Alright, 4 times Athos and Milady encountered people who could have recognized them as Comte and Comtesse de la Fere, and the 1 time they were recognized.

All these happen while Milady is the king's mistress.

Painter - painting King and Queen

Smith - Sword

Jeweler - necklace

Priest - from Pinon

Maid - Milady's new/old maid

Those consist of people that could have recognized either Athos or Milady, and the two of them saving each other from being recognized and discovered. They are all connected, and are all in a chronological order.

Question for fellow writers:

So I realized that writing the emotions of Athos and Milady is much easier than the other musketeers, probably because there were quite a few flashbacks that show their past. Maybe it's because their emotions are more developed and revealed more in the show, but idk. Just wanna know if anyone else has this problem? And if yes, how do you deal with it?

Chapter 1

It has been years. Years since he made the decision to leave his life as Comte de la Fere and become a Musketeer. Even before he had never made many appearances in the King's court. Thomas has been the one who enjoyed balls and parties with other noblemen. He prefered staying at Pinon, where he didn't have to speak with false pleasantries. However he had attended some events as the Compte de la Fere as it had been his duty.

That had been the reason why when he had first visited the Louvre as a Musketeer he was afraid that some nobles might recognize him. He would push his hat lower to hide his eyes. Only later he realized that many didn't bother paying attention to guards and Musketeers. He realized that when some noblemen he had known when he was younger, some of whom had visited his family's estate many times, didn't recognize him as they walked right in front of him.

Upon that realization he had relaxed, and his fear of people finding out his past had subsided. He was no longer Olivier D'Athos, he was just another Musketeer that stood at the back of the room, looking out for potential danger, ready to protect the King and Queen.

Yet, when this particular visitor came to the Louvre, he looked down, letting his hair fall into his eyes, hoping he wouldn't be recognized.

This man was no simple nobleman. This man was an artist. A painter who had painted his portrait a few times. The first time when he was a young boy, once when he officially became the Comte de la Fere, and one time after his wedding.

Right after their wedding he decided that he wanted a portrait of her to hang on one of the walls at his estate, right beside his own and his brother's portraits, and later she convinced him that they should also have a portrait of the two of them together.

That particular painting didn't burn with the house because it was stored in a cellar below the ground, where the fire didn't reach. And that painting would forever be proof that he had once loved a woman.

All three portraits were done by the same artist, Jacques Bernard, who was now standing in front of the King.

Some painter wouldn't have bothered him much, but the man had said many times that his eyes were a beautiful blue color that were hard to paint, and that he would never forget how hard it was to paint his portrait. The man had also mentioned many times how beautiful his wife was, and how she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever had the pleasure to paint.

Of course Athos could hope that Jacques Bernard had forgotten the Comte and Comtesse de la Fere with his old age, but painters always had a good memory and unlike nobles they paid attention to their surroundings, including people, and details. And that meant that there were quite a few chances that he would recognize a man he painted thrice.

As he pushed his hat lower, he glanced at Aramis, Porthos, and D'Artagnan, who all noticed his unease, and his pitiful attempts to hide himself amongst them. They said nothing, but eyed him carefully with their eyes full of questions.

He turned back to the painter who was now turned away from him and speaking to the King. He had been invited to the palace to paint the King and Queen together with the Dauphin.

"Thank you, your Majesty, for allowing me to be the one to paint the Dauphin."

The King nodded, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. The King had no interest in what the man was saying, he clearly wanted this to be over so he could return to his bed with Milady de Winter.

The Queen however seemed eager somewhat to be painted with her son. That was until the King looked around the room, seemingly looking for something, and then back at Jacques.

"Yes, and after you paint my son, I would also like you to paint a woman. I believe her beauty should be remembered forever."

Those words soured the mood instantly of the Queen and most of the King's advisors. But they remained quiet.

Thinking of Milady, Athos realized that she would most likely be recognized. And if she was recognized then she would be banned from the palace. He doubted the King would be thrilled to have a married noblewoman as his mistress, especially that the said woman's husband was standing nearby every day.

He didn't particularly care about what would happen to Milady, at least that is what he kept repeating to himself. But he had promised himself that he would let her be free of himself. She seemed more or less happy at the palace. And as much as he hated seeing her beside the King, her happiness was the only proof that not everything was a lie and that there was a time she truly loved him.

Of course he shouldn't care about that. His wife was dead, his Anne was dead, just as the Comte de la Fere was gone. But a small part of himself that still clung to the past and to his love of Milady, enjoyed seeing her happy.

He could repeat it to himself as much as he liked, but he would always be pulled towards her by unknown forces. Even the wine couldn't stop the tug he felt towards her each time he saw her. If anything, the wine only worsened his desire to hold her close.

He shook his head slightly at his thoughts and looked around ensuring that no one noticed him getting lost in his thoughts.

Milady was the only one who could do this to him.

And once again thinking of Milady, he glanced at his friends and then left the room in a quiet manner to ensure no one noticed his absence.

He would warn her of what was happening here and of the King's desire to have her painted.

He made his way quickly through the palace all the way to her chambers. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea, but he rarely had good ideas when his wife was concerned. She had this effect on him. He could lose his mind in just a few quick seconds. Just like when she was giving her testament against Comtesse de Larroque, she had him screaming like a madman. Or when she stood on her knees in front of him, and he just couldn't kill her.

He looked around, and finding the halls empty he pushed her door open, while also taking his hat off.

She was standing in front of the large mirror tying the necklace in place, making sure it would cover the scar he had given her. She didn't bother turning around, simply looked up at him through the reflection of the mirror.

Her mood seemed to sour at his appearance.

"What are you doing here?"

He looked at her from head to toes, the beautiful orange and pink dress she was wearing, and then at her hands that were still busy with the ties of the necklace.

"Saving your life."

She raised her eyebrow and turned around to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

He let out a heavy breath.

"Jacques Bernard is here."

She tilted her head slightly and looked genuinely confused.

He rolled his eyes.

"The one who painted you after our wedding. Twice. Do you think he won't recognize you?"

She huffed slightly.

"Yes.. the one who said that I have a very long and beautiful neckā€¦"

She put her hand down, letting the necklace fall to the ground revealing the scar.

He clenched his jaw.

Here he was trying to save her from ruining her arrangements with the King. He was forced to stand in her rooms, just feet away from the bed where she no doubt slept with the King, more than once.

And she is forced to stand in front of the man that had her hanged.

Nothing about this situation was good. But there was no need to taunt him and remind of his past deeds. He had enough reminders in his sleep.

"Yes, that is the one. He might recognize either of us."

She turned away from him as she looked at the ground.

"Then I'll stay in my chambers while he is here. You may leave."

He shook his head. What a stubborn woman. Did she really not see that he was simply here to help her?

"The King wishes to have you painted. So that your beauty can grace the palace forever."

Her eyes widened slightly as she stopped breathing for a second.

She reached down to pick up the necklace as he took a step closer to her. When she stood up her eyes remained on the necklace.

They both remained quiet for a few moments. Just a peaceful quiet between them. The first peaceful moment between them for the first time in years.

"And what do you suppose I should do?"

She looked up at him, looking more vulnerable than just moments before, fearing that she might lose everything she has.

"I doubt the King would believe me if I told that it was my Twin sister."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Why not fake an illness?"

She snorted, and looked at him as though he was an idiot.

"And when the King sends a doctor, what shall I do then?"

He let out a heavy breath.

"Pay him to lie."

She shook her head.

"With what? The King gives me dresses, and jewelry, not money."

He closed his eyes as he ran his hand through his hair.

He had some coins with him. Coins he would later spend on wine at the Tavern near the Garrison after everyone else headed off to sleep.

If they recognize her, then they have more chances of recognizing him.

And even if there would barely be any consequences for him, he dearly wished his past to remain where it was. At Pinon, long forgotten.

Reluctantly he pulled out the pouch of coins he had on him.

"This should be enough."

She huffed and turned towards him with a vicious glare.

"I don't need your money."

He threw the pouch on the bed near where she sat.

"If they recognize you, all that you have will be gone. Take it. I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this for myself."

She continued glaring at him but took the money.

"This is the money you would have spent on a few bottles of wine. So don't tell me you're doing this for yourself."

He turned away to leave.

Despite what she thought, he was doing this for himself. He didn't wish to see her on the streets, stealing and murdering for coin. Seeing her with the King wasn't much better, but there was nothing he could do about it. Beautiful silk dresses suited her far better than killing and stealing.

Ever since he made her leave Paris, his desire to kill her has almost left him entirely, replaced with longing and jealousy. Though he would never admit those things to himself, maybe only if he was drunk.

Well tonight he wouldn't be drunk. Something that he didn't want, but something that would happen because of her. He didn't dread this sober night as much as he should, because he was doing this for her. And as much as he tried to stop himself from doing things for her, he couldn't. He couldn't stop himself from letting her go when he could have killed her. He couldn't stop himself from keeping quiet, when he could have told everyone of her crimes.

He stopped right at the door.

"Perhaps I wish to stop drinking."

She smirked.

"I know you too well to believe that."

No you don't. He wanted to say. She didn't know him as well as she thought if she believed that he was doing this out of pity.

He glanced quickly at her. She was once again standing by the mirror. Taking in her beautiful form one last time he left her chambers before he was tempted to stay for longer, and do something stupid.

Most likely she would have kicked him out, but sometimes he couldn't tell what she was about to do. And that fact is what kept him thinking of what would happen if he ever stayed for too long in her chambers.

Would she push him onto the bed? Would she kiss him? Or would she simply threaten him with her hidden dagger?

Or perhaps she would threaten him before pushing him against the wall and ripping his shirt open?

Anyway it didn't matter. Nothing could happen between them. Because if anything did happen, then he wouldn't be able to let her go. Not again.

Whatever Milady thought of his motives, it seemed she was smart enough to use his money, as just minutes after he returned to his post beside his friends, they were all informed that Milady de Winter was not feeling well.

The King was displeased, and his friends kept staring at him the entire day, silently asking him what the hell it was all about. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was that neither he, nor Milady were recognized by Jacques Bernard. And their lives continued as they were, a Musketeer and the King's Mistress.