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The young king ran across the lawn, laughing as the wind rippled his hair. Aramis smiled softly. It was good to see the boy enjoying himself. He didn’t seem to do that enough, constricted by the life of royalty as he was. His keepers watched with care, trying to make sure he didn’t get so much as a scratch, but clearly enjoying watching him have fun too.
Aramis stood to the side of the garden, always sensing for anything that felt off. The child darted across the lawn, laughing back at his keepers with an unusual spark of rebellion as he ran farther than he should, giving Aramis a mischievous grin while hurtling his direction. Aramis felt his heart constrict and his eyes sting. This was his child. He could barely show it, but he the love he felt overflowed. What he wouldn’t give to be able to run alongside Louis. My son.
A cry pierced the air and the world stalled to slow motion as Louis caught his foot on something unseen and tumbled across the ground, landing behind a hedge. Aramis immediately ran toward him, his breath catching as the crying grew louder. He hadn’t heard the child cry like that in years. He leapt over the hedge and knelt down by the crumpled up Louis. He scooped his son up in his arms, murmuring gently while assessing the wounds. A few small scratches, surely some bruises, but he seemed more shocked than anything. The cries quieted as Aramis sang softly. Still, he should be checked over thoroughly. Aramis would see to that.
The musketeer stood, holding the child to his chest as the nursemaids ran up, one of them offering her arms to take their charge. He shook his head. “I’ve got him.” He’s my son. Aramis began walking toward the castle. I’ll take care of him.