#anne de winter

[allie-reeves]

They consume my soul

@starrynight Pinterest

[allie-reeves]

Milathos and Sylvie

S1-2 he is struggling with chosing his duty and honour over Anne, the pain almost kills him, emotional turmoil.

S3 easily chose everything over her making his previous emotional struggles meaningless and make us questioning her importance in his life, because it seems like he doesn't care for her, she is the one always being cast aside like she doesn't matter.

He lies to Silvie by not telling her about being a Comte, his wife, his alcohol problems, basically cheats on her with Anne ( kiss in his office).

He was so angry with her in S1-2 for not telling him about her past, now he does the same but it's much worse because he keeps more serious things away from Sylvie than just being a thief. Sylvie deserves better.

S3 turned him into a freaking hypocrite. Complete character regression.

Conclusion: f*ck S3, it doesn't exists, both of these women deserved better. So did he. They deserved a better arc.

[allie-reeves]

Chemistry? Give me a new word!!!

[allie-reeves]

Queens

[allie-reeves]

[allie-reeves]

When Athos says to the hell with the law all I hear is this

Now you can be a better man for your brand-new girl

Well, good for you, I guess you're gettin' everything you want

You bought a new car and your career's really takin' off

It's like we never even happened, baby, what the fuck is up with that?

And good for you, it's like you never even met me

Remember when you swore to God I was the only

Person who ever got you? Well, screw that and screw you

You will never have to hurt the way you know that I do

It's like she always comes second place, everything is above her for him, his duty, new love... It makes me question if he actually cared for her and I know he did that's why the last season doesn't make any sense.

You know my song already: Anne deserved better and S3 who? I don't know her or my blood pressure gets high.

[philomathic-sophia-blog]

Fanfic!  Athos & Anne de Winter

Erm, I kind of accidentally wrote a short fanfic yesterday. It's the reconciliation of the Comte et Comtesse de la Fère!

(It’s below the “Keep reading” link so that people who avoid fanfics that might mess with their headcanons don’t accidentally see something they don’t want to see.)

It’s set sometime after their encounter in 2.02 but not at any specific time. Please note that I wrote it after watching the first three episodes of Season 2, but before 2.04 was broadcast, and I have not watched any trailers or seen any significant plot spoilers. I don’t know how it will comport with what the series creators have in store for them in the rest of Season 2, much less Season 3.

I’m sure it’s neither the first nor the last fanfic on this subject, but I hope you enjoy it.

“Just tell me: was any of it real? Was any of it real?”

The words were wrenched from him, and Anne gaped at him in shock. She couldn’t remember the last time he had raised his voice. Was this it—was he finally acknowledging his feelings? Was he finally saying now what he should have said to her six years ago, instead of shutting down and turning in on himself?

She said nothing. What was there to say, after all this time?

“Yes, you can give me that hurt-puppy look, but how do I know it’s not an act? How do I know it wasn’t all an act—all of it?”

For a long moment they stared at each other, the distance across the room mirroring the gulf of years and misunderstandings between them. Finally she looked down. “If you can ask that, then I suppose you never knew me at all.”

“That’s just it! I don’t know if I did! I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. I can live with having been a fool then. I won’t be a fool now!”

“Olivier, please—”

He looked at her expectantly, but she could not find the words.

He raised his hand in a gesture of exasperation, letting it fall again. “I want to hear you say it. I want you to say that it was real. But even if you do, how can I trust you? How can I believe a word you say?”

“I never lied to you—”

“Our whole life was a lie!” He turned and started for the door.

“No! Not that! I didn’t tell you who I really was, I admit that, but that’s all!”

He had stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Then there’s Thomas.”

“Don’t you dare turn righteous on me!” she snapped, finally goaded out of her hurt. “You tried to kill me! Your beloved wife! Twice!”

“I said, I was a fool then. But you survived,” he said quietly, rubbing his eyes wearily. “And the second time, I didn’t even try.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful for that?” she said scornfully. “I have always done whatever I needed to do to survive.”

“I have had some experience with survival these last years. You may find me more sympathetic now than I was then.”

“I don’t want your sympathy!”

“What, then?” he asked, turning to face her again. “What is it you want from me?”

She returned his gaze levelly. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ve told you that already. I want to know whether any of it was real. I want to know why you killed my little brother. I want you to stop playacting, stop trying to manipulate me, and stand there and tell me the truth. Leave out the excuses. Just give me the naked, unvarnished truth.”

Still she said nothing. How could she explain?

“Oh, Olivier—” she finally said helplessly.

“Did you ever love me?” he whispered.

“I was afraid!” She covered her face with her hands. “Don’t you understand? I was afraid!”

“Of me?” he asked gently.

She looked up at that, incredulous. “No! Of course not!”

“What, then?”

Still she said nothing.

“What were you afraid of, Anne?” he asked, his voice still gentle.

“Of losing you!” the words burst from her, almost involuntarily.

After a moment, he said: “And so your worst fear came true. You lost me. And then?”

“Then?” she repeated, puzzled.

“What are you afraid of now?”

Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes and she turned away so that he couldn’t see them. She would not use tears against him. But he didn’t move towards her.

“Anne!” he said somewhat sharply. “What are you afraid of now?”

“Of loving you again! Of losing you again!”

There was only silence behind her. She turned, but he was just standing there, looking at her. “Are you made of stone?” she shouted. “Say something! Feel something!”

“Oh, I am feeling something.”

Only then did she see that his cheeks were wet.

“What?” she whispered. “What are you feeling?”

“That we are at last getting to the truth. That you aren’t playacting anymore.”

“I didn’t ask what you were thinking, you imbecile! I asked what you are feeling!” He gave one of his little half-smirks, and she felt like he had punched her in the gut. “Don’t you dare make fun of me!”

“I’m not making fun,” he said quietly. “Oh, Anne!” He reached towards her, and took a step.

“Don’t!” she begged, her voice coming out a ragged whisper. “Don’t touch me unless you mean it!”

He stopped, and then he said something entirely unexpected: “Can you ever forgive me?”

“What?” she choked.

“Can you ever forgive me?” he repeated. “For trying to kill you.”

“For trying to kill me,” she echoed stupidly.

“Yes. It was the ultimate betrayal. But you betrayed me too, when you didn’t tell me who you really were, or about your past. And when you killed Thomas. And when you burned my house down and tried to slit my throat. And when you asked d’Artagnan to kill me. And there are probably several other times that I don’t even know about. Don’t you think we’re even now?”

She said nothing, breathing hard, and turned her face away. He stepped slowly towards her.

“When you thought I was dead, was your revenge satisfied? No. You told me that the world seemed diminished. Well, when I thought you were dead, the world was greatly diminished. For five years, Anne, not for a couple of days. I grieved for you, every day of those five years, and never forgave myself. And when you came back, I couldn’t breathe. I thought that the only way I could not betray my duty and my brother and my noble blood was to finish what I’d started, to execute you myself. It was not until you were kneeling before me with my sword at your throat that I realized that I didn’t want to do it, and didn’t have to do it.”

Her face still averted, she was startled when he took her hands, and she realized that he was kneeling before her.

“So I am asking you: can you forgive me?”

She stared down at him, unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to move. Finally she whispered: “I blamed you for everything. But is was all my fault. All my fault!”

“Shhh, no. I blamed myself too. But the fault belongs to both of us. Can we forgive each other?” He kissed first one hand, and then the other, and then held them in front of his face, closing his eyes and bowing his head. “Oh, Anne, I have missed you so much. Every day. Every single day. I tried to forget you. I tried to despise you. I couldn’t. I can’t. But I’ve let go of the anger and the blame. Really, I have. Can’t you forgive me, at least a little?”

She reached for him then, drawing his head to her and rocking back and forth a little, much as she had on the floor of her burning boudoir back at Château la Fère. Then she drew back, lifting his chin and holding his face in her hands, and looked down into his eyes for a long moment. “Oh, Olivier,” she said, with a small, sad smile, and sank slowly to her knees, until she was looking up at him instead of down.

“Please forgive me, Anne,” he whispered.

“My baptismal name is Charlotte. No more playacting.”

“Charlotte,” he breathed.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I forgive you. Let us forgive each other. And ourselves too.”

They went up like straw.

[philomathic-sophia-blog]

Athos and Thomas de la Fère

Did Athos hate his little brother?

No.

In my opinion, this is a misconception based on Athos’s description:

“Thomas, my younger brother. Everyone’s favorite. He’s dead.”

I think that this is a case of reading too much into Athos’s economy of words and his lacunae. And also perhaps also reading too much into the fact that none of his memories of la Fère include Thomas, only Anne. But if you were writing/shooting this episode, what would you cut out of what was filmed to show Thomas flashbacks? This is simply practical. It’s not like a book where if you want to add more stuff, you just keep writing. There is a set length and you have to stick to it. (BBCA cuts a further fifteen minutes out of every episode for repeat airings to allow commercials and keep it to an hour. Fifteen minutes. You wouldn’t believe what they cut. It’s criminal.)

If Athos had hated Thomas, why would Anne have needed to get rid of him, much less to kill him? How is he a threat to her happiness or security if Athos already hates him? What’s to be jealous of? Even if she’d wanted to get rid of him because she was afraid that Athos might someday stop hating him, she could have simply made up a story to manipulate Athos into evicting him or disowning him. This is what she does in the novel: she manipulates others into doing her dirty work for her whenever she can.

The only reason for her to kill Thomas that makes sense is the reason she gives Athos when she burns Château la Fère: because he would have believed Thomas over her. Why would he have done that if he had hated Thomas and loved her? And if she had killed him for the same cold-blooded reason—inheritance—that she killed Lord Sheffield in the novel, why didn’t Athos accuse her of that in the burning château?