So let's pretend the relationship between Athos and Sylvie didn't develop faster than it takes me to make instant noodles.
So this is very different from what I usually write, not only because it's more explicit but also because it explores a very important subject - consent.

Note, this in no way portrays my opinions on sex and consent, and it doesn't portray the characters as I saw them in the show, it was just something I though worth exploring in my writing, especially seeing as Athos is often portrayed with a darker side that makes him capable of being cruel.

Seeing as I personally have no real life experience with sexual relations it was hard for me to write this scene, and I hope it was realistic enough or at least not too cringe. (what a way to publicly admit you're a virgin)

I'm not sure at what moment in the story my fanfic fits but uh I guess it was just a random idea.

I hope you guys enjoy, at least as much as it's possible to enjoy stories like this that edge on consent issues.

Yeah also let's pretend I haven't been gone for like a year lmao

(Sylvie)

She pushed the door closed. The apartment, dimly lit, smelled of candle wax and wood, unlike Athos' quarters at the Garrison with the distinct smell of leather and sweat, like every other room in that building. It is the first time he brings her here, and it is not at all what she expected. Instead of books, weapons, and perhaps some personal items, there is nothing - one could confuse it for rented rooms in some cheap inn. There is a bed, two medium sized chests, a table and a chair. But they're not here for a nice cozy evening.

They celebrated D'Artagnan's birthday in a small tavern near the Garrison. Everyone was in a good mood, especially once they got their hands on wine. Everyone - except Athos, whose mood seemed to worsen with every sip of alcohol. The more he drank, the less he spoke, and by the end of the night any attempt to converse with him were less successful than if she were to talk to a mute.

But then once everyone left, he pressed her against a wall in the alleyway and kissed her with such passion she decided his silence was worth it. She knew what he wanted and she didn't mind, what else were they supposed to do at such an ungodly hour? They haven't yet discussed who they were to each other, but Athos was handsome and kind, and there was something about the melancholy in his eyes that made her curious.

Sylvie snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Athos throw his doublet on the chair. He was yet to say a word, even as he led her here, he would only pull her hand in the right direction. Dropping her cloak onto the back of the chair she made a few steps to stand closer to him.

Having never seen him drunk, she started to wonder if he always looked so miserable at parties. But those thoughts quickly fled her mind as he pulled her into a kiss. Grabbing her by the waist he walked her back until her back touched the table and she was forced to drop her hands from his shoulders onto the table behind her to hold herself upright.

Sylvie wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or his bad mood that made him rougher than usual. Most nights they spent together he was gentle, treating her like porcelain, he was passionate but not lustful, almost loving. But there were a couple times when he acted as though he didn't care, not looking her in the eyes, avoiding her kisses, if she didn't know better she would have felt he was treating her like a whore.

She didn't know what it was, but today especially, something set her on edge. Perhaps it was the way he bit her lip, almost drawing blood, or simply the way his hands dug into her skin, as though he wanted to hurt her.

And then he stopped, and let her go. Their eyes locked as he seemed to look for something. Whatever it was - he didn't find it. Something akin to pain flashed in his eyes before being replaced with hunger, and before she could even form any coherent thoughts, he had her facing the table.

"Athos…" she whispers, starting to consider that she should have let him sleep, because knowing him, he will regret this when he wakes up tomorrow.

But he continues with the silence as his hands find the lacing of her corset while his lips settle at her neck. He is careful just enough so that her dress remains intact, but her skin is a different story.

It feels good. But when he sees his fingerprints on her hips in the morning he will not feel good.

It becomes hard to think clearly when his mouth reaches her jaw, and Sylvie decides she's overthinking. Athos is a grown man, she is a grown woman, they can have fun, and deal with the consequences later, together.

Once her corset is off she tries to turn back around, but he has her pinned to the table. His hands roam over her body and she feels annoyed not being able to do the same, but she lets him continue. He steps back once to untie his trousers, but then his weight is back there, holding her in place.

He seems strictly focused on her neck, which she finds weird but not unpleasant. Even when her dress is fully off, pooled at her feet, he only cares about her neck.

"You know there are more parts to me than just my neck?" she asks jokingly, but hoping it will serve as a hint that it's time to move on.

He raises his head away from her, and she thinks he's done. She tries to turn again, but this time is no different. His hand runs up her arm and sets at her shoulder before he gently wraps it around her neck, his other hand slowly lifting up and running his fingers over her jawline.

Her brain stops working. She is not sure what to do - not sure what he will allow her to do.

Leaning even more onto her smaller frame, Athos sets his chin over her head. He lets out a heavy breath, and for some reason it sounds like "Anne".

It takes her a moment to realize he whispered another woman's name while holding her neck, while engaging in intimacy. He continues holding her close, and even though his hands aren't squeezing her neck, she feels uneasy. As her brain gets back to work she realizes just how bad the situation is.

Her instincts seem to kick in as she pushes Athos away.

His hands fall away from her neck, and she sees his eyes open up as a look of confusion settles on his face. Sylvie isn't sure what's worse, the fact he grabbed her neck or that he said some woman's name.

"You called me 'Anne'." she hisses at him. She feels offended by it, she feels betrayed.

For a second he doesn't understand what she is saying, but then his eyes seem to clear up as he takes a step back. He runs his hands over his face, "I'm sorry."

He takes a few more steps back and sits down on the bed.

Sylvie narrows her eyes at him, "Is that all you can say?" Shaking her head she looks around, thinking of how her life could have come to this. "Who was she?"

Athos drops his head into his hands, and his silence feels like an even bigger betrayal.

"Who is Anne?!" she yells at him this time. And to his credit he seems to sober up. His eyes darken as his jaw clenches, clearly considering what he should say and do next.

He huffs quietly and turns his face away from her.

"My wife."

He whispers so softly she could think she misheard it, but his detached expression tells her everything.

She has spent the last couple of months building a relationship with a married man.

Sylvie doesn't waste time and starts getting dressed. Athos sits with his head in his hands, still drunk, still confused - he must be confused, otherwise he would have been begging her not to tell his wife. This thought makes her think about his wife. Who is she? Does she know? Is she even alive? Why did his friends not warn her about it?

She doesn't cry, she is too shocked, and too confused. She was not religious, but for this she would beg God for forgiveness.

When she is done lacing her corset and starts pulling her cloak on, he finally lifts his head.

"You don't have to go." he tells her quietly, avoiding eye contact.

He must be really drunk, she thinks and huffs loudly at his request. "If you have no respect for your wife then at least have some for me." she says in disbelief.

"She knows. She doesn't care." he whispers, almost pleadingly.

Sylvie just shakes her head. "Well I care."

He stands up finally looking her in the eyes. "You don't understand. She and I are not together, have not been for years. She does not love me."

Sylvie makes her way to the door ignoring his words. She had no intention of being someone's mistress. She had never imagined she would end up in a situation like this, especially not with a man like Athos. Or at least a man like the one she believed Athos to be.

He grabs her arm as she grabs the door handle.

"I do not love her." he whispers, and it sounds like he's just trying to convince himself. His tone is serious, as she imagines is his gaze, but she doesn't wish to look at him.

But she turns around and asks: "Then why were you thinking of her?!" She isn't actually interested in knowing, she doesn't care whether he does or not, she just wants him to answer that question for himself.

He lets her arm fall, clearly considering her words. But she doesn't wait for him to find an answer, she leaves. She doesn't even address the issue of him grabbing her neck, something tells her it has something to do with his wife.

Sylvie runs away. For the first time in a while she runs away from her problems. She is not sure what to think of Athos, of what transpired tonight. She doesn't even run home - she goes to her friend, because she does not want Athos to find her. She asks herself whether he will even remember; she hopes he will. She knows he will try to apologize, but she doesn't want to hear it.

She wants him gone from her life.

And later she will wonder about his wife, she will wonder about what happened between them to make Athos like this, she will wonder how she would have kept on seeing Athos never knowing about the man he truly is.

But Athos would forever remain a mystery to her. A dream turned into a nightmare - a lesson learned.