Chapter 5

SYLVIE pov

"Yes, I hanged the woman I loved without a proper trial."

She couldn't stop the loud gasp that escaped her as her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

What she had heard before this was hard to believe, but then he confessed that he hanged his wife, and suddenly in front of her sat not only a stranger but also a cruel man. What kind of man hanged the woman he loved? If he could hang his wife and justify it then what else was he capable of?

"How could you do that?"

He looked sadly at her.

"I thought it was my duty to obey the law."

Before she could say anything else, Aramis stood up to join Porthos and D'Artagnan.

"You couldn't have let her run away or something? You said you loved her!"

Athos also rose and narrowed his eyes, now looking more angry than sorry.

"It was my duty! I loved her. But I also loved my brother."

Love. How could you kill the one you loved? It was such an unbelievable concept to her. Yet the man she thought she knew, the man she had a child with, had done the unthinkable. He admitted that he had done so without a trial yet he spoke of love. Sitting there speaking of his crimes he looked as though he was the victim. And she couldn't believe that she had not seen who he truly is.

The room felt suffocating as she sat there looking at the man she loved, no longer seeing him. She stood up and rushed towards the door, but before she could reach it, Athos grabbed her hand.

"Sylvie, wait."

She turned around and slapped him.

"Wait for what? What else are you hiding? What could possibly be worse than hanging your beloved wife?"

He did not glare but his eyes were cold and serious, making her freeze on her spot.

"This is just the beginning."

She yanked her arm back and sat down. He nodded in silent thanks and turned to look at his friends.

"I understand if you want to leave, but you were the ones who kept asking."

Porthos shook his head in disappointment and sat down with a loud growl, Aramis raised his eyebrows and did the same, while D'Artagnan still stood standing looking at his mentor in shock.

"How can you be so calm about it?"

Athos took a step back and settled back onto his chair.

"You know that it is not the truth. You saw what happened at Pinon when the house burned."

D'Artagnan threw his hands up but sat back down while taking a deep breath.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

Athos tilted his head slightly and then looked back at her.

"I did not stay for the hanging, I closed down the estate and rode for Paris. That is how I came to be in the Musketeers where I met Aramis and Porthos. And five years later, D'Artagnan. That same year, Porthos was injured during a mission, and we were forced to look for shelter. We happened to be near Pinon. When Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan rode out, I stayed behind, and a couple hours later I smelt the smoke. As it turned out, my wife was there. She had seduced the executioner, and he cut her down the moment I rode away all these years ago. She was alive, and wanted revenge. She burned the house and tried to slit my throat with a knife."

Aramis frowned.

"Then why didn't she?"

Athos let out a heavy breath.

"Remember the locket? She saw it, and ran away."

Aramis chuckled this time.

"So what are you trying to say? She still loved you?"

Athos visibly clenched his jaw and looked away.

"Something like that."

His wife loved him, but tried to kill him. What a pair they were. What kind of sick people did that? Was Athos still that person? What were the chances that he had changed?

She couldn't believe what she was hearing, but kept silent. She was no longer sure she wanted to know the truth, but she owed it to herself to find out why the man she had built a family with was so broken.

"As most of you know, Anne was working for the Cardinal. She was the one that set me up as the murderer of D'Artagnan's father, and all the others. She tried to get D'Artagnan to work for the Cardinal as well. And tried to kill Constance. And when I spared her life and told her to get out of France I truly believed that I would never see her again. But then she saved the King ,and became his mistress, and I had no choice but to watch her flaunt herself in front of another man."

She looked at Constance who's eyes were fixed on Athos. She had never told her that she was almost killed, by Athos' wife no less. His wife who apparently was also the King's mistress. What kind of woman was he married to?

For some reason she believed that Athos' current state must have been a consequence of her actions, for it must have taken a lot to break a man like him.

"Then Marmion happened. And Rochefort. And we were forced to work with her. And we were brought together by that. We were no longer the same people, but we still remembered what it was like to love each other, and we couldn't stop it. We wanted to be happy after everything."

D'Artagnan leaned forward in his seat and looked at Athos curiously.

"So something did happen between you two back then!"

Athos instead looked at him sorrowfully.

"Yes. When we were supposed to break into Rochefort's office I was following her through the streets, and noticed that I wasn't the only one doing so. Catherine was there. She put a noose around Milady's neck and tried to hang her. I was there, and caught her before she fell."

Porthos frowned.

"Catherine? How did she even find Milady?"

Athos ran his hand through his hair and shook his head.

"I told her that Milady was alive and in Paris."

D'Artagnan huffed in disbelief.

"Did anything else happen?"

Athos nodded once before answering.

"When Catherine tried to hang her, Milady once again claimed that Thomas tried to force himself on her. And when I later confronted her I realized that she had been telling the truth all these years ago. And it changed everything, because I was no longer sure that she had lied about everything as I previously believed."

Sylvie narrowed her eyes at him.

"So all these years… Not even for a second did you doubt that perhaps she was telling the truth? You didn't even consider that possibility?"

Athos did not even look guilty when he shook his head. He kept his composure, a perfect mask of calm and indifference, even when he looked up to meet her eyes.

"It is hard for me to trust those who break my trust."

Constance had once told her the same, and now she knew to what extent that was the truth. The man she had trusted was capable of violence and had no understanding and compassion for those who lied to him.

"What happened after that?"

Athos leaned back in his chair and focused his attention on the bottle of wine that stood in the corner of the room.

"She wanted to start anew, so she offered me to go to England together. But Treville made me Captain, and I was forced to go to war."

Porthos stood up and walked up to him.

"And if there was no war?"

Athos looked up at him sadly.

"Then I would have gone with her."

Porthos frowned but turned away and reached for the wine.

"I think we all need a drink."

Aramis also stood up and joined Porthos, but Athos stopped them.

"That is not the end."

The two ex-Musketeers turned around at the same time and looked at him with wide eyes.

"As D'Artagnan said, she and I met again, before I resigned my position as Captain of the Musketeers."

Aramis and Porthos sank back into their chairs.

"I walked into the office and she was there. She was waiting for me. I couldn't believe that she was there, because she told me that I would never see her again. But there she was. And I was happy to see her again. But then she mentioned Sylvie."

He looked up at her.

"You were abducted at that time, and I was worried. When she mentioned your name I was worried that she had something to do with it and… I lashed out."

He turned his eyes towards his friends.

"I acted quite cruelly. And probably quite violently."

D'Artagnan shook his head.

"What did you…"

But Aramis interrupted.

"You tried to strangle her?! I saw a bruise on her neck when she was talking to the Queen. So it was you? You tried to kill her."

Athos did not even try to deny it as he let out a heavy breath and stared straight at the floor.

She did not know what to say. As if hanging his wife was not enough, he had tried to kill her again after they reconciled. Before she could say anything Aramis was already leaving the room. D'Artagnan grabbed Constance's hand and walked out the same way. It didn't take long for Porthos to do the same.

They sat in complete silence, and she had no idea what to do next. She had no desire to stay there. How could she trust him after finding out what he did? She had trusted him. Trusted him with a child. And it turned out that the man that she had known had never been real.

She stood up shakily and went to collect her coat. She was leaving. She had friends in Paris that could help her, she could continue where she left off, and forget that she spent years of her life with Athos. She would never forget their daughter, but she could forget the humiliation she felt when she and Athos would go out together and he would stick out like a sore thumb amongst the people. At least now she knew why he couldn't adjust to a quiet life.

She got what she wanted. The truth. But it had cost her everything.

When she turned back towards him she noticed that he had pulled out something. As she took a step closer she realized what it was.

A white glove.

A woman's silk glove. It didn't take her long, knowing everything that he told her today, who was the owner of the glove. But she still asked him the question, because she was hoping that perhaps she was wrong.

"What is that?"

Athos rubbed his finger on the silk.

"Her glove. She left it at the crossroads where we were supposed to meet to go to England together. But I was late."

A look of disgust found its place on her face.

"Athos. You tried to kill her, and now you sit here looking at her glove."

He nodded and tilted his head to the side.

"I know. But I miss her."

She dropped her coat to the ground.

"Athos…"

He didn't turn his head towards her, instead kept looking at the glove.

"I know you are leaving."

She bit her lip, but her anger was not letting her feel guilt.

"Our daughter is dead and all you can think about is your wife."

He turned his head to look at her.

"Well she is my wife. And I miss the man I was back then. I was happy. We were happy. Is it really so bad to desire happiness?"

She made a step in his direction.

He had just admitted that he still loved his wife. That he wanted his wife.

"You are sick."

You can't love someone that you want to kill. You can't love someone who wants to kill you. You can't hate and love so strongly at the same time.

It was wrong.

But there he sat with the white glove as some sort of trophy. There he sat, the man she thought she loved, the man she had a family with, the man she thought she would spend the rest of her days with. The man she believed to be kind, just, and brave. And it turned out that he was neither of those things. He was a brute, with some mental affliction, because she would never believe that a sane person could desire someone who they hated equally if not more than they loved them.

Athos glared at her slightly.

"You will never understand it. True love. She loved me despite all my faults the same way I loved her."

What kind of person tells a person they supposedly loved that?

Suddenly she felt anger. She had been kind, she had given him a daughter, and a new life, and he was willing to throw it all away for a woman who tried to kill him. Had he ever loved her? Or had he simply "done his duty" by raising the child?

"Did you ever love me? Our daughter?"

He stood up and walked closer to her.

"I loved our daughter more than you can imagine. She brought me joy, and I will forever love you as the mother of my child."

So that's what she was.

Before she could pacify her ire she picked up the empty bottle of wine that stood on the nearby table and smashed it against his face.