This is a drabble for Lil - it was 500 words or more, and this (without the comments) is 600 words to the T:) The prompt was "Athos Aramis fluff." I'm bad at Aramis in general, so it was a fun challenge! Here's what we have - there might be a part two for more fluffiness :)

There was something strange about the boy in the corner of the tavern. He was too well dressed for the Merry Mug for one thing. And it was more than just the color-matched, subtly luxurious cloak and pants. 'Pretty' was the word that came to mind. The youth clearly took a great deal of care of himself – skin, clothes, and all. Normally, Athos hated people of this type, but this boy was somehow different.

Maybe it was the open, unashamed sorrow of his posture – he was all but lying on the table and his shoulders shook. There was so much feeling there, and it had been a long, long time since Athos himself felt any real impulse, besides drinking, of course. Now, at least, he felt something, a faint desire to intrude on this all consuming grief.

The older man shrugged and approached the table, "You're between either two wines or two sorrows."

The boy flinched. It had been a long time since Athos bothered regulating his tone. "Barman, two drinks." He turned back to the youth and after appraising him for a long moment, sat down heavily. "You first mistake, whatever your problem is, is that you forgot the drink. What happened to you, incidentally?"

Some dignity seemed to return the child's face. In fact, he almost looked offended. Athos tried not to snort. Oh, sure, manners. He had known those before, but what had a course musketeer, and that is all he was now, to do with manners?

Meanwhile, the boy finally opened his mouth. "A man insulted me, monseiur."

"So kill him."

The boy flinched again.

Rene D'Herblay stared at the rude stranger. That last remark had been almost drawled, as if the musketeer was stating the obvious. As if the man couldn't see that Rene was a seminary student, a person in the service of g-d. Rene thought back to rush of anger he felt after that brief encounter with the guard. Not only was the villain his competition for the affections of the lovely Madame Amedee, but he had actually threatened to cane Rene! And Rene had just stood there... with nothing to say, no defense to utter. He had sworn vengeance in that moment, but 'kill him' was not ... somehow...

And this strange man in front of him, a soldier like the guard, was just staring at him, eyebrows raised. Maybe fate had sent this man.

Rene struggled for a steady voice, too aware that his face had been changing color for the past minute: "I have no sword and do not know the use of one ."

So, a simple, blunt answer. No excuses, no little qualms about human life. And it was obvious the boy did have such qualms. Seminary students usually do.

But, be that as it may, the boy's desperation struck a cord with Athos. He marveled in this long forgotten feeling of sympathy. "Don't neglect your drink, boy." He probably ought to stop calling this kid 'boy.' He was at most five years Athos' junior. Then again, murder and betrayal probably age a man faster than shopping for fine clothes. "If you want to get revenge, I'll teach you fencing."

The boy hid his surprise well, and, apparently, was regaining some of what seemed to be his more usual demeanor. "You are too kind, monseigneur. I would be very honored, and grateful. Incidentally, I believe we failed to affect an introduction..."

Athos smirked at the sudden flowery pleasantry but sat up a little straighter, almost in spite of himself. "Athos."

"And I'm ... I'll be... Aramis."