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Chapter 2

We need the sweet pain of anticipation
to tell us we are really alive.
- Albert Camus -

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The crowd of people in the refugee camp eagerly reaching their hands for bits of food mercifully provided to them was growing bigger with each day. It was no exception that afternoon as two young women joined others, patiently waiting for their turn. They only managed to get a few pieces of bread and cheese for breakfast and had no high expectations to receive any more for late lunch or early dinner, for they only got two rations a day. One of the women seemed miles away from the hungry assembly, pushing forward toward the wagon where a middle-aged man was nervously giving out what most people would call food scraps.

"Everyone is getting hungrier every day," Rochelle said with sadness.
"Hmm," her friend replied absently, her eyes looking at the crowd but not really seeing it.
Rochelle observed her curiously, unused to such a plain reply, without any hint of heated words accusing the Crown of negligence toward its people.
"All right, who are you and what have you done with Sylvie?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Only then did Sylvie's mind return to the present, and she chuckled.
"I'm sorry… My head was somewhere else," she said quietly.
"I noticed, like often lately. Somewhere near a tall, dark-haired, bearded, blue-eyed and moderately good-looking musketeer?"
"Yes…What?!" Sylvie snapped from daydreaming, but too late to avoid a subconscious slip of her tongue.
Rochelle laughed. "I may be younger than you but I have eyes."

Sylvie sighed and tried to regain her focus. She couldn't help a small smile, though.
"That smile is dangerous," her friend remarked, the expression on her face combining amusement and worry. "You know he's not…"
"I know. He's not one of us," Sylvie interrupted the girl. "But he's not exactly against us, is he? Athos is not just an ordinary soldier. He and his friends are honourable men. Or have you already forgotten how he helped to save us and Christophe from death?"
"Of course, I haven't," Rochelle admitted, shaking her head. "From the one time I have seen him, he seems like a decent man. I'm just saying you should take things… carefully. At least until you get to know him better." She paused. "That's if you ever see him again."

Sylvie couldn't help but feel a little stab somewhere inside imagining never seeing Athos again. She had left the door open for him but would he dare to walk through it? At their last encounter, she had a feeling he would, but days passed and there was no sight of him…

Suddenly, she felt a light touch on her forearm.
"I'm sorry, Sylvie," Rochelle apologised with a guilty look. "It's your life and I know you're not stupid. I guess it's just difficult for me to trust anyone from outside these days, with the way we have been treated…"
"You don't need to apologise. I understand." Sylvie smiled, briefly covering her friend's hand and squeezing it. After her father's death, Rochelle had been her greatest support and friend.
They went silent, slowly inching closer toward the food wagon, each deep in their own thoughts.

Sylvie's mind drifted back to her former home in the countryside, far away from the lively and dirty streets of Paris, miles away from their struggles in the camp. Her childhood days brought back memories of her late father, teaching her to read and write, form her own opinions and defend herself with a stick, later with a sword he had in his possession from his younger days. She smiled when imagining herself as a girl, chasing the chickens around the backyard of their small house with a wooden stick, pretending them to be enemies.

Her smile faded as she remembered how a child's game quickly turned into reality when the war forced them to flee their home and seek refuge in Paris four years earlier, sadly losing Sylvie's mother to a bad case of flu only a short time before. Sylvie wasn't a child anymore back then, yet apart from the grief, the loss of her mother also meant a new chapter in her life. The innocence of days gone by turned into a bittersweet memory, replaced by the sense of responsibility toward her father and her own life, and with time and a growing struggle for survival, the mission of fighting for a better life for everyone in their new home.

For four years, no one showed any empathy towards the refugees, frequently bullied by the Red Guard, mostly for no justified reason, until a group of musketeers entered the camp and helped them to save not only the refugees' lives but also their honour. Many things have changed in the short time since then, one of them being Sylvie losing her father. Yet the greatest change was the shift in her heart. By meeting Athos, for the first time in her life, Sylvie felt she had met a man who caught her interest right from the off, made her think outside her well-established box and forced her to try seeing things from both sides of the camp's wall, not only her own. Something was drawing her to him like a magnet, and her usually sharp focus on all things important was slipping more often than she would have wished. It wasn't just his handsome face, graceful walk, and his powerful presence that Sylvie found attractive. Athos's broody yet kind, even playful eyes, his strong sense of justice, calm demeanour and his diplomatic skills in the hour of need were among the qualities that truly impressed her.

Sylvie had met many young men among the refugees since her arrival in Paris. Some of them even tried to approach her in a more than friendly way, but none of them had awakened such interest and above all, feelings in her than the Captain of the Musketeers. It was as if Athos opened the door to a part inside her that was sleeping until then. She was still barely in her mid-twenties, but the harsh reality she had to live in for the past four years gave her a level of maturity she wouldn't have reached until later years. Perhaps that was why her heart was mute toward the efforts of the men in her surroundings.

And then Athos suddenly appeared, and it seemed she had finally found her match, even though in a place she would have expected it the least. His natural charm and obvious but unobtrusive interest in her since they had met again in Christophe's tavern was something she couldn't shake off her mind.

"Do you think my father would be disappointed in me?" Sylvie asked suddenly with unusual insecurity.
Rochelle looked at her and smiled, shaking her head.
"Your father was always proud of you and trusted your judgement. He would be a bit worried, but no… not disappointed."

Rochelle's honest words put Sylvie's mind at ease, and smiling, she relaxed again. She noticed they had almost reached the wagon by now, although more and more people were coming and joining them. All at once, she knitted her eyebrows and shot her friend a side glance.

"Moderately good-looking?" she asked incredulously.
Both women suddenly laughed, lifting the tense atmosphere immediately.
"All right, quite good-looking. That's all you're going to get," Rochelle corrected her statement, chuckling.
"I can live with that," her friend replied with a satisfied grin.

After they finally received their bits of bread and cheese (as Sylvie correctly predicted earlier), both friends parted ways, walking toward their respective lodgings. The quite pleasantly mild afternoon was already nearing its later part, as Sylvie walked through the camp's labyrinth of narrow passageways, filled with washing lines, playing children and adults engaged in talks together. Seeing the poverty all around, her heart ached all over again, making her even more determined to do everything in her power to change it.

She had just reached the shack she called her home when the sight of a man dressed in black, with a sword attached at his hip, sitting at the bottom of the staircase made her stop, surprised… and thrilled.

Athos smiled at her, his eyes two sparkling diamonds at the sight of her, conveying without words his genuine joy of them meeting again. True to his nature, he let his actions speak for him.
"You like taking your time," Sylvie teased him with a grin when he remained silent. The unruly waves of his hair framing his face and his leisurely posture made it harder for her to resist the temptation to do something spontaneous.
"I like making sure I make the right decisions," he replied with an enigmatic smile.

He stood up to let her pass, and as she approached him, their eyes met again.
"And have you… made the right decision?" she asked, hypnotised by the intensity in his blue irises.
Athos's smile widened. "Only time and you can tell me."

Sylvie lowered her eyes, allowing herself a moment more before walking up the stairs. She entered the shack with a wide smile still lingering on her face. Athos's eyes watched her silently until she disappeared from his sight; he knew for sure now that he was welcome. He didn't want to think about the possible consequences. All that mattered was the present, that one moment in time when their paths collided to create something new, whatever it was to be.

Taking a deep breath, he finally moved and walked up the stairs, following her inside and having a strong feeling that his life was about to take a new course.

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