Work Text:
(Athos)
A lively melody played from the corner of the dance hall. This one he knew very well - the gaillarde. The crowd of nobles is joyful, oblivious to everything happening just outside the walls of the palace, and everything happening at the border with Spain. Champagne was being passed around, and this is the only thing Athos does not complain about. It makes everything else just a little bit more bearable. Champagne and Treville’s presence.
Had Treville not asked him to come along, he’d never on his own free will step into this ballroom, smelling of expensive perfume, sweat, and alcohol. Everyone laughed, and danced, and drank, and enjoyed themselves, while he was stuck being miserable. Every little thing reminded him of his old life as the Comte de la Fere, and more importantly, the aspect of that life that he hated most: socializing with pompous and greedy nobles.
Back when he was young, every man who knew his name, who had a daughter of marriageable age would come by to try and sell that daughter to him, and every woman who knew his name would come by and try to sell herself. And perhaps a few found him attractive, but he was sure his title was way more attractive than he could ever be.
He had to talk with these people, and they all had to pretend they actually enjoyed each other’s company.
Now as he stood by the First Minister’s side, not far from where the Queen sat, he at least had the privilege of not having to smile. But some ladies of nobility still sent glances his way, and some lesser nobles still came by to offer their second or third daughters. He was the Captain of the Musketeers now after all.
Treville had asked him to join him, and knowing the man hated these events almost as much as he did, he couldn’t say no, knowing that at least together they had a fair chance of getting through the night more or less sober and sane. Treville had allowed himself two glasses of champagne so far, and Athos was already finishing his fourth.
The worst part was watching Milady glide through the crowd, flirting with these honorless nobles, as she attempted to find out which ones had any liaisons with the Spanish. Had she not been tasked by Treville to do so he would have left long ago.
On one hand it was marvelous to look at, the way she fooled them all, the way they all assumed she was innocently asking them questions out of sheer curiosity, and the way they were all prepared to give up their secrets to gain a dance with her. On the other hand it was torture. Watching her laugh along, as their hands traced those parts of her body that they had no right to touch, knowing he had no right to say anything, for she was working for the good of France, and she was as skilled in this art as he was with avoiding questions.
Speaking of questions, there was Sylvie, no doubt waiting for him at the Garrison, who always had questions for him. He knew she was interested. As was he, to some extent. That extent ended every time he saw Milady, which nowadays seemed to be a common occurrence. Treville seemed to enjoy making them work together, which Athos supposed was due to how well they actually functioned side by side, despite everything.
Milady was seen at the Garrison at least once a week, most often in his office, and at least once a week they were called into a meeting in Treville’s office. Which made him hesitate more than he thought he would about being with Sylvie.
Sylvie was kind, pretty, gentle, and always at the Garrison, for she was now a friend of Constance and Elodie. They had dined together three times, and the other four times she asked he had refused, politely finding an excuse, knowing he just wanted to spend the night alone wallowing in self hate and self pity as he looked at Milady’s glove. He wondered sometimes if Sylvie, being as smart as she was, had already figured out he was lying and kept asking him just to be polite.
D’Artagnan had kindly told him that Sylvie was exactly what he needed, and he would have been right had Athos not been so in love with his wife, which was a truth Athos was not ready to admit to anyone but himself. And to make things worse he understood why D’Artagnan thought so, he finally had the opportunity to have a normal relationship with a woman who liked him, and perhaps even start a family, and he could not deny that it was what he wanted.
But he also wanted Milady.
And ever since he kissed her in his office, no more than two months ago, he couldn’t get her out of his head now that his head was no longer filled with thoughts of how to get the Musketeer regiment to survive the war.
Watching her with other men was by no means helping him. But the champagne was. He emptied his latest glass and took another from a servant who was walking by, while pretending he didn’t see Treville’s side glance.
“You know you don’t have to stand here all night?” his mentor asked him, no doubt starting to get worried about his drinking.
Athos didn’t bother turning his head, having no desire to see the man’s unapproving look, and replied “I was convinced I was here to keep you company.”
Treville turned his head. “I will not be standing here all night either, there are those I have to speak with, and be seen doing so.” He sounded exasperated, but also as though he was trying to convince Athos to go fraternize with the guests of this royal soiree.
“Had I known my presence was stopping you from your duties,” he said as he turned to face Treville. “I’d have occupied myself otherwise.”
He knew it was not what his mentor meant, but he didn’t understand what he was hinting at either. Treville glared at him. “There is no need to put words in my mouth. And does it really matter if you drink here or in your drab apartment?”
Athos rolled his eyes, knowing Treville was right, and asked, “Then what is it you presume I could busy myself with here?”
The First Minister of France let out a heavy breath and turned towards the dancing crowd, forcing Athos look in that direction as well. Immediately leading him to spotting Anne amongst the no doubt drunk nobles.
“You could dance,” he said, and before Athos had the time to glare at him he continued. “For I know you can dance as well as any other guest.” Which wasn’t necessarily saying much of his skills.
“If you wish to see me shame myself publicly you could simply have one of the servants give me a bottle of wine all to myself.” Athos replied, wondering if Treville had planned this all along, or the champagne was simply getting to his head already.
The last time he had danced, he had danced with Milady, back when Milady did not yet exist, and she was simply his wife, Anne, and he was still Olivier. He had no desire to dance with anyone, knowing they would never compare to his wife, and he would just be left with another fantasy that would no doubt haunt him anytime a drop of wine touched his lips.
Treville stepped closer to him and lowered his voice. “There is someone who I imagine would like to dance with you.”
Athos glared at no one in particular, trying to look away from Milady’s latest victim and the way his hand was way too low for it to be proper. “If you mean Comte de Troyes’ oldest daughter, then I imagine you are right, but I will not.” The young lady, of no more than twenty five, had walked past him enough times tonight, and even took the time to greet him. He almost started wondering if perhaps some women could just smell the fact that he was not as lowborn as he was trying to make himself seem.
“I meant Milady.” Treville said. Calmly. Too calmly considering whose name he just uttered.
Athos wasn’t sure what to say to that. His gaze was stuck on his wife’s body, and her dark green dress, that made her eyes look almost as bright as the jewels on her neck. The gold embroidery on her corset would sometimes catch the light, and he could almost pretend this was just a dream, and he wasn’t actually being forced to watch her seduce other men.
“As though dancing itself wasn’t embarrassing enough…” He half whispered as he swallowed the champagne in his glass and wished it was brandy.
Treville shook his head and said in return, “She has been looking at you ever since you stepped foot in this hall. And you’ve been looking at her.” He then tilted his head and added, “And inconspicuousness is not your forte when it comes to her.”
Wasn’t that great? First D’Artagnan corners him about Sylvie, now Treville decided to talk to him about his wife. He decided he really needed brandy.
“I am currently courting Sylvie,” he said, hoping it would stop his mentor from continuing this rhetoric. “I believe it would be unfair to her.”
“If anyone is courting anyone, it is Sylvie who is courting you. Because I am aware that all rendez-vous have been initiated by her insistence.” Treville wasn’t looking at him, but Athos was sure he was being judged. And perhaps with good reason, because it was true - he had never taken any initiative in that regard.
The First Minister assumed that his dwindled interest in Sylvie meant he was interested in Milady, which was true, but could he not assume that Athos was simply uninterested in everyone? The moment that thought went through his mind he realized how ridiculous it sounded for a man like him, who was incapable of moving past a woman who tried to murder him numerous times.
“She is working. It would not do well to distract her.” Athos said, trying to rationalize his reluctance to dance past his general dislike of dancing.
The man by his side only glanced at him with something akin to pity flashing through his eyes, and told him, “She will not be working all night either.” Reminding him of his earlier words about not standing here in one place all night.
“I am the Captain of the Musketeers. Everyone would question it.” He was hoping Treville would agree with him and tell him he shouldn’t dance with Milady after all. But he knew it was an empty line of reasoning and an empty hope.
Treville only huffed. “An unmarried man decided to dance once with an unmarried woman, who has already danced with a dozen of other men, the horror. Truly Athos, you’re not convincing me, and definitely not yourself.”
With those words he walked off towards some older Baron who was standing amongst some generals of the French army, perhaps some old friend, or perhaps one of those people he simply had to converse with for the sake of his position at court.
Athos was left alone, looking at Anne as she twirled around to the music, smiling and laughing, and he started asking himself at what point she would switch between work and pleasure. Perhaps she already has… And that though hurt, knowing there was a possibility she was enjoying herself in the company of these fools.
He knew Treville wasn’t wrong. No one would question one dance, he wasn’t particularly interested in Sylvie, and he knew how to dance well enough. What Treville didn’t think of, however, was what would happen after.
There was always the possibility that she would turn him away.
Then of course the slightest chance that after one dance they would part ways amicably.
A much more probable possibility that he would go home still thinking of her.
And the most likely turn of events: he wouldn’t be able to let her go after one dance.
What the night would look like for him then was something he didn’t even want to think of, knowing he had drunk way too much for his mind to picture realistic scenarios.
But he realised that he did want to dance with her.
In the back of his mind he was glad he had chosen to wear black today instead of his usual blue uniform, for like this he and his wife would look more matching together, and he wanted them to look like a couple, despite knowing no one would ever find out they are actually husband and wife.
Athos didn’t have much time to think about what he was wearing because he realized his feet were already taking him towards the crowd, and all he could think about was Anne, and how he would finally have the chance to hold her in his arms, in public no less.
He was thinking about the way her eyes glistened under the candle light, and how warm and soft her skin was, and how her curves would press onto his own body, and his treacherous mind was reminding him of everything that was hidden under that dress. It was a dangerous line of thought, that without doubt would only lead to more lonely sleepless nights, considering he hadn’t even asked her to dance yet.
Anne was standing by the side of some young comte, who no doubt recently inherited his title, and was here to celebrate his new found position and riches. It was after all what most young nobles did in Paris.
He noticed the gloves she wore at the start of the soiree were gone and a few strands of her hair were hanging lower than before, but she was still more beautiful than any other woman in that room, prettier than the Queen herself, which was something he would never admit to Aramis. Athos mentally thanked Treville for the suggestion, because he had been too busy watching Milady to realise she was looking at him as well.
The idea of dancing with his wife was starting to sound better with every step he took towards Anne, and he decided to ignore his previous reservations about potential consequences of such a risqué endeavor. He then forgot all about Treville, and Sylvie, when her eyes met his. For a second she seemed confused, but she regained her composure and excused herself from the young man by her side. The noble man looked shocked at her rushed exit, but she ignored him, and headed towards Athos.
He wasn’t sure anymore of what he was doing. Seeing her so close, knowing this was not related to their respective lines of work, picturing how she would stand in his arms; he couldn’t resist a small smile. Something that must have surprised her, for she narrowed her eyes as she stopped in front of him.
They stood near one of the corners, where there were less guests, as they all crowded around those who danced. Athos took her hand lightly, and brought it to his lips. She looked surprised but kept quiet.
When he dropped her hand, she stepped closer to him and leaned slightly in before whispering “What happened?”
Athos knew she would ask that. He would have done the same had she approached him. For what reason would he have to approach her, unless Treville ordered him to do so? And in some way Treville did order him. He made a suggestion, knowing Athos would do it.
“Treville said I shouldn’t stand there all night,” he whispered back, making Anne look up at him. “He said I should dance.”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “So you want to dance with me?”
Athos took one of her hands again and looked away, finding it hard to say the words he wanted to say while looking at her. “You are the only woman I want to dance with. And I would be honored if you would grant me the next dance.”
For a few moments neither of them moved or said anything. Anne rubbed her thumb against his hand, seemingly out of habit, or perhaps out of a need to do something while she thought of an answer. Then she gently placed her other hand on his cheek and forced him to look at her.
“Had I known you wanted to dance, I would have offered long ago. I kept looking at you hoping you would come over.” She said it softly, but there was something in her voice that made him think he somehow offended her.
Athos tried to keep his hands still, knowing if he put his hands on Anne here, he would never hear the end of it, for the simple reason that it would be improper, and also because she was his wife who he has been separated from for years, if anything he told his friends was to be believed.
He leaned in a little just so that he could whisper his next words, “Treville kindly pointed that out.” And watched as Anne rolled her eyes in response.
“I thought you were now with Sylvie,” she looked at the ground and whispered back. “That is what you said the last time, before pushing me, and then running away.” Anne bit her lower lip after the last part and seemed to stiffen by his side.
“She is interested, yes, but I have not been reciprocal in those advances. I’ve made no vows.” He wanted her to look at him, but he dared not move. He still held her hand in his, and suddenly he started thinking the possibility of her turning him away wasn’t as slight as he initially believed.
Anne only huffed quietly at his words. “Yes, her interest has been painfully clear.” And for someone who was so skilled at hiding their true feelings, those words were filled with something Athos did not expect - jealousy.
“I wasn’t aware another woman’s interest would deter you.” He wasn’t sure if she would take it as a joke or an insult, but he hoped it was not the latter, however used to his insults she must be by now.
She tried to slap his chest with her free hand, but some couple walked by at that exact moment, so she was forced to pretend she just wanted to put her palm over his heart. Athos avoided looking back to where Treville was, knowing the man had told him to go dance with her, not to stand and embrace.
He found that he didn’t care much, and instead of stepping back, he let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her body, placing his hand over her hip. Less than proper for two unmarried people, but since they were married, Athos decided he would deal with the rumors and whatever else later.
“Why now?” she asked him. “You could have told me this any other day, in any other place.”
He wasn’t sure why, aside from the fact that Treville pushed him towards this. He was rather asking himself why not earlier. “I don’t know that. But what I do know is that I love you.”
Athos hadn’t meant to say it, especially not while they were surrounded by dozens of people, many of whom were no doubt trying to listen in on any seemingly interesting conversation. But he meant it, and he didn’t know how else to reply to her question.
Pulling her closer, and placing his other hand around her waist he waited for her to speak. Athos knew she still loved him, though he would never presume to tell her that straight to her face.
“Well, I love you as well.” she whispered back and finally looked up at him. She looked unsure but neither did she look sad or angry, which was good enough for him. Her other hand was also placed on his chest and she seemed to relax a little in his hands.
He looked at those who were dancing and then back at her. “Perhaps you will dance with me?” he asked her, not wanting to let her go yet. He was trying to focus on her face, and not the fact that she was too close to him to keep his thoughts respectable. Ever since he kissed her in his office, all he could think about is getting another kiss. He craved her touch, and having her in his arms made him want it even more.
Anne also looked around the room. “Do you really want to dance?” she asked, something playful in her tone. He wasn’t sure what she wanted, but he was sure that she was about to do something, something he could potentially regret later.
She moved her hands slightly higher to his shoulders, and he felt her nails dig into his skin through his doublet, and he felt his blood boil under his skin. Her lips parted slightly as she leaned in closer, almost too close to keep his composure. He knew what she wanted.
“You seem to have a better idea.” he whispered into her ear, almost forgetting they were still in the corner of the dance hall of the palace, and that amongst the crowd there was Treville, and the Queen, and ….
And he forgot to care.
Anne was in his arms, and that was all that mattered.
“Forget all about dancing,” she whispered, her lips no more than an inch away from his. “We can take this elsewhere.” She stepped away letting him grab her arm, almost violently, somehow knowing what he was about to do. He should have at least held her hand, or tried to slow down, but couldn’t bring his mind to concentrate on anything that wasn’t his wife, as he practically dragged her out of the hall.
Athos wasn’t sure what room they ended up in, despite knowing the palace like the back of his hand. It was dark, and even had there been light he wouldn’t bother pulling away from Anne to look around.
He had her pressed against a wall, and she was on her toes trying to wrap her arm around his neck, while he was trying to stop himself from messing up her hair too much, but getting distracted by the way she kept biting his lip. Not hard enough to draw blood but painful enough for him to want more.
Biting back at her lips in return, he heard a sinful moan fall from her lips, which is the only way he could rationalize why he forcefully grabbed her chin and slammed her head against the wall, hard enough that he could see a flicker of hate in her eyes.
“Quiet,” he whispered against her lips. “At least for now.” Knowing soon, neither would be able to remain quiet.
Later Athos couldn’t remember at what point in time he finally let her go that night. He remembers having her against the wall, and how her nails left his back a mess of red lines, and how he left her neck a collection of red marks, that would turn blue by the time the sun rose tomorrow. He still feels a ghost of her touch on his shoulders and chest, and he doubts her legs have stopped shaking by the time they stand in front of a mirror, trying to look presentable enough to leave the palace without unwanted attention.
Her choker only covers a third of her neck, and he doesn’t think there is anything either of them could do with their hair to make it look like they haven’t just been either attacked or rolling around on a random velvet carpet in the middle of the palace.
Athos feels his hands twitch every time he looks at her, even though he knows they are not done for the night, and wonders how he’d stayed away for so long. He stands far enough to keep all temptations at bay, something Milady seems to disregard completely as she keeps tracing her fingers over his arms and shoulders.
They don’t speak, and for the first time in years it is because there is nothing more to say. At least for the moment. They have said they love each other, and for tonight that is enough. Tomorrow it will be different; they will have to sort through everything sooner or later anyway and he doubts Anne will wait a long time before digging into their past.
He doesn’t want to think about what will happen tomorrow, so instead he tries to focus on the job they have at hand. Getting out of the palace, without being noticed. Which at first seems simple enough considering how many times they have done something similar, but he doesn’t trust his love and lust filled mind to think logically.
Anne seems more sure of herself as she leads them through small hidden pathways, holding his hand to make sure they don’t get lost in the dark. She knows those corridors well, and doesn’t bother slowing down.
At least until they don’t enter the stables and realize Treville is standing in front of them.
Athos wonders if he knew they would be there or if he was simply there to get his horse, and this was pure luck. The First minister doesn’t look angry, but Athos doubts the tiredness is only due to having to socialize with uppity nobles.
“I told you to dance,” Treville says. “I made it clear that one dance would in no way damage either of your reputations.” He glares at them both, and they both keep their mouths shut knowing he was right.
Anne was the first to speak. “Did her majesty say anything?” She looks innocently at Treville, having regained her composure.
“Your absence was noted, but its reason currently remains unknown. Keep it that way.” The minister looks annoyed, but anger seems more prominent in his eyes as he glares at her. He then turns to Athos. “Your absence will have to be explained however.”
Athos doesn’t let go of Anne’s hand, as he says, “I will offer my sincere apologies to her majesty tomorrow.”
“Yes, do so. And come up with an explanation for why you two decided to get all handsy in the middle of a Royal party.” Treville didn’t wait for a reply before walking away rubbing his forehead, no doubt imagining all the worst possible scenarios for those ‘apologies’ Athos would have to offer the next day.
Anne turns to Athos and smirks, “We weren’t exactly in the middle were we? I thought we were in the corner.”
He glares at her for a second but then his eyes soften. “Let’s not forget what we came here for,” he says as he turns towards the horses.
She only huffs and pulls them towards one of the carriages instead. Athos tries not to roll his eyes, as he helps her get inside and then follows her. As he closes the door he doesn’t stop himself from smiling.
Apparently they’re not waiting until they get to her apartment anymore.