ATHOS pov
The field was lit by a bright orange light giving the grass a yellow hue. The only thing he could hear was the wind, howling, blowing through the tall grass. He sat atop Roger, his hat dropped over his eyes, obstructing the last rays of sun. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine that he was back in Pinon, a place that he strangely found himself missing lately.
It was a warm summer day, and his shirt hung slightly open, while his doublet had been thrown off altogether. In one hand he held a wineskin, almost emptied, and in the other the horse's reins.
It's been a month since he left Paris. And he had yet to spend at least one day without missing his friend, his brothers. Life seemed almost empty now, and he found himself bored senseless without Aramis and Porthos constantly joking around, and D'Artagnan's youthful joy. He also found himself nervous without Treville's advice, and his pauldron. He felt somewhat defenseless without his uniform, and very disinterested without the constant noise of a big city.
It reminded him so much of Pinon. Days filled with nothingness and boredom, large fields, beautiful sunsets, and no friends. At least in Pinon he had a library, he had duties. Here he had nothing except Sylvie. And as much as he loved her, he could not say that she was a particularly interesting person.
She was opinionated and had knowledge of politics, but unfortunately not to the extent that she believed she did. She knew much about the common people, but knew very little of nobility and how they operated and why. She only knew the stereotypical greedy lords that did everything for money, and she believed all nobles to be the same. But what about those who believed in duty? Honor? Those who served their King because they loved France? Those who put money into the defense of their country? Those like him?
He stopped speaking of politics with her because he soon realized that the only way to change her mind would be to tell her the truth about himself. And he was not ready to do that. And would likely never be.
As the sun disappeared beneath the grass, Roger shook his head, reminding him that it was time to head back home. He swung the wineskin back and finished the wine with one large gulp before grabbing the reins with his second hand and leading Roger back home. It had become a hobby of sorts, to ride for a couple hours and then watch the sun set behind the fields. During this "ride" he would remember the long rides with Thomas. And the numerous hours spent with his wife, making love in a field just like this one.
He rode through the town, just like every other time, watching, and pretending not to, as other villagers looked up at him. At first they would look with suspicion, some thinking that he was a visiting noble. Then, as they realized he lived amongst them, with confusion. The only person not realizing that his posture was just a little too rigid, chin a little too high, and horse a little too expensive, even for a soldier, was Sylvie. His sword was practical, just like any soldier's, but cost him 5 times more, and the naturally arrogant look on his face had been adopted years before he joined the Musketeers.
Sylvie would have dinner ready, and would wait for him to return before starting. Over the meal she would tell him about her day, about her school. The kids, how they learned to read and write. And many times he almost offered to help her, but kept quiet every time, afraid to provoke questions that he would not be able to answer truthfully.
As he left Roger in the stable, and made his way into the house he realized there were voices. Unfamiliar voices, along with Sylvie's, coming from the kitchen. Without even realizing his hand found its place at the hilt of the sword while his other still held his dark brown doublet. As he came closer he realized that the house was brightly lit, and properly cleaned.
He stopped by the opened door. Sylvie was sitting, with two others, a young couple it would seem, talking excitedly about something. She was the first to notice his presence, and as soon as she turned her head, the other two followed her gaze. He could only imagine what he looked like, with his hair disheveled by the wind, and clothes disarranged.
"I see we have guests."
Sylvie smiled sweetly and stood up to greet him.
"I thought you wouldn't mind."
He leaned down and kissed her cheek before looking down at the couple sitting at the table.
"I don't."
Sylvie smiled again and grabbed his hand and led him to the table.
"Then maybe you would like to join us."
He curtly nodded and followed her without protest. The young couple eyes him strangely but he kept his discontent from showing for Sylvie's sake.
They stood up when he walked over. They were most likely in their twenties, and slightly reminded him of D'Artagnan and Constance. Sylvie let go off his arm and turned towards the two guests.
"This is Lea and her husband Jules. I met them today at the market."
He shook the man's hand and exchanged a nod with his wife.
"I apologize for my tardiness, if I had known we had guests I would have made the effort to return sooner."
The man, Jules, looked at him skeptically and for a few seconds they stood in an awkward silence, looking at each other. Until Sylvie finally spoke.
"Well, now that Athos is here, we should continue with dinner?"
Lea nodded enthusiastically and pulled her husband back to the chairs along with her. He waited for them all to sit before he pulled out the fourth chair and sat down beside Sylvie.
She passed him a bowl of beef stew and potatoes, and they all continued to eat in silence. He kept his eyes down on his food, but that didn't stop him from feeling the couple's gazes constantly lingering on him a little too long.
When he finally looked up, he realized that Sylvie had also noticed the stares. So he turned his gaze back to Jules and tilted his head slightly.
"You keep staring at me."
The young man almost dropped his fork when he realized he was the one being spoken to. He stopped chewing and looked around.
He kept looking at Jules, who looked like a fish out of water, unable to say anything. The silence went on until Lea finally spoke up.
"I'm sorry. It's just that when Sylvie told us about you, we expected someone… younger..?"
He didn't know what to do. Laugh maybe? Porthos would have laughed. Say something witty? That's what Aramis would do. Look shocked and attempt puppy eyes? Like D'Artagnan would do.
He truly didn't know what to do. Her bluntness has shocked him so that he couldn't even lift an eyebrow and glare like he always does. So he sat there, a look of complete disinterest on his face as he stared at the young man.
With the side of his vision he noticed that Sylvie looked at him worriedly and kept looking between Lea and Jules and him. He let out a breath.
"I'm deeply flattered."
He got back to his food, expecting silence to carry on, but Sylvie clearly had different plans.
"I told you that he was the Captain of the Musketeers. How young did you expect him to be?"
There was a note of humor in her words and she smiled as she talked.
Lea smiled back and put her fork down as she turned slightly towards Sylvie.
"I didn't really think about that. I thought he would be 20 something like most soldiers."
He ignored all the looks as he finished the meal and kept his gaze on anything in the room except the young couple.
"I was a Musketeer. Most men who join have already served in the army, or have some military experience. They are not most soldiers, they are elite guards, personally selected by the King."
His cold tone drew everyone's attention, just as he expected.
He used their surprise to turn towards Jules.
"But I don't expect everyone to know much about serving their country."
He knew that Jules hadn't done anything to deserve his words, but the constant stares were getting on his nerves. The young man was tall and lanky, and one look at his hands told Athos that he had never picked up a sword.
Jules in return only looked shocked and once again gaped at him like a fish. Lea on the other hand looked half guilty, half slighted by his words. Sylvie glared at him, and his obvious jab, but he couldn't find it in himself to be sorry. The wine he drank earlier did its job, and he was feeling even more detached than usual.
Lea caught Sylvie's glare and tried to stir the conversation away.
"So, Sylvie! Was it like it is in all the stories? A soldier comes home from war and meets a beautiful girl, and they fall in love and marry?"
He held back the huff that threatened to escape his mouth when Lea finished her question. This time he truly wanted to laugh. He never assumed commoner to be stupid, but Lea and Jules were quickly proving to be just that.
Sylvie blushed slightly and smiled.
"Not exactly."
Lea returned the smile.
"So where did you marry? In Paris? It must have been awfully romantic to marry in Paris!"
And… he almost let his jaw drop. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth, knowing that Lea would very soon be disappointed. He expected Sylvie to change the subject, to even lie perhaps.
She did no such thing.
"We are not married, yet."
He saw Lea's face drop, but she quickly regained her composure and her smile as she glanced at Jules.
"Why not? I'm not judging, but I'm curious."
Sylvie glazed at him quickly, but he avoided her gaze, knowing what she was about to say.
"Athos has yet to ask."
Lea looked at him with a questioning look.
"Really? Well why don't you two marry at the local church?"
He kept his eyes fixated on her, and stared at her impassively. Who even asked that sort of question? It was not her business. Married or not, it mattered little. It is not as though he could marry Sylvie, even if he wanted. But the others couldn't know that. There would be too much to explain, too much to reveal. And he was not in the mood for reminiscing.
He kept his mouth shut, deciding that the best option was to say nothing.
Jules sat up in the chair and leaned forward against the table.
"Are you afraid to marry or something?"
He didn't bother switching his gaze over to the man before answering.
"No."
Jules huffed quietly, and clearly didn't realize that the "no" was supposed to be the end of the conversation.
"Then why haven't you married her yet?"
He took a deep breath and turned his head towards Jules.
"And to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs…"
All three stared at him in confusion.
He rolled his eyes and glared at Jules.
"Have you've never read the Bible?"
Jules narrowed his eyes.
"I am not religious."
Athos couldn't help the slight lift of his chin.
"Neither am I. I have read it nonetheless."
He ignored Sylvie's surprised look and kept looking at Jules.
"What it means is you should keep your nose away from what does not concern you."
Jules glared at him like a petulant child who's toy had just been taken away. But before he can say anything Sylvie speaks.
"Well why not, Athos?"
He turns towards her and feels his nails dig into his palm. He knows he can't simply say no, he knows she will get angry, the same way she gets angry every time he tells her half truths or tells her nothing at all. The thing is, he expected this question sooner or later, and being the strategic thinker that he is he has it all planned out.
"Because I don't believe in marriage."
Lea huffs and shakes her head.
"You can't say that if you've never been married."
He turns his gaze to the young woman, knowing he wouldn't be able to look at the look of betrayal that would soon find its place on Sylvie's face.
"But I have. And have no desire to be married again."
It was so similar to what he told Ninon de Larroque all these years ago.
The only problem was that unlike Ninon, Sylvie did believe in marriage, and she also didn't know that he had been married before, something that any man would have told the woman he plans to start a family with before starting the family.
Sylvie stands up from her chair and looks down at him with tears starting to pool at her eyes.
"And you haven't thought to tell me this before?"
He doesn't look up, prefering to stare at Lea as he answers.
"You never asked."
He expects a slap. But it never comes. Instead Sylvie storms out of the room.
Left alone with the young couple he continues staring at them until they realize that he won't say anything. They eventually get up and leave.
He doesn't bother seeking Sylvie out, knowing that she needs time to calm down and process what he told her, so he leaves the house and heads towards Roger's stall. Roger is happy to see him, and offers him something that no one else can. Solace and peace and absolute silence. So he presses his head against Roger's neck and relaxes.