Unlike Father Unlike Son

by elbcw

'What do you want' asked Athos, not taking his eyes off Aramis, who was being held on the ground. 'I want you to learn your place, you gave up your nobility, you're a fool,' said Victor. 'If you have an issue with me, why are you restraining my friend.' 'I want to discipline you, and receiving that punishment yourself would be beneath you, he gets to be your whipping boy.'

1. Chapter 1

Authors note: From an idea by Fleuramis.

Unlike Father, Unlike Son.

Chapter One

Delivering messages to nobles could be one of the duller duties the Musketeers performed. It was mundane but needed to be done. The messages often contained sensitive information or requests from the Palace. The Musketeers were not always party to the contents of the messages and frequently they were not interested. The task was to merely deliver the message, possibly wait for a reply and return to the Palace or garrison.

As Athos and Aramis approached the large house belonging to Victor Monette they slowed the horses. Monette owned a large amount of land including a large wooded area they had trotted through. Aramis had entertained Athos by pointing out the various plants that were used in the assortment of medical draughts he could concoct. Athos had chuckled when Aramis pointed out that Porthos still referred to the painkilling drinks as witchcraft, despite benefiting from them frequently.

It was a pleasant day, the weather perfect for a ride, not too hot that they ended up sweating, but not so cool they needed their capes.

'It's a shame d'Artagnan and Porthos got lumbered with protecting the King,' said Aramis as he took in the manicured garden which reached around the house.

'Lumbered,' said Athos, 'is not really an appropriate description for being given the duty of protecting our monarch.'

Aramis grinned in reply as Athos rolled his eyes.

They dismounted as a boy of about sixteen approached them.

'Are you here to see my father, the Comte?' he asked, reaching up to stroke Aramis' mare.

'Yes,' replied Athos.

'He won't be long, I'll take your horses to the stable if you like,' said the boy, taking the reins for both horses and leading them away without waiting for a response.

As he walked away the boy called back to the two musketeers, 'he's coming now,' and nodded across to his right.

Walking across the lawn was a well-dressed man in his forties. The Comte was with two men, one appeared to be a gardener who was speaking to the Comte, the other was in his early twenties wearing similar clothes to the Comte. As the three men got closer the Comte dismissed the gardener with a nod and a smile. The gardener tipped his hat and wandered off towards a bed of roses.

'Hello,' said the Comte reaching out his hand in greeting, he warmly shook hands with both Athos and Aramis, 'I'm Monette, do you have a message for me? I was hoping the King would respond quickly.'

'Yes Monsieur,' replied Athos, 'we have been asked to wait for your reply.'

Athos pulled the letter from his doublet and handed it to the Comte. As Monette took the letter he paused looking at Athos.

'You're the Comte de la Fere?' said Monette.

Athos could not find a response at first, he rarely used his title, and not at all since he had gifted his land to the villagers who lived there.

'I do not use the title Monsieur,' Athos said, feeling a little awkward.

'Oh, I heard what you did. I was impressed,' the Comte said with a friendly smile, 'defending your King and Country is a more noble thing.'

The younger man with the Comte shook his head and said with a sneer, 'you gave up your title to become a Musketeer.'

'Please ignore my son,' said the Comte trying to hide his embarrassment, 'Victor has become somewhat elitist since he spent the Summer with his Uncle in Paris.'

Victor curled his lip into a sneer a second time as he looked Athos and Aramis up and down, not bothering to hide his disdain for the pair.

'Victor, show these gentlemen to the library. I will read the letter and write a response...Please feel free to look at the books, I am rather proud of the collection I have there.'

'Thank you,' said Athos.

The Comte walked towards the house purposefully. The two Musketeers turned to Victor who, after looking at them again, began to lead them after the Comte.

Victor reached the steps to the main door, as he started to ascend them he missed the first step and stumbled forward. Aramis, who was slightly to the side of the young man, reached out and grabbed his arm and waist to prevent him falling completely.

As Victor was pulled back to stand straight he turned to Aramis, a look of anger on his face.

'Get off me,' he said pushing Aramis' hands away, 'how dare you touch me.'

Aramis looked confused, he glanced back at Athos who shrugged his shoulders slightly not understanding the man's reaction. As Aramis looked back at Victor, Athos was shocked to see the young man pull his hand back and slap Aramis hard across the face. Aramis stumbled back down the step, lost his footing and fell to the floor, a look of shock on his face.

Victor stepped towards the fallen man drawing his foot back to kick him.

MMMM

Aramis tensed up. He was in no position to prevent the kick Victor was aiming at him. He was relieved when Athos grabbed Victor from behind and pulled him away.

'What do you think you're doing?' said Victor as he shrugged out of Athos grasp and turned towards him.

'He did not do anything to deserve that,' said Athos, trying to keep his voice calm, despite how angry he obviously felt.

Victor squared up to Athos who stood his ground.

'Victor!' shouted the Comte from the top step as looked down at the three men. He descended the steps and pushed his son back slightly.

He leaned forward, holding out his hand toward Aramis who allowed the Comte to help him up.

'I am so sorry, monsieur,' Monette said as he looked Aramis over for any injury the fall might have caused him.

'He grabbed me,' said Victor, his voice becoming a whine.

'He stopped you falling and hurting yourself,' said Athos.

Aramis watched Monette turn to his son and glare at him, 'get inside...if you behave like a child I will treat you as such.'

Victor walked up the steps into the house mumbling under his breath.

'Are you injured?' asked Monette as he looked at Aramis again.

Unconsciously Aramis touched the side of his face where Victor had hit him. His cheek stung and he suspected he would be left with a bruise.

'No monsieur,' he said.

'I want you both to have lunch with me,' Monette held up his hand when Athos was about to protest, 'I insist. I want to hear about Paris. I have not been into the city for several weeks...and it would do my sons good to interact with people who are not either staff or...me.'

'In which case, we would be happy to join you,' said Athos acquiescing to the request.

The Comte smiled and turned back to the house, leading the two Musketeers up the steps. The large house was tastefully decorated but looked lived in, evidence of the occupants could be seen. A pair of muddy boots lay by the door, apparently kicked off by Victor as he had entered.

After showing them into the library the Comte excused himself, leaving them alone.

'Are you alright?' asked Athos looking at Aramis.

Aramis smirked, 'of course I am, it would take more than that to keep me down. I lost my footing, that's why I fell.'

Athos nodded, 'that young man could do with teaching a lesson.'

'I agree, the younger lad, was much more polite,' replied Aramis as he started to wander around the library looking at the books.

'My father thought nothing of disciplining my brother and I if we were insubordinate.'

'Didn't you say that Monette's wife died a few years ago? Perhaps he is struggling to find the correct balance bringing his sons up on his own.'

'Your father managed it…'

Aramis smiled, 'oh I had my fair share of being disciplined.'

Athos sat in one of the chairs looking out across the gardens, 'although I suspect young Victor would think it was beneath him to be disciplined, he would expect his father to engage a whipping boy to take his punishment for him.'

Aramis laughed, 'the upper classes are a continuous source of amusement.'

'We are,' agreed Athos, 'which is why I am glad I do not take part in such things anymore.'

MMMM

Victor continued to act sullenly around the two Musketeers as they enjoyed a simple, informal, lunch with the Comte and his sons.

The younger son, Leon, was very interested in the soldier's lives, he was particularly taken by Aramis' weapons which lay hooked over a chair a few yards from the table they were eating at.

'You need to keep your guns clean and the powder dry,' Aramis explained to the fascinated boy.

'Father,' said Leon, 'when are you going to teach me to shoot?'

Monette smiled at his son, 'soon, you're about the same age Victor was now.'

Aramis glanced across at Victor who was scowling at Athos in between bites of his food. Athos was ignoring the young man, which seem to inflame Victor's ire further.

'Can I be a Musketeer?'

Aramis looked over at the Comte before he answered, not wanting to say anything out of turn when the Comte nodded with a small smile the marksman replied.

'You have to be good at sword fighting and shooting first. We are not called Musketeers for nothing...but I am sure in a couple of years, with a letter of introduction our Captain would consider you.'

Leon smiled widely, before helping himself to more cheese despite his brother's disapproval.

'Why would you want to be like them?' said Victor as he took a sip of wine, 'you're better than them…'

The Comte put his knife down and looked at his older son saying firmly, 'one more word from you and I shall have you sent off to stay with my cousin Marc.'

Victor went back to eating his food, he did not make eye contact with anyone for the rest of the meal.

'Leon,' said Monette, turning to his younger son who looked a little worried after the exchange between his father and older brother, 'if you want to be a soldier I would not stop you...I would only ask that you think carefully about it first. It is not an easy life, it is dangerous, and you would not be appreciated by everyone.'

Athos nodded his agreement when Leon looked over at him, 'it is hard work. And the chances of getting hurt or killed is high.'

Leon's eyes widened, 'have you been hurt?'

Both Musketeers smiled, 'at various times yes,' said Aramis.

The information seemed to elevate the two soldiers even further in Leon's mind. Monette was trying to hide a smile as he watched his son's fascination grow.

'Which battles have you been in?'

MMMM

Watching for any threat to the King was second nature to Porthos, he found that he could let his mind wander as he looked around. They were enjoying a hunting trip. At least that is what Porthos told himself. Although the King looked decidedly unimpressed with the hunting so far. The beaters had not managed to flush anything more than a couple of birds which did not offer themselves up as good enough targets for the monarch.

The foreign emissary, Porthos had already forgotten where they were from, had spent most of his time berating anyone that came near him. The King actually looked bored of the whole event. As they had progressed through the wood the King had slowed his horse so that he came into line with Porthos and d'Artagnan. Porthos sighed inwardly, he wondered what the King would want. He never spoke to them unless he wanted something.

'I imagine you are finding this as dull as I am,' he said quietly, so that the emissary could not hear him.

Porthos wanted to reply but knew it would not be a good idea.

'You can be honest, Porthos, isn't it?'

Porthos nodded.

'Be honest...traipsing around forests with me, particularly when there has not been a threat for weeks must feel quite demeaning to a soldier like yourself and d'Artagnan?'

Porthos tried to hide the smile that played across his lips. The King did not miss it. He leaned over, placing a hand on Porthos' arm.

'I am very bored. I know I am disparaging of the working classes at times, but I sometimes wonder if a hard day's graft in the fields would be more enlightening than the longest political meeting.'

'Majesty,' said d'Artagnan from Porthos' other side, 'we are here to protect you...from all threats…'

D'Artagnan nodded towards the emissary. The King chuckled.

'Don't tempt me, d'Artagnan...would you though? If I ordered you to run him through…'

Porthos glanced across to d'Artagnan whose expression clouded at the suggestion.

The King realised what he had suggested.

'No, you have more integrity than that. More than I have, I can assure you.'

They walked on for a little while before the King spoke again.

'Where are the other two, Athos and Aramis?'

'On assignment, sire, they had to deliver your message to Comte Monette,' replied Porthos, wishing he had been allowed to go.

'Oh yes. I like Monette, he was always good to me when I was younger, spoke to me as if I was a normal person. It made a change to the fawning I got from most of the other nobility.'

The King looked away for a few moments.

'He has a son, Victor, I think his name is. Younger than me by several years, but he used to visit the Palace occasionally with his father. I remember catching the lad hitting one of my servants. I stopped him, asked him what had happened, he told me he saw the poor man drop a tray and was teaching him a lesson. The young upstart was kicking the poor man,' the King paused shaking his head at the memory, 'I know that the serving classes need to be kept in their place but they should not be treated without respect.'

Porthos was a little surprised at the King, who had been known to shout at his servants, although Porthos could not remember a time he had raised his hand to one.

The King was looking at Porthos when he continued, 'I hate to say it, but you should be pleased you are not on assignment with your friends, Victor had a particular dislike for dark-skinned people. I cannot understand what his problem was...I suspect some other influence on him. He certainly did not get it from his father.'

Porthos decided he was glad he had not been picked to go to Monette's. Perhaps Treville already knew of the son's misguided ideas.

'I hope your friends only have to deal with Victor's father. Victor would be around twenty now. I expect he is worse than he was when I last saw him.'

MMMM

As the lunchtime conversation had continued Leon had managed to persuade his father and Aramis to allow him to fire one of the marksman's weapons. The Comte had indicated a large old tree across the neat lawn that they could use to aim at.

Athos watched as Aramis took the boy across the lawn talking him through the parts of the gun as they went. The Comte stood with Athos watching them.

'His mother always said, he would not be able to stay here. He has a need to travel. He sometimes goes out first thing and I don't see him again until it starts to get dark.'

'Somewhat different to Victor,' said Athos.

'I hate to imagine what my estate will be like after I am gone. I would much rather leave it to Leon than Victor. I should never have allowed him to stay with my brother over the summer. He is a bad influence. Victor had issues before but has become even more brazen and outspoken since the visit.'

Athos found that he agreed.

Aramis had found a spot several yards from the tree and had given his gun to Leon who was listening intently to the marksman's instructions as he loaded the weapon. Aramis stood behind the boy and helped him line the weapon up and sight the target.

When Leon fired, and a small chunk of bark spun off the tree they both cheered. As they walked back Leon looked very happy with himself, he shook Aramis' hand before running off towards the stables.

'He has a good eye, monsieur, I think the Musketeers would benefit from him in a few years' time,' said Aramis as he joined Monette and Athos by the steps of the house.

Leon reappeared a few seconds later leading the two Musketeers horses, he was still smiling as he handed them over.

'I will see that your reply is delivered today monsieur,' said Athos patting his doublet where he had slipped the Comte's letter earlier.

'Thank you,' said Monette, 'I hope to see you both again at some point.'

Athos nodded, and Aramis tipped his hat to the Comte and his son as they pushed the horses into a trot away from the house.

As they passed the tree that Aramis and Leon had used as target practice Athos said, 'you really could not get two siblings who were so different.'

'I didn't see where Victor disappeared to after lunch, a most insolent young man...I'd like to see what he made of Treville at his most angry...or see him try to match up to Porthos in a brawl,' chuckled Aramis.

They continued through the wooded area, the house far behind them. As the wood thickened Aramis' mare became unusually skittish causing the marksman to slow her down to a walk.

Athos twisted around, 'what is the matter with her?'

'No idea, she's usually so calm,' replied Aramis as he tried to soothe the distressed beast.

Athos looked around them, he wondered if there was something in the vicinity that had spooked the horse. When his own mount suddenly reared and whinnied Athos was taken by surprise. He was thrown from the saddle by the quickness of the movement. A moment in the air had Athos trying to twist his body around so that he did not land on his back, he reached out his arm without thinking to break his fall. The audible snap as he landed told him that breaking his fall was the least of his worries.

'Athos!'

Athos had landed awkwardly on his side his broken arm under him, he managed to roll onto his back and pull the injured limb across his chest protectively. He could not help the cry of pain as he did so. His breathing was quick, his vision greying as waves of pain coursed through his body emanating from his right forearm.

With his eyes screwed shut he did not see Aramis approach and kneel beside him, the marksman's gloved hand grabbing his head and shoulders to try to get his attention.

'Athos?'

'Arm...broken…' panted Athos through clenched teeth.

Athos could feel Aramis' hands gently sliding along his right arm before pausing at the break when Athos tried to pull away.

'Sorry...I need to work out what's broken, it might only be one of the bones...the bone hasn't pierced the skin...I don't think you'll lose the use of the arm…'

Athos was having trouble focusing as pain washed over him again. He decided to concentrate on his breathing, if he could control that he might be able to focus a little. He had not broken a limb since his childhood and that had healed quickly, but he knew that broken limbs in adults took longer to recover.

Aramis was talking to him again, 'if you could try not to pass out, I'd appreciate it. Can you open your eyes?'

Athos obeyed and after a few seconds managed to focus on his friend who was looking at him with obvious worry. Over Aramis shoulder, he saw both their horses standing patiently, whatever had upset them seemed to have gone.

'What happened?'

Aramis followed Athos' gaze and looked back at the two horses, 'I don't know, but they both seem fine now.'

Aramis helped Athos to sit up. Athos cradled his broken arm as Aramis looked around.

'I need something to splint it with. We can sort it out properly when we are back at the garrison...or I could go back to Monette and get us some help from there?'

Athos shook his head, 'I would rather not bother them…'

Aramis steadied his friend when Athos fought off a dizzy spell. He nodded to Aramis when he had regained his equilibrium.

'Still going to have to get you back on a horse, I think you will have to double up with me...I'm not convinced you aren't going to pass out.'

Athos managed a pained smile at the remark. He watched Aramis move away and look at the ground for something to use as a splint.

The sound of twigs cracking drew the attention of them both. Three young men appeared from the undergrowth on the other side of the rough path through the wood. They each had a gun, trained on Athos and Aramis.

MMMM