Chapter 4

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Sylvie reached the Captain's lodgings in no time but once standing at the open door, she stopped, hesitating.

Athos stood behind the table, looking out of the window. She couldn't see his face, as he was standing with his back to her, but his absolute physical stillness spoke about the exact opposite playing out in his mind. Sylvie made a few slow steps forward, closing the door quietly behind her. She had been living in the garrison for only a short while, but she knew how much its former Captain had meant to each of its inhabitants. Athos didn't speak a lot about him but from the little he had shared with her and her own experience, she understood there had been more than just a professional relationship connecting the two men. There was mutual respect, loyalty and warm friendship.

Sylvie watched Athos for a long beat, giving him time. He knew she was there even without turning his head.
"I know that nothing I say can change it," Sylvie eventually said, getting no response. "You don't have to talk about it, but if you want to, I'm here."

She leaned against the nearby wall, watching him in silence. Yes, she knew his pain. Having lost her father not long ago, she knew that someone's supporting presence meant so much more than words of consolation. Athos was such a presence for her when her father died, even though he had barely known her back then. Yet the few words from him meant more than anything else to her, because they were heartfelt and genuine, spoken exactly when she needed it most. Whatever his choice was now, she would accept it. However, as the passing, quiet minutes stretched, Sylvie thought her attention was probably misplaced; Athos was, after all, a man of few words, especially in dramatic situations.

"If you wish to be alone, I'll leave you," she remarked gently and turned to leave.
"Your father loved you, didn't he?" Athos finally spoke, his soft voice colourless.
Sylvie stopped and turned back to him; he was still looking out of the window.
"Yes, he did," she answered, with a bittersweet smile on her lips.
"I never knew father's love when I was growing up," Athos stated. "Ever since I was a child, my brother had been the pride of the family, the exemplary son. I was usually 'Olivier, the younger one'."

There was no trace of bitterness or anger in his voice, merely melancholy that Sylvie was already familiar with. However, it was the first time he had mentioned his real name. Glad he decided to open up, she slowly walked to stand beside him. That's when she first saw his face – paler and looking older than ever as if it were years and not just a mere couple of hours when she had seen him last. His usually deeply expressive blue eyes were distant. Less than a week ago, he stood at the exact spot at the window, telling her the tragic story of his ill-fated love for the current Milady de Winter. However, today, she saw sadness that seemed much deeper, much more profound.

"Thomas was always the favourite, the stronger, cleverer and bolder one," Athos remembered. "But I loved him anyway… He could be rough with the servants, but he never treated me unkindly. So I ignored his flaws, the nasty rumours about him, even when Anne claimed he…" He paused, lowering his eyes for a moment." I think he took pity on me, seeing I would never step out of his shadow... Like our father, I didn't want to see the real him. He adored his first-born, and I believed it was my duty to love him too, despite always being only the second in the line… Maybe that's why my father never paid much attention to me. Until I changed his idea of getting me married to a young woman of his choice and decided to get engaged to Anne."

A deep sigh tore from his throat. He finally turned his head to look at Sylvie, who was listening to him intently, her facial expression revealing compassion – no pity though, for she knew the Captain was not a man expecting any.

"I suppose he was disappointed," Sylvie remarked neutrally.
Athos snorted. "Outraged is a more appropriate word," he said, regarding her briefly, momentarily thinking how easily he could have fallen into a life he would have hated, and missed meeting the special woman by his side.
"He threatened to disinherit me, take away my title and privileges. I didn't care," he admitted genuinely. "I never cared much for all those things anyway. Ironically, my father died before I even proposed to Anne. He never got to see me marry her and Thomas marry the young woman my father had chosen for me." He knitted his brows, his look distant again. "I can't remember if we ever had a heartfelt, genuine father and son conversation in my life."

Sylvie felt a lump in her throat. In her own life, she was blessed with both loving parents, even if for a short time, and despite worlds between her and Athos in social class terms, she was so much richer than the Captain, that it almost made her feel guilty.
Her hand reached for his hand, and he willingly closed their hold, glad for the physical connection, slowly losing his strength to keep his emotions inside. His eyes glistened.

"I never knew fatherly love," he continued when he lifted her eyes to her face again. "Until I came here… to become a musketeer…"
That simple statement expressed everything. Athos's eyes filled with tears at last, as he took a few deep, shaky breaths, trying to steady himself – in vain. His hand covered his face in the last attempt to hide the pain that had hit him with brutal force. He felt Sylvie's arms gently wrapping around him, a gesture which always brought him pleasure, joy or consolation, but this time, he was unable to feel anything but something resembling a knife being twisted in his heart; grief completely took over where strength and resilience roamed before. Either way, Athos let himself be cradled, letting his strained sobs disappear in Sylvie's dense, long curls, grasping at her with all his remaining strength.

She didn't speak, only her body did, expressing everything she felt he needed to know. Sylvie felt her heart breaking yet again for the man in her arms, and, surprisingly to her, also for the man who loved his country so much that he sacrificed his life for it. She remembered the first time she had seen Treville during the events at Christophe's tavern. His relentless efforts to prevent further violence and protect the veterans from the Red Guard left a deep impression on her. Her eyes started burning, and she couldn't fight the sensation, just as she couldn't fight off another memory that came to her at that moment. It had happened only three days earlier but left an everlasting mark on her mind and soul…

She had just awakened from a brief, restless sleep. Her back pain was still proving a challenge; not even a day had passed since her flogging. She attempted to push herself up to sit but gave up immediately, falling back on her chest as she had barely any strength.
"Don't push yourself too hard. You need more rest," a calming, soft-spoken voice said beside her.

Laboriously, Sylvie managed to turn her head to the side where the voice came from and she opened her mouth involuntarily at the sight of the man sitting by the bed, calmly watching her.
"You?" she asked incredulously, her voice strained.
"I'm not going to disturb you; Athos will be back soon," Treville said quietly. "I only came to see how you were and to… apologise."
A mild haze still clouded Sylvie's sight, but her mind suddenly seemed very clear.
"What for?"

Treville briefly lowered his eyes, but she didn't miss the flash of guilt in them.
"The King… For all his trust in me ever since he was a child, I find it quite difficult to break through his stubbornness lately. I tried to explain to him the pamphlet was not of your doing; Athos tried too, but Louis would have none of it."

Sylvie's mouth felt suddenly dry and she swallowed hard. The Minister's unexpected but sincere apology touched her, as did the remark about Athos. To have someone go to such lengths on her behalf was something she hadn't experienced for some time. She was used to looking after herself and fighting her own battles, especially since the death of her father, but she had to admit this new knowledge caused a ripple of warmth in her chest.

"The King is blind to… many things…" she heard her weak, unusually deep voice say and sighed, still watching him intently from her awkward lying position. "You've tried… Thank you."
There was a moment of silence when Treville regarded the young woman curiously. Then a smile crept onto his face.

"I heard you were very brave," he said, and his smile faded a little as he imagined her standing at the whipping post for a crime she had not committed.
"More defiant… than brave," she replied, and Treville chuckled.
"Defiance and bravery go hand in hand in every battle for a good cause," he said. "Either way, I'm…glad it didn't get too far."
"Not more than me," Sylvie couldn't resist the tease, bringing an amused smile to the Minister's face again. At first, he was mainly curious about the woman who had enchanted the Captain of the Musketeers like no other woman in years. However, the more he spoke to her, the more he liked her honesty and the unique charm radiating from her. There was a sense of real strength and courage about her.

There were questions Sylvie wanted to ask but she lacked the energy to do so. Despite this being the first proper conversation the refugee and the Minister ever had, she felt surprisingly comfortable in his presence and, acknowledging his obvious intelligence and empathy, now fully understood why he was so popular with everyone in the garrison. She noticed he had turned pensive.

"I always thought a Captain could only work to his maximal potential when focusing only on his duties," Treville pondered. "I believed any distraction could prove fatal in a decisive moment." He paused.
"What has changed… your mind?" Sylvie asked with some effort.
Treville sighed before answering, her intelligence making him smile.

"Plain and simple, I was wrong. Athos had been lonely since the day I met him; he didn't have an easy life, which I knew nothing about at first, but he has always fulfilled orders, although I know he hasn't agreed with all of them. Loyalty is a virtue that not many hold sacred in these times, but if there has been one man I could always rely on, it's Athos, and that has never changed. He didn't want to be a Captain, but I didn't give him a choice… I thought he was the best for the position and as always, he obeyed my order. He has earned genuine respect; his musketeers would follow him to Hell if needed, just as he would do the same for them. Athos always puts others first, being the last to leave any battle." He paused for another sigh. "Love can sometimes be a hindrance but also a great driving force. The point is, Athos has had his share of ugliness and tragedy in his life. A man shouldn't have to live alone, whatever his calling. That's why he deserves better."

Sylvie almost forgot about her pain, completely absorbed in Treville's words.
"We may not know each other much," the Minister continued softly after he leaned closer to her, "but I know Athos, and I think I understand now how much and why you are so important to him."
For this compliment, she could find no reply, only a little smile.
"Athos will need you, Sylvie," Treville said, stating the inevitable. "He will need the help of everyone he can get, but especially you. Be his driving force, the light in his darkness, the one thing that will make him fight even harder, and not just now in these sad times we are living… Give him what he deserves, what you both deserve. Always."

Something warm and wet ran down Sylvie's cheek, and she knew it wasn't pain that had caused the solitary tear to escape. She nodded, gladly promising the Minister what he asked her for.
Treville smiled warmly, taking in her moved expression. There was an unexpected gleam in his eyes.
"He will make a great father," he said.
Sylvie almost choked. How could he…? No, it wasn't possible.
"Both of you will be parents that any child could be proud of and lucky to have."

Before Sylvie could reply, Treville covered her hand with his and squeezed it lightly. Then he stood up and with one last smile, he left her alone – speechless and deep in thought.

"Everything I know, everything I am as a musketeer and a man today is because of him," Athos said quietly as they lay in each other's arms in bed. The cup of wine Sylvie poured him earlier was left untouched on the bedside table. There were days when Athos would drink to forget. That night, he didn'tdrink - to remember.
Sylvie thought before replying, although she couldn't suppress a sad smile.
"He was a great man then," she said, her smile fading. "And we both owe him."

They remained silent for a while, each contemplating life, loss and everything that had crossed their paths. How many good men would still have to lose their lives before people understood that there was a way to live a decent and fulfilled life without killing each other?

"I have never seen the Queen so distraught," Athos said. "She had just lost her husband, but the shock and remorse on her face when I told her was something I will never forget."
"Maybe she was afraid she has no more support in the court," Sylvie pondered.
Athos sighed, stroking her arm absently.
"She told me their last words were anything but friendly; they parted on bad terms. She felt betrayed by the King making him Regent and was very angry about Treville keeping her son away from her after the King died. She didn't want to understand it was for the boy's protection so that France wouldn't be in danger of losing the royal heir."
"That's understandable, she's a mother," Sylvie remarked.
"Yes, but she's also a Queen. Her duty will always be to the country first, above her personal duties and feelings. In all the years she has been on the throne, this was probably the hardest lesson she had to learn, and the way it happened… she will regret it for the rest of her life."

Sylvie turned her head to see his face. It was still pale, his cheekbones more pronounced than usual, his eyes red, filled with sadness. All the years of carrying his private burdens alone were written in his features, making him look more mature than his age way too early, but nothing like the loss he had suffered today. Today, his heart broke in a way it hadn't before, for he lost someone who was no relation to him legally, but was in every way something he had never had – a father.

"When is the funeral?" she asked softly, her hand resting in his on his chest.
"In four days, after the King had been laid to rest. It will be a stately one," Athos replied, admiring the darkening ceiling above them as the shadows on the walls grew longer. "If there had ever been a man who deserved one, it's Treville, and the Queen knows it. She asked me, Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan to carry his coffin. It's the last honour we can do him." He swallowed a lump in his throat.
"I will be there," Sylvie stated after a beat, making him look at her. "Outside the cathedral," she added, knowing she would never be let inside on such a special occasion. "I want to pay my respects."
The Captain observed her with curiosity but admiration as well, before she spoke more.
"And to be there… with you."

She knew he understood. From now on, there were bound together by more than just words and love, wherever the path would lead them. Sylvie recalled her conversation with the late Minister and realised, he had understood it too. It was the last gift he had given Athos, the son he never had – his blessing.

Athos didn't reply, only kissed her forehead and hid her slender, violence-tested body in his arms. He knew that even darker days were ahead of them, threatening not only Paris but the whole of France. However, he was too tired to worry about it right then. His vision got blurry, and his mind started drifting away. Exhausted by grief, he was grateful for Sylvie's nearness, wishing for nothing more but sleep, knowing he needed to recover his strength. This loss would take some time to heal from.

He also knew that although today was hard, tomorrow would be even harder – their greatest enemy was still out there.

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