I Have You
by Michelle
Note: Some dialogue was taken from the s03 e08 'Prisoners of War' of the TV series The Musketeers,
written by James Payne.
Chapter 1
Her body started shaking against her will, fear overcoming courage, facing something she had never experienced before. Always able to defend herself in the face of possible harm, standing bound and helpless, awaiting physical attack was something inconceivable to her. Yet, she still tried to keep a straight face, no matter what would come; she was innocent, guilty of nothing shameful, only being a victim of those for whom the desire for power over everything and everyone was greater than life itself.
She braced herself, resolved not to make a sound, but as soon as the first lash of the whip cut through her bare flesh, Sylvie couldn’t suppress a shocked cry. With every next lash, her short sobs became more muted, the world around her turning into a haze of muffled sounds - the shouts of the many bystanders watching her torture, blinded by the false sense of righteousness, blended into the background of her mind. She couldn’t see the figure of a man in black, desperate and outraged, hurriedly dismounting his horse and fighting his way through the crowd and members of the Red Guard.
“Stop him!” the angry shout of Captain Marcheaux vaguely reached her half-consciousness as she couldn’t stop shaking. She didn’t dare to hope, yet her mind couldn’t help it. Her body was on fire, the open, raw flesh wounds feeling like nothing she had ever known.
“To defy the law of the King is treason,” she heard Marcheaux’s threatening voice again.
“To Hell with the law!!!”
Sylvie’s racing heart skipped a beat; she closed her eyes, releasing a quiet sob, grasping for the lifeline she had just been given. That voice, albeit a scream of rage and despair that tore like thunder through the shouting mob, was one she would have recognised anywhere and anytime…
Suddenly completely aware of her surroundings again, she clung on to hope, the last resort of the hurt and desperate.
“Put it down,” she heard d’Artagnan nearby, obviously referring to the whip. “Put it down!”
And then she finally saw by her side the face she was begging to appear – Athos was freeing her right hand by unlocking the handcuff.
“Put… it… down,” Porthos’s deep voice demanded as well.
“Animals!” Athos shouted, casting a look at the crowd, his eyes blazing fire. “You should hang your heads in shame!” he shouted again while setting Sylvie’s other hand free.
After a heavy and angry glare at d’Artagnan, Captain Marcheaux understood there was nothing more he could do, given the situation, and walked away.
Sylvie’s hands were finally free, her knees gave in and her body would have fallen on the floor if Athos hadn’t caught her under her arm. They were both in an uncomfortable position, he half-kneeling, Sylvie half-sitting. The lashes robbed her of any strength and Athos didn’t dare to move before she did. He couldn’t properly embrace her because of her back injuries, not wanting to cause her more physical pain. But he would have endured anything for her, discomfort, danger, even death…
“I have you,” he whispered, leaning his cheek against her head and gently stroking her hair, still holding her securely under her arm. “I have you…”
Upon hearing those words, spoken with such tenderness that brought tears to her eyes, Sylvie was snapped from the first shock into reality, for she heard so much more in them.
I have you… You’re safe… You are a part of me now and I will not leave you again…
Her face scrunched as her mental resolve finally broke down and she started sobbing, her hand desperately trying to get a hold of Athos’s arm.
Tenderness mingled with anger in him again, as Athos felt his eyes burning. He wouldn’t cry, though, not when the woman he loved needed his strength. And when injustice still needed to be punished.
“Porthos, I need a cloak or a sheet for Sylvie, and my horse,” he said to his friend who nodded and immediately left his side. Athos lowered his head back to Sylvie.
“I know this will hurt but I need to get you to the garrison,” he whispered in her ear again. Her sobs subsided meanwhile, and she just nodded, her complete trust in him never wavering.
As carefully as he could, he helped her to stand up and slowly walk down the stairs. He knew putting Sylvie on a horse would cause her great pain but she was a strong and brave woman and would bear anything if there was no other way. She was still shaking but determination was written all over her face. Despite the ache in his heart, Athos had to marvel at her courage more than ever.
“Ready?” he asked her in a mere whisper.
Sylvie turned her head to look at him, seeing the worry and love in his eyes. She swallowed hard but nodded, fighting back more tears. After her ordeal, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore save one thing – if there was one safe place on earth for her, it was in the arms of the man who had just rescued her. And that was worth every bit of pain she had to endure.
※※※
“It’s my fault, Athos,” Constance remarked, her voice close to crying.
He looked up at her, reaching for her hand.
“It was Grimaud, not you,” he said reassuringly.
“Athos…” a strained, shaky voice made him turn his attention back to the bed that he was sitting on.
He carefully leaned over Sylvie’s bare, whiplashed back, lowering his head so she could see him sideways.
“I’m here,” he whispered, his fingers gently stroking her arm. “I’ll always be here.”
As before, she didn’t need to hear anything more. His feather-light touch and reassurance of his presence made her sigh with relief, and she slightly nodded. The aftermath of her shock was strong, her mind only half-present. Everything around her felt like grey fog in which she was groping and finding nothing. But hearing the whisper of the one voice that meant everything to her breaking through that thick veil lessened her anxiety and shed some light onto the darkness she had been walking through.
“Where does it end?” Constance asked, on the verge of tears, when she rejoined d’Artagnan and Porthos, standing at the door. “When they come for the ones you love?”
Neither of the men answered, but their faces were painted with pain as they watched the quietly suffering Sylvie being tenderly cared for by their dear friend. Wordless, all three of them left the Captain’s room, leaving Athos with Sylvie alone.
Athos was focusing on using his gentlest touch while carefully washing the long, ugly wounds on Sylvie’s back. He could hear her breath hitch now and then, seeing her body involuntarily shiver at times, her every nerve still stretched to the limit. She was exhausted, but her eyes were opened as if she was afraid to drift off into an eternal sleep, or worse – that he would leave her despite his promise not to…
It took Athos every bit of his mental strength to keep his emotions locked inside. The sight of Sylvie’s skin marked by the inhuman cruelty of those in power was tearing him apart as if he himself was branded by the lashes. This woman, despite being an excellent swordfighter and a vocal defender of equality and a decent and dignified life for everyone, always strived for peaceful and non-violent resolutions of conflicts if possible. Still, she became the victim of atrocious violence herself, and he couldn’t have prevented it. Or could he have? Perhaps by not having pushed her away, he could have protected her more. Perhaps Aramis was right, and if he had put aside his fear of being distracted from his mission and tried harder to find a balance between his life and work, everything could have been different. Perhaps not, but perhaps…
Where one thought ended, another appeared, and the frown on his face deepened even more – Grimaud… Athos had seen his face way too many times, even in his worst nightmares. His blood started boiling again, the taste of bile making him wince.
He’ll pay for this… He’ll pay for every evil deed he had ever done…
He briefly squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled deeply, chasing away the gnawing feelings of guilt and rage. Nothing could have changed what had happened. All he could do was deal with the consequences and do everything in his power so that it never happened again.
Finishing the washing, he put the washcloth back into the bowl and carefully covered Sylvie’s back with a large square of clean cloth that Constance had left him to prevent the wounds from getting infected. Then he slowly went down on one knee by the bed so that Sylvie could see his face better.
Her frightened eyes locked with his, and he saw that the light which had usually sparkled in those dark, deep pools and which he so loved was gone, covered by a veil of anguish and sorrow. However, he also saw a flicker of relief and gratitude, but above all, love.
Athos swallowed a tear and attempted a small smile. His hand went slowly into her hair, his tender caresses trying to soothe her pain. Neither of them had spoken, yet there were whole worlds of words filling the small space between them. One soul spoke to another, not needing anything else but the eyes, the windows to its very core.
After what seemed like an eternity, Sylvie’s lips finally stretched into a small smile, while her tired gaze still bore into his, and a soft sigh escaped her throat. She unhurriedly and shakily reached for his free hand, resting on the side of the bed. Athos accepted her hand immediately, pressing a soft kiss on its knuckles.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t be afraid… You’re safe,” he whispered, stroking her hair one more time before withdrawing his hand. Only then, Sylvie seemed to have calmed down at last, as she nodded slightly, and her eyes closed as fatigue finally overcame her.
Athos raised himself and walked out of the room.
As he quietly pushed the door closed behind him, he remained standing at it for a few more moments, staring at the handle as he was trying to compose himself. The onslaught of various emotions coming over him in waves throughout the last few hours threatened to overwhelm him. His jaw tightened, as he turned and started walking, attempting to fetch some wine for Sylvie to warm her up and settle her nerves. But he managed to take only a few steps when his breathing suddenly got shallow, his legs betrayed him and he had to hold himself up against the nearby wall. Then helplessly, his body slid down the wall as he ended up sitting on the ground, holding his head in his hands. And then, the floodgates opened…
Why does it hurt so much? Why do I feel like my chest is crushed by a boulder? Why can’t I just brace myself and keep going for her, for both of us?
Questions burdened his troubled mind to no end, only to be followed by simple answers.
Because it’s real… Because you love her and she loves you, and whatever happens to either of you, happens to both… Because every time she gets hurt in any way, you feel like you have failed her… And because you want and need her in your life so badly, even though she respected your wish to stay out of it…
His body was shaking from quiet but painful sobs, which he was unable to stop for a while. Only the soft touch of a hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality, as he looked up to meet Constance’s compassionate eyes. He quickly started wiping his tear-stained face, while his friend squatted in front of his sitting form.
“Sylvie will be all right, Athos,” Constance said quietly but with conviction, pushing her own feeling of guilt aside for the first time that day. “She’s a strong woman, and she has someone and something to fight for…”
He lifted his haunted eyes to her and the pain in them was undeniable.
“I failed her, Constance…” Athos said with a broken voice.
“You saved her,” she countered, not allowing him any other argument. “You couldn’t have prevented this even if you were together at that time…” She took his hand in hers, her feeling of guilt resurfacing again although she fought it back. Her voice softened.
“Athos, we cannot change our past, but we can shape our future. Sylvie is your future and you are hers, and I’m sure you both know it… Besides, she could do worse than with the Captain of the King’s Musketeers,” she added with a cheeky smile, raising her eyebrows.
Despite his misery, Athos couldn’t help but snort.
“Some Captain I am, crying on the floor like a cadet after his first training and leaving her alone there,” he remarked dryly, but a small, amused smile appeared on his face. “I just wanted to get her some wine.”
“You are a musketeer, but one with a heart of the size of Paris, and there’s no shame in that,” she remarked knowingly, smiling. “Go back then,” she squeezed his arm. “I’ll fetch the wine. Here, take this clean sheet as well. You’ll have to replace the one you put on her back in a couple of hours.”
She helped him to stand up and nodded, seeing his genuinely grateful smile, then started for the kitchen. Athos walked back to the door, holding the sheet in one hand. He took one more deep breath, wiped away the last traces of his tears and entered his room again.
※※※※※
Chapter 2
The night had long cast its dark wings over the garrison as Athos was still sitting in his chair, watching over the woman sleeping in his bed. She was lying on her side, an improvement from the first day when all she could do was lay on her chest. The Captain couldn't remember how many hours of sleep on a makeshift bed he got since he had brought her to the garrison, his mind too troubled with worry, pain and anger to let him rest properly. The dark rings under his deep blue eyes marked the state of his body and mind, his face still bearing a couple of mild remnants of the injuries he had suffered when being brutally attacked by his Nemesis.
It had been four days since Sylvie was unjustly punished and publically humiliated. Her recovery had been slow but steady, thanks to the loving care of Constance and mainly Athos, who was aware that he had spent more time with the patient than with his musketeers. However, none of them had a single objection. They had all grown fond of Sylvie, who, as Porthos said, had proved herself as a woman of honour, and witnessing her suffering bound them together even more.
Brujon made it his personal duty to make sure the Captain and his companion always had everything they needed throughout the day, be it food or a kind word reassuring them he was at their service at any time. Athos, who had been following the cadet's gradual and promising improvement on his quest to become a musketeer, couldn't help but feel almost paternal warmth toward the young man, as a result of his genuine care and devotion. Brujon could truly be described as a kind-hearted, loyal and decent lad, and his Captain watched his gradual transition from a boy into a man with real interest. He wasn’t as passionate as D’Artagnan, being a much more quiet and subdued type, listening to and following every advice of his mentors without questioning, but there was something about him that reminded Athos of the Gascon musketeer. It was probably his unpretentious intelligence, devotion to his comrades and relentless striving to become the best he could be, both as a soldier and as a man.
Despite the seeming calm before the storm, everyone in the garrison was still vigilant, though, prepared for Grimaud appearing in Paris any day. He was like a black shadow hovering above everyone’s minds, especially Athos’s. Never in his life had he felt such a maddening drive to bring down an adversary, but too much was at stake - for France but also, if not especially, on a personal level. Moreover, he was now almost convinced that fighting this incarnation of evil with the musketeers’ usual code of honour and mercy would not work. His mind became more and more consumed with the thought of destroying their dark enemy and sending him back to the gates of Hell where he had surely come from. Aramis was right - there would be no peace for Athos until he made sure that Lucien Grimaud had taken his last breath on earth.
A quiet movement brought the Captain from his brooding. Sylvie sat up on the bed, woken up from her sleep by another nightmare. The first night, she woke up with a start, crying out Athos’s name and shaking uncontrollably. It brought her back to the flogging, only this time, no one was coming to help her... Athos wished nothing more but to take her in his arms to console her, but all he could do due to her condition was hold her hand and stroke her head while resting his forehead against hers. It worked, though, for his presence and whispering soothing words were like a magical cure, reaching that place deep inside her and making her relax soon after.
Tonight, Sylvie just opened her eyes, feeling a cold shiver run down her spine. Her chest was heaving as she tried to shake off her fear from the dream. She took a deep breath while finding a comfortable sitting position. Frustration was setting in as she desperately wished to regain her equilibrium and yet had been failing to do so. She had very few nightmares in her previous life and none of them repeating, but this one was stubbornly embedded in her brain like a bad tune she couldn’t get rid of. Running her hands over her face, with a heavy sigh, she felt the sweat on her forehead.
“I’m here,” a quiet voice came from across the room, as she had heard it many times in the previous days.
Athos immediately stood up from the chair at his desk and walked over to her, sitting down on another chair by the bed. His hands tenderly wiped the sweat off her temples; then he took her hands, making gentle circles on them with his thumbs.
“The same one?” he asked, searching her eyes in the semi-darkness of the room, expecting the affirmative.
Sylvie nodded and exhaled loudly, finding comfort in the tender and warm touch of his hands. The light of a single candle on the table nearby illuminated his face, making it seem softer, although not disguising its troubled expression.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m trying not to think of it but…”
“You don’t need to apologise,” Athos interrupted her gently. “You’ve been through something unspeakable… It will take time.”
Her dark eyes observed his face for a moment, noticing the clear marks of fatigue on it.
“Do you have any?” she asked then.
He sighed, not suppressing a small smile.
“Sometimes,” he replied. “During the four years we fought against Spain, I had them almost every night. My mind was constantly on the battlefield…”
He paused, seeing in his mind’s eye all the young faces of his lost comrades who had found horrible death in the savage war, which saw no end. The memory of their last battle, which had wiped out almost the entire battalion, made him shudder.
“And now?” Sylvie inquired softly again, wishing he had never had to endure the horrors of war.
Athos looked into her eyes, noticing that her spark of life had finally returned to them.
“Grimaud… Most of the time,” he answered truthfully. “And you…” he added after a long pause.
“Me?” Sylvie breathed, worried.
He attempted a smile, seeing her expression, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared.
“Of losing you… to Grimaud…”
It was obvious that it took great strength for him to keep a straight face. Her pained gaze touched him more than he would have expected. He had to lower his eyes, suddenly unable to bear its intensity.
“I had dreamt of it for the first time when we went to look for Grimaud in Eparcy, before we returned to Paris, before you were…” His voice faded. He looked at her again, asking a silent question.
“Go on,” she encouraged him with a small smile.
“I was suffering from poisoning and had hallucinations even when I was awake… “
A quiet gasp escaped her throat. She had seen him battered to a pulp after Grimaud had almost killed him, and still struggling two days later, but imagining him suffering even worse clamped her heart almost to a painful point.
“It doesn’t matter.” Athos shook his head dismissively. “What matters is that we must stop him. That’s the only way to end this nightmare for everyone before it escalates into a civil war.”
They remained silent for a while, each deep in thought, Athos still holding her hands.
Sylvie pondered about his words. Civil war… Only a few months ago, when her father was still alive, he was more than ready to stand with his fellow men and fight for a better life for everyone against the oppression. Until then, she saw the world mainly through his eyes, heavily influenced by the carelessness of the King toward and injustices done to the lowest class people, including the refugees. But a lot had happened since then that opened her eyes to the other side of the story, not the least thanks to her encounter and gradually growing friendship with the musketeers. She still wanted to change the world. However, after all that she and her friends in both the refugee camp and the garrison had been through, a war out on the very streets of the city where she had met the man she now loved like no one else in the world was the last thing she would have wished.
“Sylvie…” Athos’s quiet voice interrupted her brooding. He was looking into her eyes again, his gaze earnest. “Things will get more complicated out there, more… dangerous. The moment Grimaud and Gaston reach the gates of Paris, no one will be safe anymore.”
He paused, searching for the right words to express what he wanted to say.
“After you heal from… After you get better, I want you to stay here… with me… You would be more protected. I would feel… less worried.”
She could hear how difficult it was for him to voice his worst fear.
“Of course, you could go out, you would be no prisoner here, I just…”
“I know,” she interjected softly, with a small smile, touched by his words. “I’ll stay.”
Athos’s loud sigh of relief echoed in the silence of the night, and his eyes roamed around her face, memorising for the hundredth time every detail of it. Sylvie couldn’t resist cupping his own face with her hands and pressing a gentle but lingering kiss on his lips. It was the first kiss they shared since Athos had walked away from her after Grimaud had tried to kill him and his friends, and the Captain had to fight hard to quench his need for deepening it. Well aware of her still weak state, he was determined to take it slow. He couldn’t control his racing heartbeat, though.
Little did he know that Sylvie had to work hard on her own self-control. The touch of his lips caused a tingling sensation all over her body, right down to her toes. Only a sudden memory of something recent helped her to regain composure.
“Something happened to me the day I was in the printing room after Constance had brought me there,” she said then, with a puzzled look. “A fine, beautiful woman approached me. She looked at me in such a strange way… She knew my name…”
Athos felt like splashed by a bucket of cold water. He squeezed his eyes shut before sighing loudly. His hand slowly dropped from her face as he stood up, walking a few steps to steady his suddenly shaken nerves. Only now, Brujon’s Captain, I’m sorry from four days ago made perfect sense to him.
“Athos?” Sylvie asked, sensing something important was about to be revealed.
This is it… The truth has to out now, all of the truth before everything we have fought for together is lost forever…
The world seemed to have suddenly shrunk into the four walls around them, making it ever more so clear to the Captain that there was no other way out but the way of pure and raw honesty. He knew that the ever-stronger bond between them was about to be tested like never before.
"I said I wanted you to know everything about me," Athos spoke after a moment of silence and dared to glance at her tired but intrigued face. "I guess life has decided now is the appropriate time for you to find out..."
※※※※※
Chapter 3
The question in Sylvie’s big dark eyes and the intensity of her gaze made him look away. Suddenly he didn’t feel strong enough to look at her; however, she sensed his pained anxiety.
“Over ten years ago, when I was twenty-five, I was married,” he started, not seeing the astonishment on Sylvie’s face.
He was standing by the window now, with his hands resting on his hips, looking out into the night that revealed images from his past in his mind’s eye.
“For a long time, she was the most beautiful woman I have ever met… I didn’t know much about her and in my naïve enchantment, I didn’t seem to care. I loved her as only the young and inexperienced can love – with all my heart and passion. I put all my trust and faith in her… I believed her to be a woman of honour and great passion for life. When I was with her I felt… intoxicated… I gave her my all, and believed nothing could destroy our happiness.” He paused, taking a deep breath.
“Not long after our wedding, I found out it was all a lie…”
Words suddenly poured out of him as he briefly related to Sylvie the story of his background and the tragic circumstances of his brother’s death. Her quiet gasp was the only other sound in the room apart from his voice. Realising she was waiting for him to continue, he went on.
“I was blinded by pain and feeling of betrayal. I guess my pride took a blow as well, for I claimed myself to be a good judge of character… She claimed my brother had forced herself upon her and she just defended herself... I was torn between anger and love. There was no evidence testifying about anything else but her guilt. As a landowner, my duty by law was to condemn her…”
He let out a shaky breath, still unable to look away from the window, staring out into the night, his expression stony and lifeless.
“I had never felt such anguish and fear before. She begged me to believe her it was self-defence, but the evidence against her was overwhelming, fortified by her betrayal of hiding her past from me.” He paused.
“What past?” Sylvie asked quietly, using his break.
Without looking at her, Athos replied. “She was a convicted thief.”
No reply came from her as he kept his eyes firmly ahead.
“And so I had to do what the law asked from me. I condemned her to death by hanging…”
Athos’s voice faded away; he squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing his tears of shame and guilt. There was still no response from Sylvie, although he could feel the increased tension in the air, growing with each word. He opened his eyes, gazing into the darkness again.
“For five years, I believed she had found her last day at the end of a rope – until she reappeared in my life again… and haunted me even more than before. The man who was supposed to hang her revived her after I had left… only for her to kill him just before I found out she was alive. I became obsessed with both getting her out of my life, as she kept finding ways how to push herself back into it, and craving for her in an unhealthy way… For the memory of the love we had once shared… All I know is that until I was called to fight against Spain almost two years later, she made life a living hell for me… And yet I could not rid my heart and mind of her. I saw her betray, destroy, even kill. After all, I made her what she had become…”
He paused, his eyes glowing in the warm candlelight. Still, he dared not look at Sylvie.
“After coming to Paris, she was working as Cardinal’s agent. That, along with her initial desire for revenge on me had made us enemies for a long time. But not long before I was called to war, she helped us to bring down Rochefort, the King's main advisor and Captain of the Red Guard, who was incidentally also a Spanish spy. She also saved Aramis from prison when he was sentenced to death. Something in me hoped she had changed, that there was still something good within her, although I had my doubts since she had never done anything unconditionally… She told me she was tired of being who she was and wished to be who she was with me once…”
Athos released the building tension within him with a heavy sigh and leaned against the window frame with one hand, subconsciously looking for physical support.
“She was about to leave for England for good and asked me to go with her. I almost went to meet her where she had suggested, although I wasn’t sure if to leave with her or to say goodbye… But then Treville asked me to gather our men to go to war. I could not abandon my duty, so I was late for the meeting with Anne… She left without me.”
It was the first time Athos mentioned his former wife’s name, and for the first time since he had known her, saying her name out loud didn’t make him feel anything even resembling the emotion that had tortured his heart for so many years before.
A heavy silence befell the room as Sylvie still hadn’t uttered a word. Athos finally moved from his spot at the window and walked over to his desk. Still without looking at her, he sat on the edge of it, his hands grasping at it for support. This time, he pinned his look to the floorboards.
“In the war, I was learning to forget, and after four years, upon my return to Paris, I felt I was almost there. And then…”
For the first time during his narration, a gentle smile reached his eyes, chasing the dark shadow away from his features.
“Then I was sent to investigate in the refugee camp… and I met a woman… fierce, intelligent, brave, compassionate and caring, pure and giving… The like I had never met before.” The smile on his face turned into an incredulous one. “Everything I thought I knew about love until then suddenly appeared… flawed.”
The memories of the precious time he had shared with Sylvie flooded his mind like a rolling tide, lighting up his eyes. He chuckled and shook his head, making a few strands of his hair fall over and partially obscure his face.
“I was such a fool… I kept pulling you to me and pushing you away at the same time, stubbornly refusing to admit to myself that you have already found a way to the place deep inside me that I thought no one would ever reach again.”
Athos knitted his eyebrows as his smile faded. “And there was the constant fear for your safety, especially after Grimaud’s attack on us in the camp. And yet, I couldn’t fight my heart, I didn’t want to… I dreaded the moments when my mind wasn’t occupied with any task because the emptiness inside me caused by your absence was draining the life out of me. I wasn’t prepared for feeling like that, for feeling so… much… I just wasn’t myself anymore, driven only by the pursuit of Grimaud.” Pain clouded his eyes again. “And then we have returned to Paris a few days ago…”
There were still no words or movement coming as a reply, and he was still afraid to look up, worried he might lose the courage to reveal the rest. Although the night outside was cool, the air in the Captain’s quarters suddenly seemed hot and thick, the painful memories mingled with deep anxiety weighing in heavily on the Captain's heart.
While he was still focusing on the uneven floorboards ahead of him, Athos’s throat suddenly went dry when he realised he had arrived at the most difficult part of his narration. His heart started hammering in his chest – after he had spoken the following words, the fate of his relationship with Sylvie would lie solely in her hands. However, he was sure that if he didn’t tell her the whole truth, he wouldn’t honour the honesty they both so valued. His hands started sweating.
“I came here and found Anne waiting for me…”
He sighed heavily, trying to shake off the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him again.
“I cannot explain what happened next… Perhaps it was the shock of seeing her again, perhaps the memory of who we were at the very beginning washed over me, blinding my senses and reason, but before I knew it, we were kissing…”
Silence; nothing but deafening silence, hurting Athos’s ears like a blow from a canon by now. However, he forced himself to continue, betting everything on the last imaginary card remaining in his hand. Sylvie needed to know the whole truth to understand what she truly meant to him.
“Only a mere moment into it, I had to pull back… It felt utterly wrong and… cold. I couldn’t even look into her eyes for all I could see in my head was you… At that moment, I understood that whatever had bound us in the past was burned to ashes and gone forever. After all these years, I was finally free of her…”
More silence, tempting him to fight his fear of rejection and look at Sylvie, but he couldn’t, not yet.
“I told her it was not what I wanted and the truth finally dawned on her. Out of the blue, she mentioned your name…It was Anne who you saw in the printing room.”
The suspense was killing him now. His eyes were burning as he finally gathered the courage to look up to see Sylvie’s reaction, but it was not to be – her head was bowed deep down, her long, loose curls creating a veil covering most of her face. All Athos could see clearly was her chest heaving. Suddenly determined to bring the point of his whole story across, he kept his eyes on her as he proceeded.
“The realisation she knew about you made something in me snap. I am being honest by saying that I had never felt such a terror that gripped me at that moment… I know what she’s capable of; she kills people who stand in her way… The thought of her hurting you in any way almost drove me mad.”
Athos’s voice was strained but coloured with anger.
“I have never laid my hands on a woman in an aggressive way unless in defence, but when she suggested she might have harmed you, mocking me if I cared whether you were alive or not, my hands went around her neck without thinking… I am not proud of it, but I swear to God that for a moment, I was ready to kill her… I didn’t, but I knew then as I know now, I never wanted to see her face ever again.”
He paused before delivering the final words that had been sitting on his chest for what seemed like an eternity.
“The face I want to see for the rest of my life is yours.”
As his voice faded into the space between them, Athos exhaled loudly, ignoring the wetness on his stubbly cheeks. It was the longest stream of thoughts he had ever said out loud, the most he had ever revealed from his past life and his thoughts and feelings to anyone. It had been difficult but also liberating as he could feel the negative, dark memories filled with pain, guilt and sorrow wash away, making way for something better and more beautiful hopefully to come. All he could do was wait and beg Heavens that she would understand. He wasn’t asking for compassion or absolution. All he wished for was to be honest with her, just as she had always been honest with him, and hope that perhaps her grace and love would be strong enough not to close her door to him forever.
At last, Sylvie’s head slowly went up, understanding that he had finished speaking. Her dark eyes glistened with tears as she locked them with his haunted blue pools. A myriad of emotions played across her features, and Athos found it difficult to decipher which one prevailed. And yet he was grasping at straws, anything that would give him hope, something he had thought he'd lost but found again when their paths crossed.
“Sylvie…,” he heard himself beg in a whisper before another tear escaped his eye, asking the unspoken question.
And then she finally stood up from the bed and slowly but assuredly closed the distance between them. Her hands found their way to his face, gently cupping it, her thumbs wiping away the dampness on his cheeks, ignoring her own. She searched his eyes for a moment and saw the same longing, despair and love in them as when Athos had returned to her for the first time after their brief separation. Moreover, there was the honesty she so valued as well. He was an open book for real this time, completely and voluntarily at her mercy, surrendering his everything to her.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’ll always be here…”
※※※※※
Chapter 4
Athos had seen many sunrises in his life, watching the veil of the night’s darkness lift and give way to a new, bright day. And yet, he had never felt such power of a new beginning, filled with such warmth as at that very moment, hearing Sylvie’s quiet but meaningful words.
His arm went around her neck, pulling her to him with an urge but also still mindful of her slowly healing injuries. His other hand held her hand over his heart as he breathed in the familiar scent of her skin. Suddenly he felt speechless; it seemed he had spent all vocabulary in his narration. After the initial relief, his brain finally caught up with his emotions.
“Can this really be true?” Athos whispered eventually, still hesitating to believe he hadn’t lost her to the harsh reality of his past life and its consequences.
“Yes,” Sylvie replied softly, pulling back a little to look at him, with a serious expression on her face. “Under one condition, though.”
“Anything…” He didn’t even blink.
She stroked his cheek before speaking, focusing on his eyes.
“You will forgive yourself.”
Athos sighed and closed his eyes.
“I understand it will not be easy because you have lived with the feeling of guilt for too long, but you must do it… You say you made Anne what she is today. I don’t agree.”
That piqued his interest, and he opened his eyes to her again.
“Athos, we all have a choice in whatever we do. Circumstances may influence our actions but no one can force us to do what we don’t want to do. Your wife chose the path of violence and revenge, paying the price for not being honest with you at the very beginning, caused by her fear. If she had trusted you, she would have never concealed the truth from you, and maybe things could have been different… But she hadn’t, and you have to accept her choice and move on in your own life. And you can only do that by forgiving yourself for condemning her.”
”I have to live with it for the rest of my life,” he stated quietly, although the truth of her words reached him.
”I know, but you can’t punish yourself for it forever.”
Everything Athos told her made sense in the context of their relationship. His initial unwillingness to get to know each other better as people was a simple avoidance of having to tell her about his past due to the fear of facing her possible rejection and condemnation. The courage he had gathered to reveal the truth to her in the end told her more about his character than she had learned until then - and she loved him even more for that. It’s not easy for decent people to carry dark secrets, but it’s even more difficult to talk about them.
Sylvie knew from their first encounter that there was a real depth to Athos, something hidden in his eyes speaking of a pain locked away from the world, despite the fleeting moments of joy and playfulness he had displayed during their happy days together. Yet she also knew he was a decent, brave and honest man with a strong sense of justice and empathy. Now that she knew the reason behind the sadness, his strength of carrying himself throughout life impressed her even more. He had left his life of a nobleman mainly to forget and learn to live again by doing something meaningful. She decided this would be his last day of suffering for his past; above everything else, he deserved a life lived in peace with himself.
Athos’s eyes observed her for a quiet moment, contemplating how graciously and without judging him she had accepted his past.
”How is it possible you don’t despise me?” he asked incredulously.
”For obeying the law or for momentarily giving in to your feelings from the past?”
A sad smile appeared briefly on his face. “Both.”
Sylvie mirrored his expression, her fingers gently exploring his hair.
“I can’t despise you for respecting the law even at the cost of carrying a burden on your shoulder for the rest of your life because it’s part of the man you are - the most honourable man I’ve ever known.”
She paused, reflecting on how easily he was willing to disobey the law when she was standing tied to the whipping post. However, there was a difference - she hadn’t committed any crime.
”And I can’t despise you for being human and letting the past make you do something which helped you realise what you really want, because it had brought you back to me…”
Athos sighed and closed his eyes, savouring the feel of her hand in his hair and the effect of her words on his troubled soul. He leaned his forehead against hers.
”There is nothing I want more, although I am flawed, damaged and broken...” he whispered. ”But sometimes I can’t help thinking that you deserve better…” The raw admission hurt his own ears.
”We are all flawed, damaged and broken, but we mend and make each other stronger…” Sylvie replied quietly, and a smile reached her dark eyes, blinking in the dim light.
”And I don’t need better.” She shook her head to manifest her words. “I already have the best - I have you.”
He opened his eyes and, completely disarmed by her words, smiled before cupping her cheek and pressing his lips to her mouth. His self-control combined with insecurity vanished like smoke at that moment, fully opening the door to a new chapter for him, for them.
Sylvie eagerly returned his kiss, unwilling to let the precious moment between them slip away. Paris was under a constant threat of a civil war but in that instant in the middle of the night, nothing was more important than Athos back in her life and for good this time.
The world around them started fading into oblivion, when Sylvie suddenly got weak in her knees, leaning heavily against Athos’s solid frame.
”Sylvie?” he asked, alarmed, supporting her by her arms.
”I’m fine, just…” she breathed, trying to fight off a heavy dizzy spell coming over her all at once. “I’m just a little dizzy, that’s all…”
”Here,” Athos commanded gently, leading her back to the bed. “Sit down.”
She sat down but didn’t release his hand. Instead, she made him sit next to her.
”Better?” he asked but noticed a few beads of sweat on her temple and forehead, glistening in the candlelight.
”Yes,” she lied with a small smile, not wanting to alarm him even more - the dizziness got only a bit milder. She had had several uncomfortable moments in recent days, but until that night, never in his presence. She knew there would have to come a time soon when they needed to speak, but it was not this night.
”Would you like anything to drink?” he inquired quietly, his eyebrows knitted with worry.
Sylvie smiled again and squeezed his hand.
”No, but there is something you could do for me,” she replied and looked at him.
Athos waited, expecting anything else but what he was about to hear, although considering everything, it was more than a logical conclusion to their conversation.
”You could lay down with me,” Sylvie spoke with a weak voice. “Just lay… I think you’ve spent enough uncomfortable time on that terrible thing you call a makeshift bed.”
The Captain saw the amusement in her eyes as she glanced at the mentioned object nearby consisting of a few empty crates covered by a couple of blankets and an old pillow of a questionable shape, and he chuckled.
”I am not going to argue, for lying in the wet and muddy trenches after fighting the Spanish gave me better comfort than this instrument of torture.” He grinned.
He stretched in his bed, and Sylvie lay down next to him, resting her head on his chest and arm across his waist. Athos carefully pulled the blanket over her and couldn’t suppress a sigh of relief. Until that moment, he hadn’t realised just how terribly he had missed her nearness, as if she took a part of him with her, leaving him incomplete and restless. His hand dived gently into her hair, enjoying the soft feel of her long, dense curls again. He lifted his head slightly and leaned it to her forehead, pressing a kiss on it, while caressing her cheek.
Sylvie smiled and tightened her hold on his waist before whispering the simple assurance.
”I have you…”
※※※
A soft knock on the door made Athos get up from his chair and walk over to answer it. It was still early morning, but he had been up for a while. At the sight of the young cadet who had voluntarily acted like his devoted servant in the past few days, his lips broke into a small smile.
“Thank you, Brujon,” the Captain said quietly, accepting the breakfast tray from him.
Sylvie was still asleep, gathering strength for a new day.
“Madame D’Artagnan sent food for both of you, as usual,” the cadet whispered, his humble face earnest as always. Athos smiled.
“Tell Constance this could feed the two of us and my horse,” he remarked, suddenly feeling spoilt, remembering the poor people of Paris struggling for food scraps every day. Sylvie had been one of them until just a few days ago, and as loyal as he had been to the Crown, he couldn’t help but feel angry at the King for not doing anything to help stop the suffering of his own people.
A small smile made its way onto Brujon’s face but faded as quickly as it had appeared.
The Captain noticed that something was bothering the young musketeer-in-training.
“What is it, Brujon?” he asked calmly.
A long pause and a glance at Sylvie’s resting form preceded the words finally spoken by the young man. “I am so sorry…”
Athos understood the miserable expression on his face with ease. He put his hand on the cadet’s shoulder, balancing the tray in the other.
“You have done nothing wrong,” he stated firmly.
“But I told your…”
“It doesn’t matter,” Athos interrupted him quietly. “What was done to Sylvie was Grimaud’s doing alone. He abused her good intention to discredit the Queen. It had nothing to do with my… former wife.”
Athos paused, focusing on Brujon’s eyes filled with remorse.
“You have always been honest and loyal, and that is something I admire and appreciate very much. There is nothing you need to apologise for. You have the making of a great musketeer, and I am grateful and proud of having you under my command.”
He pulled his hand back and smiled fondly. “Now go and have some breakfast as well before Porthos destroys all of it himself.”
For a moment, Brujon resembled a faithful dog that had just got a delicious bone from his master. His admiration and respect for the Captain knew no boundaries ever since his first days in the garrison. Therefore, he couldn’t keep his eyes from glistening as he let Athos’s words sink in.
“Thank you…” he whispered with a lump in his throat.
Realising he was staring, he blinked and nodded, turning and quietly closing the door behind him.
Athos chuckled and turned around, his eyes landing on Sylvie, lying in their now shared bed. Her eyes were open and a small smile played on her lips. His eyes grew softer.
“I’m not the only one who you got twisted around your finger,” she said, her eyes twinkling in the morning light.
That made him laugh, the very first time after long days of heaviness, anger, fear and frustration. He shook his head, not getting enough of the sight of her.
“I’m afraid it’s the other way round,” he remarked with a grin and walked toward her.
Sylvie chuckled and sat up on the bed. Seeing the amount of food piled up on the tray in his hands, she raised her eyebrows.
”I feel guilty just for looking at it, knowing half of Paris is starving,” she said with an air of shame.
The Captain’s look softened again, and a gentle smile reflected his fondness for Sylvie being Sylvie again.
”Don’t worry, there is still enough left for the poor that come here every day. Constance is immaculate in running this place and feeding those in need. And as you know by now, we don’t eat like this all the time,” he explained, avoiding mentioning This is only because of you. “Unless Porthos secretly manages to steal the larder key,” he added with a cheek.
She laughed. ”I know, sorry.”
She shook her head dismissively but regretted it immediately as another dizzy spell made her eyes blink and her hands reach for her temples. In daylight, Athos noticed that Sylvie’s complexion looked paler than usual. When he brought her to the garrison, she was physically and mentally exhausted, and although there was a big improvement in her state since then, she still looked tired. The memory of the incident from the previous night sent alarm bells into his brain. He knew her back wounds were healing well, but a nagging feeling of something being amiss made him feel uneasy.
”Dizzy again?” he asked, worried.
”Yes,” she replied but then felt a sudden relief. “But it’s gone now. Perhaps I’m just hungry.”
His tense frown said he wouldn’t be convinced so easily, but when she reached for a piece of bread, he sighed and nodded.
”Perhaps,” he agreed, still frowning, and tenderly stroking her head.
“I bet even the King doesn’t have such a feast on his plate this morning.” Sylvie pondered, smiling.
The Captain’s face relaxed as he reached for a piece of bread and an apple himself, ready to share the first meal of the day with his favourite woman.
”I am not so sure about that, but I know that he doesn’t enjoy his company as much as I do,” he remarked, pleased seeing Sylvie’s wide smile reaching her eyes.
Little did they both know that upon entering a new chapter of their relationship, across the city in the Palace, the King in question was about to eat the last breakfast of his own…
