A/N: Yea, another story. I should stop hanging around the kinkmeme in what little free time I have. This is in response to a prompt at the bbcmusketeerkink at Dreamwidth, (If you don't know it existed, go check it now and fill some of the delicious prompts please.)

Spoilers: General spoilers for all Episodes of season 1 so far. It kind of starts out from a little after the pilot and goes on form there. The entire thing isn't written yet, but I'll probably finish tonight.

Chapter 1.

"Come on, I've seen six year olds parry better than that with little wooden swords!" Aramis laughed, clearly enjoying himself. He had one hand behind in back in his usual gentleman fashion and under normal circumstances d'Artagnan would have been his match in a sword fight.

But the young Gascon was decked out in full body leather armor. Three weeks of hanging around the garrison had finally led to someone questioning what exactly his plans were and Aramis had decided to 'touch up' his sword skills. The first condition had been the armor.

Moving wasn't as easy as Aramis' graceful effortless dancing made it seem. D'Artagnan was sweating profusely, despite the chilly air and the added unfamiliar weight was slowing his reflexes by a fraction of a second. With a swordsman as skilled as Aramis, that insignificant delay could mean the difference between winning the match and finding himself in the latest rain puddle at the older musketeer's feet.

"And I have seen peacocks with less pomp than you!" D'Artagnan shouted in response, blocking the latest attack barely in time to stop Aramis' sword from being introduced to his neck. The musketeer wasn't holding anything back.

"Now that's just mean." Aramis grinned.

D'Artagnan pushed back and let loose a series of swift precise blows, aiming not to disarm but to distract Aramis. The musketeer countered each easily though, a wide smile on his face telling d'Artagnan exactly how much he was enjoying this. D'Artagnan smiled in return when Aramis saw the kick at his knee coming and got out of the way. It was exhilarating to fight someone with Aramis' level of skill.

Aramis drew back for a minute. Both the men circled each other, moving in a slow arc, watching. They had quite an audience gathered around. Athos and Porthos stood at a distance seemingly engaged in conversation though it was obvious that their attention was fixed on the dueling duo. A few of the other musketeers too had stopped their own training to watch and d'Artagnan could make out the form of the captain on the balcony from the corner of his eye.

Aramis must have sensed his wandering attention for he attacked, lithe as a snake, aiming for d'Artagnan's left side. D'Artagnan's quickly stepped aside to block his weaker side and met Aramis' sword with his own, dangerously close to his face. Aramis leaned in and smiled. "Your footwork has improved considerably."

D'Artagnan pushed him back, attacking before Aramis had the chance to correct his balance. Aramis deflected his attack, leaned backwards and feigned an attack to d'Artagnan's side, waited for him to stumble trying to block an attack that wasn't coming and kicked out his knee when he did. With a flick of his wrist, d'Artagnan's sword went flying.

D'Artagnan glared at Aramis' grinning face looking down at him. "You wait till I get a hang of this armor. I'm going to kick your ass into the mud."

Aramis laughed, "Like that day would ever come." He held out a hand for the Gascon which d'Artagnan took and Aramis helped him up. The musketeer threw a hand around his friend's shoulder and the two started walking towards the armory. "You have to learn to not underestimate your opponent. Your confidence borders on carelessness and that can get you killed."

D'Artagnan grunted. "A lifetime of sparring with farm boys of no skill might have gotten to my head."

Aramis tuned and studied him seriously for a second, before grinning. "Yea it does seem a little bloated."

"Hey!" d'Artagnan shoved the man away and Aramis laughed.

"You keep training with us and we'll beat the overconfidence out of you before you know it."

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "I'm sure knowing that you have my best interests at heart would make washing the mud stains out of my breeches easier."

"You know me, always happy to help." Aramis touched the brim of his hat in a flamboyant gesture and tried to ruffle d'Artagnan's hair but the Gascon quickly moved away. "Don't you worry, before you know it, you'll be good enough to actually land a blow on either one of us son."

D'Artagnan froze.

The smile disappeared from his face. His vision narrowed and he abruptly shrugged off the arm draped across his shoulders.

Aramis turned to face him, a frown on his face. "Is something the matter? Are you hurt?" He studied the boy carefully, taking in the sweat damped hair and flushed cheeks. What caught his attention however were the eyes which weren't meeting his. They looked so utterly empty and closed off that Aramis almost shuddered. He reached out to place a hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder but d'Artagnan shook his head. Brusquely, he sidestepped Aramis and started walking away.

"D'Artagnan, wait!" Aramis called out, but the young man only quickened his pace.

Aramis stood in the middle of the courtyard, staring at the Gascon walking away, confusion etched on his face. Athos walked over. "What happened?"

Aramis tore his eyes away from where d'Artagnan had disappeared round the corner after a few seconds of silence. He looked at Athos, his brow furrowed and he offered an eloquent shrug. "I… honestly have no idea."

As always, I would love to hear your thoughts.

The title has been taken from Rudyard Kipling's poem My Boy Jack. It is my absolute favorite interaction between a father and a son in the entire world. If you don't know what I'm talking about, Rudyard Kipling was a poet (among other things) whose son went to fight in the war. He wrote the poem after his son died. It makes me cry every time I read it.