sound of his voice and both he and Athos narrowly avoid being hit when she spins around to slap him.
"You're lucky you get that much after what you did to me!" She spits at him and he refuses to meet her eyes. He deserves this. He broke her heart again and again, he knows he'll never be able to regain her trust.
He bows to her, knowing now isn't the time, and walks away, only to be stopped by a small girl, no older that three, at his feet.
"Hello, darling," His smile soft yet confused, "What are you doing here?"
She doesn't say anything, squinting up at him as though studying his face.
"Marina!" Amélia swoops in to pick her up and settle her on her hip, "You're supposed to be inside napping, where I left you."
"'M not sweepy," She huffs.
"You were twenty minutes ago."
"Is he my papa?"
He freezes when she points at him.
Amélia squeezes her eyes shut, sighing in defeat before shaking her head.
"Yes, dear one," Aramis's eyes go wide at her casual admittance, "This is Aramis, your father."
"Aramis, this is- Aramis?"
His whole body is rigid, his mind not processing the information given to him.
He looks at the girl, studying her in a similar fashion to how she had him. Soft brown hair, big dark eyes...
"How... old is she?" He asks.
"Dis many!" She proudly announces, holding out three fingers.
"Are you?" He doesn't notice how Amelia's face softens when tears begin to rim his eyes, "Yes, you would be, wouldn't you? May I?"
Amélia nods, letting him take her from her arms.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" He asks, holding her with practiced ease.
"Mawina."
"Marina?" He smiles when she nods, "Now that's a beautiful name, isn't it?"
Amélia scoffs at how suddenly her resolve to hate him crumbles seeing him hold their daughter.
"Oh, you're precious," He sniffs, cupping her little cheek.
Four years of seeing his face in hers displaces her anger, diminishes her hurt. She finds her chest flooding old love for him.
He laughs when she puts her tiny hands on the sides of his face, pushing his cheeks and gently touching his hair, "Curious thing, aren't you?"
"Bold is more like it," Amélia scoffs, "Like her father."
"You never seemed to mind," He grins at her, his attention going back to Marina she turns his chin back toward her, "Amélia, she's beautiful."
"To think I left so close to knowing you," He mutters, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.
Damn it. Damn her and her stupid weak heart because that's all it takes.
"Aramis."
He looks back at her, only to be surprised by her lips pressing against his.
He looks at her in awe when the kiss breaks. He strokes her cheek, unable to tear his eyes away, "I thought..."
"You're infuriatingly difficult to hate," She sighs and he can't stop himself from smiling.
"Am I?"
"I have no idea what she's talking about," Porthos mutters and Athos chuckles. He claps Aramis on the back, "You fell in love with a Saint, you lucky bastard."
"And I truly don't deserve her," He murmurs, "Ah- careful dear."
He carefully untangles Marina fingers from his hair, kissing them softly.
She keeps staring at him, completely enthralled with him.
"So much like you're mother, aren't you," He teases, then in a hushed tone, "She likes to look at me too- Hey!"
He jumps back when she slaps his chest, catching her hand and pulling her close.
"How did I ever let you go?"0
Athos
Amélia realized not long after Athos and the others were sent to the front line to defend France, that she was with child.
She knew, even then, it was Athos's, that fate had tied them together forever through their drunken dalliance. She knew she loved him then, even if her heart wasn't ready to admit it so soon after the pain she had gone through with Aramis.
She planned to tell him everything as soon as the baby was born. She couldn't live with herself if she had lost the baby after declaring such a thing to him through a simple letter.
But then the thought he may not even wish to have a child with her crossed her mind. She'd always thought she understood his unspoken feelings for her, but he truly never told her he loved her, not once in the many letters they'd exchanged.
She couldn't bear to put the thought of an unwanted child on his mind when he had much larger things to concentrate on.
Constance insisted she move to the garrison with her to help and keep each other safe, so she made her home there with her daughter, trying desperately to summon the courage to tell him.
It's nearly three years later that she is finally able to when she receives a letter from the front. Athos worries a lack of supplies to his regiment will make the coming battles impossible. He fears for his life, but he simply can not die without telling her once and for all that he loves her. He goes on to say that if she doesn't return his feelings to not tell him, for he would rather die imagining she accepts his love than with a broken heart.
That letter is precious to her and she keeps it close to her heart her every waking moment, even after she replies, fervently returning his affections, assuring him he'll see her again, and that he will meet his daughter.
Unfortunately, her message never makes it to the front.
So when he returns to the garrison months later, he's surprised when she throws herself in his arms.
She's shaking out a blanket over the rail of the upper floor, sighing when she feels little hands grab the back of her skirt.
"How many times do I have to tell you," She sets the blanket on the rail and bends down to poke her stomach, "No muddy boots on the bed!"
The little girl shrieks with laughter and squirms away.
"Go get your boots and wipe as much of that mud off as you can, yeah?"
"Okay mama!"
She smiles as she runs off and stands to gather the blanket again, but then she sees him, "... Athos?"
He, Pothos, and Aramis have just ridden into the courtyard and her feet move before she even knows what she's doing.
He's barely dismounted when he sees her stumble down the last few stairs, lifting her skirts past her knees as she runs to them, "Athos!"
She nearly knocks him over barreling into him, her arms wrapping around his neck. He does his best to return the hug, his surprise obvious to his companions.
"I missed you," His eyes go wide when she kisses him, her hands holding his face, "I was so worried when you didn't write back."
"I..." He's worried for a brief moment that he died. She didn't reply, but here she is, looking at him adoringly, this must be the final images of his dying mind. "What do you mean? You never..."
His eyes flutter shut when she brushes his bangs asides and presses her forehead to his, her voice a whisper, "But I did! Did you.... did you not get my letter?"
"Your letter?" He shudders, cupping her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek, "You wrote back? You..."
"I love you, Athos," She grins at him, "Of course, I love you."
"I love you," He murmurs as though he can't believe he's finally saying it. He pulls her back against his lips, kissing her adoringly, "For so long I-"
"Mama?"
His eyebrows furrow and the three men look over at the small voice coming from the foot of the stairs.
"And who is this?" Aramis asks, he takes off his hat as he kneel down to her level.
She hesitates, looking to Amélia when he motions her over.
"It's alright," She holds out her hand and she runs to her side, hiding behind her skirts, "This is Aramis, Porthos, and Athos."
She steps into view, no more than three, sleeves of the dark brown leather coat, big on her still, rolled up to her elbows, as she timidly waves at them.
"This is Celine, my daughter, " She looks to Athos, disbelief staining his features, "Our daughter."
He steps back, shock washing over him like ice water, "O-our...?"
She watches him turn and run a hand through his hair, her eyes going wide when he collapses.
"Athos?!" She rushes to his side and rolls him onto his back, wiping mud from his cheek as she settles his head on her lap, "Athos?"
He finds himself suddenly looking up her, not entirely sure how he'd gotten in her lap.
"Mine?" He croaks after a moment and she sighs in relief.
"There's no question," He looks over when Aramis speaks. He's holding the girl with a smile, "She looks just like you."
"Poor girl," Porthos snickers and Athos glares at him as he gets up, Amélia on his arm.
"May I?" He looks to Amélia for permission when he reaches to take her from Aramis.
"She is yours," She reminds him watching him gently hold her to his chest.
"Mine, yes," He parrots as though he doesn't quite believe it, smiling down at her, "Hello."
"Mama?" She looks to Amélia, unsure, then back to him.
He laughs breathlessly seeing her face up close, "She has my eyes. She's beautiful..."
"M-mama!" She cries, not really understanding who any of these men are.
"It's alright," He tries to soothe her, but she squirms in his arms, reaching for her mother until she takes her.
"She doesn't know you yet," She says apologetically, settling her in her arms, and petting her hair, "But she will. She just needs a little time... I mean, as long as you wish to-"
"You're joking?" Athos grins, cupping her cheek, "It would take an act of God to tear me away from her now."
"From both of you," He corrects, his hand holds the back of her head as he leans in to kiss her temple.
Celine continues to fuss, having exhausted herself running around with Constance all morning, 'protecting' her favorite aunt.
"Alright, little musketeer, you need a nap," Amélia chuckles, nuzzling her cheek before leaning over to peck Athos's lips, "I'll be right back."
His face falls as he watches them walk away.
"You alright?" Porthos asks. He and Aramis laugh when he sighs, both of them patting on the back, "You look like you need a drink."
The fire burns low in the hearth, just warm enough to stave off the cool night air.
Athos leans over her, his kiss is slow and heavy against her lips, with Celine alseep just in the next room and wary if the man in her mother's bed, they'd dare not be more intimate than this.
He sighs contentedly, forehead pressed against hers.
She smiles as she kisses him again, reaching up to cup his cheek.
They stay like that a while more, soft touches and lingering kisses leaving them lightheaded.
His fingers trace the features of her face as he lays beside her, still in awe of all of it.
"You never told me," He breathes, his tone more curious than accusatory.
"I was scared," She admits and his brow furrows, "We were drunk, Athos, then you left and I no idea if you still wanted me let a lone a child."
She turns to face him, her hand on his chest, "I wanted to tell you, I did. I tried, many times, but I never had the courage. Not until you sent me this."
She lays back for a moment, reaching to pull a letter from a small box on the bedside table. She holds it to her lips for a moment, a routine motion to her now when she needs strength.
"This. Knowing you love me, for certain, gave me the strength and courage I needed to tell you," She holds it to her chest, "I've carried your love with me every moment since I received it. Keeping you near my heart."
"If only I had your words to guard mine," He laments, kissing her hand roughly.
"You have them now."
His breath shudders, pushing forward to nestle his face in the crook of her neck. Her hand strokes his hair before catching in it, holding him there.
"My heart is yours, Athos."
He wakes the next morning with his head on her chest, her fingers still caught in his unruly hair.
He's worried for a moment that he's still dreaming, but as he slowly moves to pull away, she shifts in her sleep, tugging his hair harshly, making him chuckle.
He quickly dresses himself, leaning down to kiss her forehead, before quietly walking through the next room to find the door left ajar.
Panic washes over him when he looks over to the cot in the corner only to find it empty.
He hurriedly opens the door, sighing in relief when he sees her sitting on the top step.
"You're not supposed to be out here," He says gently.
She scoots closer to the right hand rail when he moves to sit beside her, staring wistfully over at the horses.
"Do you like the horses?" He asks, leaning forward to see her face.
She nods but doesn't meet his gaze.
"Would you like a closer look?"
"Mama said I can't wit'out her cause 'm too small."
"I could go with you, if you like?"
That catches her attention and she looks over at him with bright eyes, "Really?"
He smiles softly at her, offering her his hand.
He still can't believe she's real, even with her hand, so small in his, holds tight to two of his fingers as he helps her down the stairs.
Just a few days ago he had nothing besides his friends and position as captain, fighting a seemingly endless war in the name of France. But now... the woman he has adored for years has returned his affections emphatically, and she's given him the most precious little girl. His heart could not be more full than it is at this moment.
"It's alright," He assures her when she hesitates. He lifts her easily and brushes her hair from her eyes, "I've got you."
Amélia wakes alone, her lover's heat lingering in the sheets beside her.
"Athos?" She calls, but she's met with silence, "Celine?"
Silence still and she wonders if she's still asleep. She rises to her feet and pulls on a linen robe, wrapping it around her to ward off the morning chill.
The other room is empty, neither Athos nor their daughter is anywhere to be found and she worries for a moment before looking out the window. She steps outside and leans on the rail, her shoulders relaxing as she watches him let her pet the horses.
Aramis comes out to greet the morning not long after, smiling at the sight of his friend taking to the role of father like a duck to water. Then he sees Amélia watching over them and carefully climbs the stairs to join her.
"They seem to be getting along well," He comments, his voice quiet as he leans on his arms next to her.
"I was worried," She admits.
"Athos has always been an honorable man, he would never reject either of you," He insist and she shakes her head.
"It's not just that," She sighs, "Or that he would be angry I lied to him... Celine doesn't take to new people well. I was scared he would be hurt if she rejected him, even if it was due to shyness."
"It seems you were worried for nothing."
She beams when they hear Celine giggle.
"I must apologize to you."
"It's in the past Aramis-"
"Please?" He begs, "I must say my piece."
She nods and looks to him with warm eyes. He'd expected her to be mad, to curse and spit his name as soon as she saw him, and he's grateful for her patience.
"I hurt you, Amélia, in ways no one should ever be hurt and I am genuinely sorry for that. I spent every day of the last four years praying for your forgiveness knowing there's I could ever do to earn it."
"Aramis..."
"I prayed for your happiness and prayed that you may find someone who truly deserves your love," He places his hand on her back, looking back over at the two by the stables, "I couldn't think of a man more deserving than Athos."
"Thank you, Aramis, that means a great deal to me."
He bows his head and they watch for a minute more until Celine sees them and points, "Mama!"
"There's just one thing I don't understand," Aramis says as they cross the courtyard and she looks up at him expectantly, "Where does the black hair come from."
"My mother," She says walking over to the top of the stairs to meet them, "I'm the only one of my siblings to take after my father."
"Hello dear one," She coos, taking Celine in her arms when she reaches for her, "Did Papa bring you to see the horses?"
Papa.
She doesn't even realize she's said it until she feels his hand brush against her arm and she looks over at him, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," He sweeps Celine's long hair aside to see her face again before Amélia turns to go inside.
"Let's get you dressed and fed, shall we?"
He watches them longingly as they disappear into their apartments and Aramis chuckles.
"I have never seen a man so smitten, my friend," He teases.
"I still can't believe they're real."
"You two are up early," Constance calls from below and they turn to see her, "You mind giving me a hand?"
"She's quite the wild thing, your little one," She comments as they help her hitch the horses to the wagon.
"Is she?"
"Oh yes," She nods, "It won't be long before she's giving these cadets a run for their money."
"She's fierce then?" Aramis asks, "Like her mother."
"And then some. Especially with how Treville encourages her," She leans back against the wagon, "That coat she never takes off? Treville had it made special and gave her a matching wooden sword a week later. That man spoils her like she's his granddaughter."
"I wana go wit Con'tence!" Speaking of whom, Celine comes stumbling down the stairs, toy sword in her hand.
"Not without breakfast you aren't!" Amélia scolds half a flight behind.
Athos doesn't hesitate to scoop her up, more than happy to hold her again while her mother catches up.
"Not this time, darling," Constance tells her, pinching her cheek.
"But Con'tance!"
"No buts! Mum's orders."
Amélia rests her forehead on his shoulder, breathless from chasing their daughter.
He can see the gears turning in Celine's head before she wiggles and twists her body just right to slip out of his hold, but he's quick to catch her again, "Where do you think you're going?"
She huffs in defiance, continuing to struggle, and he shakes his head, "So much like your mother."
"Excuse me?"
Constance laughs at the scene, wondering how it's possible he only met her yesterday.
Celine accidentally elbows him in the jaw in her attempt to escape and Amélia's eyes go wide, reaching to take her, "Here, let me. She'll settle once she eats."
"It's fine," He insists, content to hold her for the rest of time if she asked him, "Lead the way."