Ok, this is a 2-for-1 as the last chapter felt short! The Italics indicate a flashback. Enjoy!

oooooooooo

Aramis knelt before the altar in the church that proudly stood on the edge of town, watching over the residents of its village. Even as a child, Aramis could vividly remember being comforted by the statuesque building. Though not overly grand, the statuary's craftsmanship, the brightly coloured glass windows and the intricate mosaic tiled floor always struck Aramis with their beauty.

"Perhaps the General was right when he said I should become a priest," mused Aramis. "Maybe then I would have learned the discipline he so thought I needed."

Aramis ran his hand through his hair again, fingers tracing their customary path over the scar hidden beneath the mop of curls. His emotions were wreaking havoc on his mind, and he came to the church hoping for solace and clarity. However, as he knelt before the altar, a phantom throb emanating from the hidden scar, Aramis' soul was more turbulent than ever.

"It was so long ago!" Aramis blurted out to the candles, the only things sharing his confession. "How can this place still affect me like this?" he thought.

It had been years since D'Herblay had even crossed his mind. Years since he thought about his father or the lessons that were taught to him. And yet now…now it was like no time had passed. His reunion with his sister had caused old fears and panic to rise up in him once more. Every fibre in him longed to get his sister and her son away from his maniacal father. The urge to protect them forcing its way to the front of his emotions again.

"Protect them from what?" he thought bitterly. "It was me he hated. Never her. She's safe with him. He'd never harm her," he thought, digging his nails into his palm as though trying to mark this resolve upon his body.

"But what about the boy?" he countered. Aramis could already see the lessons taking hold on his nephew. The shame of tears, the suppression of pain. Aramis shuddered and raised his eyes to the ornate crucifix hanging on the wall.

It was a long time ago he thought as painful memories flashed through his mind.

"You will never cry out," said his father, as he handed Charles the rod. "Tears are weakness," he said as the first blow of the day fell. Aramis had been there for over a year now, learning these "lessons" at his father's hand. The second lash fell and Aramis flinched as the rod made contact with his already damaged ribs.

"You will be a soldier, Rene." His father continued. "If I am to acknowledge you as my son, you will not be weak. Your weakness will be seen as my weakness, and I have no weakness," he spat as Charles struck the boy again, the impact sending the boy to his knee.

"Get up," his father instructed. "You will feel no pain," he said. Another blow fell on the young boy's back. "You will feel nothing," he said. "Swallow your pain. Cast it aside. Ask Charles for another."

The boy trembled as he pushed himself to his feet.

"Ask for another," he said, "Or perhaps you'd prefer if that boy from the kitchen took your blows for you, like a true nobleman's son. Or perhaps Annabella? She is my true daughter after all. Perhaps these lessons will come easier to her…"

"No!" shouted the boy. His father struck him, knocking him backwards off his feet. His head bounced roughly on the stone step of the cellar room.

"How dare you raise your voice to me," his father said coldly. "It is your duty to obey me."

Rene, the boy Aramis, struggled to his feet once more, blood trailing down the side of his face. "Do…not…touch her…" he sputtered out, knees shaking violently, but he brought his burning dark eyes to meet his father's. Charles raised the rod again, but the General raised his hand to halt the blow.

"So…" he said, grinning maliciously. "You love her. Good. Her fate is in your hands now then," he said. "Every time you disobey me, she will be punished. Any time you cry out, she will be punished. You will feel no pain Rene. If you do, her pain will be doubled whatever you might feel. Think on that," he said cruelly, striking his son once more. The boy staggered but kept his feet. His father's eyes alighted as his son's burned with anger and determination.

He would not cry out. He would feel no pain.

"Again," said his father. "The ribs," he said as his lackey stepped forward with a smug cruel gleam in his eye. The General left the room as the next blows fell.

Aramis brought his hand to his hairline once more and traced the scar hidden within it. That was the night that Annabella had found him, unconscious on the stairs. Aramis had no idea how he had gotten there, and fought Annabella to let him return to his room, swearing the blow was an accident and he had fallen down some stairs. He couldn't risk his father thinking that he might be in pain. He could never remember how long these lessons went on for – his father and Charles discovering new ways of testing him, but eventually his body became strong and his will even stronger, but in his heart his desire to protect burned. They were never able to cow him, to quench the fire within him. When Annabella was sent away, Aramis' desire to protect her grew. She was a hostage somewhere, and vulnerable, should his father grow upset. So Aramis stayed, and he learned to ignore the weaknesses of his body, to push down the pain. To not let injuries impede his action.

His father's sinister eyes seemed to glow before him in the dim candlelight of the church, his face alight with a cruel leer. The face changed to his own, full of anguish, like it was on the day he learned of his mother's death, like it was on the day he left this place, like it was after Savoy…and quite suddenly the face before his eyes changed once more, this time to the face of Rene, his nephew. Eyes full of curiosity and trust, a vision of goodness, adventure and the desire to please.

"No," thought Aramis. "I will not let him teach these lessons to the boy. He will not try to build another monster where I failed. I will not let the demon destroy his heart in the name of obedience." Aramis leapt to his feet, resolved to take his sister and her son as far away from the cruelty of his father's home as possible. He exited the church and paused.

Bright white lights burst before his eyes suddenly as the side of his head exploded in pain. He dropped heavily, the stars overhead swimming drunkenly before darkness took him.

oOo