First, an apology. I hadn't realized that bales of hay weren't invented until the 1930's! I was so busy checking to see if it would be accurate for bales to cause the accident in the way it did that I didn't think of that.

Dr. Lemay examined Aramis, and said he should be just fine. A couple of ribs were bruised, not broken, and he had a mild concussion from hitting his head on the floor. They all realized it could have been far worse, and were very thankful that it hadn't been. Of course, Dr. Lemay gave him a mild pain med for pain and told him to get plenty of rest, to which Aramis immediately protested. He wasn't the best of patients, never wanting to do what he told his own patients when they were sick or injured. But his brothers would keep an eye on him to see that he did exactly what Lemay told him to do. Aramis just let out a long, exaggerated sigh at his predicament, to which his brothers responded with grins.

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Three days later, he was, as he himself put it, 'finally' released from taking it easy, so he could join his brothers on palace duty. "Even if it is almost always very boring, at least I'm finally out of bed rest," Aramis quipped, as he strode towards the palace with his brothers with a smile on his face.

Louis was not to be seen all day, having contracted a small cold and confining himself to his rooms. They were just about to the end of their endlessly long day on duty, when they ran into Philippe de Dammartin, the spoiled and temperamental son of the Comte de Dammartin.

Philippe had decided he wanted to be a Musketeer, attracted probably by adventure, and thinking to cover himself with glory. He had not survived the first training sessions, and highly resented anyone in a Musketeer uniform, especially the ones he held responsible for his failure. They had heard of his disparaging remarks about the Musketeer regiment made in Court circles. He seemed to be trying to turn the focus onto the regiment itself to keep it from focusing on his failures.

Seeing the Musketeers heading his way, he stopped them with a haughtily held hand raised. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my nemeses in the flesh."

Looking them up and down in disdain, he turned to address Athos first, sneering, "Athos, who deemed me not good enough with a sword to be a Musketeer. I, who have been trained by the most renowned fencing master in France."

Athos quietly replied, "The lessons need to be learned properly in order to effectively be a Musketeer."

He was hoping to diffuse the young man's ire by speaking softly to him, but had a feeling nothing would work when the man wanted to vindicate himself so badly. This just made Philippe angrier.

Turning next to Aramis, he raised his voice, saying, "And you, Aramis, deemed me unfit to be a Musketeer because I didn't shoot well enough."

"Philippe, you never once hit the bull's-eye. A Musketeer needs to be able to shoot in case he has occasion to protect one of his fellow Musketeers, the royal family or a citizen ," he replied, striving for calmness in order to quiet the irate young man, but knowing in his heart it wouldn't work. It never had during his training, which was yet another reason he had been asked to leave. He didn't take instruction well at all.

"You Musketeers think you are better than everyone! You think you are on the same level as I! You have delusions that need to be broken!" he continued, fully aware that they were drawing a small crowd who were curious at the confrontation.

Grabbing hold of Aramis' doublet, he yanked at it, shouting, "You are nothing but..."

All three of Aramis' brothers moved a step towards the altercation then. they weren't about to let this rude young man take his tantrum out on him.

But just then, another voice spoke up. "Philippe, how dare you embarrass your family in this way! Take yourself and your childish antics to your rooms, and do not show your face again today," his father, the Comte de Dammartin said in a raised voice. "You dishonor the Dammartin name by behaving like a spoiled child, and I will treat you as one until you mend your ways."

Seeing that his son was not moving, he spoke once again. "If you dare to disobey me, you will be banished to our estates with no spending money until you mend your ways. Now, go!"

With a seething, vicious glance at the Musketeers, Philippe finally stomped off towards his rooms, slamming the doors he went through behind him.

The Comte turned to the Musketeers and said, "I am sorry for my son's behavior. It is time he learned to grow up and behave as a man. Thank you for your restraint in this matter," and turned to head the same way as his son.

Porthos, who had been very quiet through the whole affair, said quietly, "How can he have fathered such a spoiled brat? They're complete opposites." Laughing, the four finished their duties and returned to the garrison for dinner. His brothers teased Aramis about how "boring" palace duty had been that day.

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When they got back, Treville met them in the courtyard. "How was palace duty?" he asked.

Athos answered for all of them. "Other than one small incident, it was a very quiet day," he deadpanned.

Treville, knowing how his Musketeers played down "small" incidents, immediately asked what happened.

"Philippe de Dammartin accosted us, still very unhappy about not being made a Musketeer, suggesting it was our fault that he failed the training."

"He is the most spoiled, arrogant..."

Athos interrupted his captain, saying, "He didn't get much past grabbing Aramis' doublet before his father intervened and sent him to his rooms, telling him that as long as he behaved as a spoiled brat, he would treat him like one!"

That calmed Treville down. He did not like his Musketeers put down by anyone, including members of the aristocracy.

"Good! The Comte showed far more sense than some of our blue-blooded royal favorites!"

The Musketeers were going to proceed towards the dining area, when Treville continued speaking. "Bernard feels responsible for anything that happens in the stable are, and took it upon himself to investigate matters. He has spent the past few days examining the hayloft area and stable thoroughly, and found nothing fishy. Just some rotten wood that should have been replaced long ago by his predecessor. So no suspicious activity, thank goodness, just a very unlucky accident for Aramis, which pointed to the fact that we need to pay attention to the upkeep of our garrison a little better in future."

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Next day, Aramis volunteered to accompany d'Artagnan, who was headed for the market area to meet Constance. Aramis said he would walk with him as far as the apple vendor's.

D'Artagnan asked, "Do you think young Dammartin will continue to cause us trouble?"

"He risks his father's wrath if he does, d'Artagnan. For such a young man, to be without the resources his father threatens to take away from jim will probably outweigh his need to vindicate himself. Let us hope so anyway," throwing his arm around the newest Musketeer's shoulders.

D'Artagnan hadn't been a Musketeer all that long yet, so he wasn't as used to some of the aristocracy's needs to look good before others. But Aramis believed what he had told d'Artagnan. Especially for a young nobleman, to be without the use of his father's pocketbook when he was trying so hard to impress everyone with himself would be a severe blow. He wouldn't have the funds to dress himself in the latest fashions, flirt and give small gifts to some of the Court ladies, and enjoy nights filled with balls, parties and the pleasures of gambling with the other young men. Aramis knew the man would tread lightly if he valued the life he was living.

When d'Artagnan had split up from him, Aramis walked towards the apple cart, looking forward to a nice juicy selection from the cart to enjoy.

He was nearly there when he heard a scream coming from behind him. Thinking to help whoever was obviously distressed, he started to turn to look behind him.

He had virtually no time to react as a very large snarling dog, which had been coming towards him at a rapid pace, launched itself at him. Aramis instinctively lifted his arm to protect his head from the attack. The dog's teeth bit into his forearm, causing him to cry out at the pain it caused. Aramis barely had time to take a breath before the dog attacked again, this time catching his hand in its jaws. But Aramis had been able to grab his pistol in those few seconds, and even as the dog bit down on his flesh, twisted the pistol and fired. The dog dropped like a stone to the ground and lay unmoving, Aramis' deadly accuracy finally removing the threat. Dimly, he heard d'Artagnan and Constance's worried shouts, "Aramis!"

Aramis, now that the dog was dead, slowly sunk to his knees, his damaged arm clutched against his chest. Reaction was setting in, and he could feel the tremors in his body from what he had just been through. As he started to lose consciousness, he felt arms catch him.

D'Artagnan's voice, resonating with the shock of what he had just witnessed, gathered Aramis' upper body into his lap, trying to soothe his brother. "I've got you, Aramis," he heard, just before the blackness settled in.

D'Artagnan, cradling his brother close to his chest, asked Constance to go get Athos and Porthos. She turned to him, saying, "I need to wrap that arm up before he loses too much blood, d'Artagnan. Maybe the apple vendor could go for them?" hurrying off to her nearby house for the supplies she needed.

D'Artagnan caught the apple vendor's attention, and when he came over, asked him to go for his brothers.

Aramis was very pale, and so far, unresponsive. D'Artagnan couldn't believe the scenario he had just witnessed. What were the chances of that happening on a busy city street? But then, he heard a voice in the background saying, "It's Levesque's dog, the one he be tryin' so hard to tame. Wanted it for a guard dog fer 'is shop, he did. Thought it's meanness'd work jus' fine. Somebody must ha' let it out 'f it's pen!" D'Artagnan filed that fact away to investigate later.

He could feel Aramis stirring in his arms. But what he hadn't expected were the frenzied words that came from his half-conscious brother's mouth: No, n...not again! W...wolves!" D'Artagnan's heart plummeted at these words. The attack had brought back memories to Aramis of one of the worst moments of his life **, a memory he and his brothers had hoped Aramis would never relive again.

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** see my ff, Concealed.