The Female Musketeer

Chapter 47 | J'aime Te Détester

"You are joking, are you not?"

I shake my head. I take a seat on the other end of the Sofa. We sit in silence for a few minutes.

"Where will you go?" He asks softly.

"I don't know."

"And Charles?"

"I love my big brother, but he's figuring out his life here. He loves Paris. He'll be just fine without me."

"Right, of course."

I stand.

"I'm going to send off a message to the Garrison for Aramis and Porthos. Then fetch some fire wood. We'll camp here and then head home in the morning. Give your leg some time to rest."

He just nods absent minded.

Later...

I have a fire going. Athos has been semi stoic and sipping on what's left in his flask. We haven't spoke since earlier.

I roast some meat and vegetables I'd purchased from town.

When I'm finished, I hand him his food and sit on a chair on the other side of the room. We eat in silence and  it stays that way for another hour.

As time ticks on, the quite cosumes my mind.

"Enough of this!" I storm over to him.

"Why are you here? Who was that woman? Why have you kept all of this to yourself?" I rub my aching temple and turn away from him. "Why did you have to kiss me?" Is the finally question, but this one I mumble.

I turn back to him.

"Please, sit Daria." He moves his leg down from the sofa.

I plop onto the spot beside him. The room grows darker as the sun sets outside.

He turns his body towards mine, though he stilll doesn't meet my eyes.

"Yesterday, before I came to see you. I received a letter."

He pauses, rubbing his head.

"Who sent you the letter?"

His eyebrows knit together, he's practically shaking when he speaks "My dead wife."

"What?"

"A few years ago, before The Musketeers, before I left this house. I was Married. Her name was Anne. That's the name she lived by at the time anyways. Milady de Winter is what she goes by now. She was beautiful, adventurous and strong. We got married quickly, and endulged ourselves in marital bliss. We were so in love, I didn't realize just how little I knew of her. One day, while we were walking, she fell and cut her ankle. I tried to help her but she pushed me away, but I saw what she was trying to hide. She was branded with the fleur-de-lis. I was angry. She tried to explain but I wouldn't hear it. I was mad at her for not disclosing it before we wed. But more so I was conflicted, I had always been a law abiding man. I left the house for a few days, needing to clear my head, to decide what to do. When I returned, I was informed Anne was being held in the basement cellar. She had killed my brother. My brother was my only other family besides Anne, and to think she took her anger out of him because of me? I was hardened. She pleaded to me, saying he had raped her. I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe her. So I did what was expected of me, the "right thing" to do. She was hung by the towns executioner the next day."

I don't say anything. I couldn't think of what would be a reasonable response.

He continues.

"I felt so guilty. I watched her walk to the tree from afar, but I couldn't bring myself to stay and watch, so I fled to Paris and drank my way through every Tavern I could find. I lost count of the days, just wanting to numb myself. One night I got into a brawl with a couple of men. I won, and then was approached by Captain Treville. He helped me sober up, and use my fighting skills to do good. Do better."