A/N: Thank you Deana, SnidgetHex, Fleuramis, LadyWallace, and pallysd'Artagnan for your reviews of the last episode! Glad you enjoyed it. ^_^
Chapter 1
D'Artagnan gazed at the hatching dragon egg, breath suspended in a sphere of awestruck captivation. A tiny gurgle sounded from within the cracked gap, and a thin, nubby foot stretched out to paw at the surrounding shell. What had once felt as hard as rock now fell like paper cards as a small bundle suddenly tumbled out in a jumble of wiry limbs and webbed wings. The dragon let out a high-pitched squawk and rolled, trying to get its feet under itself. It was no bigger than a kitten and completely white.
Jean reached out with a towel to wipe some of the viscous fluid from the dragon's face, cleaning out its nose and mouth. He moved to wipe down the wings, and the dragon squeaked at the manhandling.
"Amazing," he breathed.
D'Artagnan could only agree. He tentatively held out a hand toward the baby dragon. It blinked wide black eyes around at its surroundings, small chirping sounds emanating from its throat. It bobbed its head and zeroed in on his approaching fingers, then began to sniff cautiously. D'Artagnan let it get a good whiff, then carefully reached past its head to touch the side of its neck. The dragon flinched in surprise but allowed it. Its attention kept darting around though, probably overwhelmed by all the new sights, sounds, and smells.
"You're lucky, my boy," Jean went on. "Such unusual coloring is extremely rare."
D'Artagnan paused. "Is it? The color doesn't come later?"
Jean shook his head. "No."
"Is it albinism?" Constance asked.
"No. See here…" He picked up a candlestick and brought it closer. The baby dragon ducked away before arching its neck curiously at the flame. "There're hints of color."
D'Artagnan peered closer. Sure enough, in the right angle of the candlelight he could make out soft, opalescent shimmers throughout the scales—lilac, pale blue, peach.
"She's beautiful," Constance said, reaching out to pet its head.
The baby dragon stumbled around, disoriented and wobbly on its newborn legs.
"She?" d'Artagnan repeated.
"Yes," Jean confirmed.
The baby dragon opened its mouth then and let out a wailing keen.
"That would be a hungry cry, I presume," Jean said. He moved to a table on the other side of the room where some bowls were set out. "I've prepared a formula of milk and ground up mealworms."
D'Artagnan wrinkled his nose at that bit of information.
"It won't be long before she'll be ready for solid food though," he went on.
The little dragon went skittering around on the counter top. D'Artagnan swooped in to catch her from tumbling off the edge. Her tiny nose sniffed wildly at his hands, and he pressed himself against the ledge, trying to coax her into his arms. She crawled into them, wriggling so much he was afraid he was going to drop her.
Jean handed a bowl of pale brown liquid to Constance, who brought it closer to d'Artagnan and held it steady under the baby dragon's nose. She gave it a tentative sip, then began to lap it up greedily, splashing some on d'Artagnan's sleeves. He didn't mind. As long as he didn't think about the mealworms.
She didn't drink much before she was apparently sated, and then she curled up where she was in d'Artagnan's arms. A low thrum started to vibrate her tiny body in a manner that d'Artagnan could only name as purring. He shared a delighted look with Constance.
"What are you going to name her?" she asked.
"I don't know," he replied. "I'll have to think about it."
.o.0.o.
Treville shifted another piece of parchment from the to-review pile to the finished pile. There was so much paperwork required for the running of a garrison. The responsibility was an honor, but also tedious, and sometimes he missed the simpler days of a soldier not burdened with command.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Yes," he answered.
Pierre opened it. "You have a visitor, Captain."
Any excuse to put off this mindless paperwork. "Send them in."
Pierre ducked back to allow the figure behind him entrance. Treville straightened in surprise.
"De Foix."
The general smiled. "It's good to see you, old friend."
Treville's mien broke into a beaming grin as well and he moved forward to embrace his friend. "What errand has dragged you away from the fort? I thought nothing short of a summons from the King would get you out of there, and I had not heard one was sent."
De Foix's expression turned grim. "Indeed." He took a breath. "My sister has been taken by the Spanish."
Treville blinked incredulously. "What?"
"I am well ensconced in the fort, as you said," de Foix explained. "Making it impossible for our enemies to get to me. So they've gone after my only family instead. I received a note from the Spanish, along with the locket that belonged to our mother as proof that Lucie is in their hands. They want me in exchange for her."
Treville took a step back, stunned. "That is madness. They cannot possibly believe such schemes will garner them anything."
"I cannot abandon my sister," de Foix said sharply.
Treville sighed contritely. "Of course. What is it you are proposing?"
"I would never turn myself over to them, which is why I am here. I propose a rescue mission."
"Do you know where she is being held?"
"Not specifically. But I was given a location to meet them, and I can only assume it will be near whatever place they intend to intern me in her place."
Treville pursed his mouth thoughtfully and walked over to one of the shelves containing military documents, such as maps. "What is the area?"
"The north-western part of Spain," de Foix replied.
Treville rifled through a stack of rolled up maps before finding one that focused on that region. He brought it over to his desk and rolled it out. "There is a fortress there. It will be heavily guarded."
"With a skilled group of men, I am sure we can succeed," de Foix declared staunchly.
Treville nodded. "We can petition the King to authorize a rescue mission, though I do not know if he will be amenable."
In truth, Treville did not think Louis would give a second thought to de Foix's plight, but perhaps Treville could convince him it was a worthy cause after the general's many years of loyal service.
De Foix inclined his head gratefully. "Thank you"
Treville clapped him on the shoulder in a gesture of solidarity. "We can go now."
He grabbed his coat and shrugged into it, followed by his weapons belt, then led the way from the garrison to the palace where they requested an audience with the King. The palace guard directed them to one of the receiving rooms while a servant delivered the message of their arrival to the King's chambers.
De Foix roved his gaze around the opulent hall. "Feels like a lifetime ago when we served in the royal guard," he remarked, then added soberly, "Both good and dark days."
Treville didn't respond. There was much in their shared history, the kinds of things that bonded men with brotherhood—and tested it.
The doors opened and Louis strode in. "Captain Treville," he greeted, then arched a surprised brow. "General de Foix. This is unexpected."
Treville opened his mouth to explain the situation when he was cut off by another set of doors opening. He gritted his teeth as none other than the blasted Cardinal entered.
"I heard General de Foix was here," the pompous man said by way of greeting. "He must have important news to report."
"Indeed, Your Majesty," de Foix said, turning to address the King. "My sister has been taken by the Spanish in a desperate attempt to get at me. I have come to ask for a few men to aid me in a rescue mission."
Louis's brows rose sharply. "A rescue mission?" he repeated dubiously.
"That is most irregular, General," Richelieu said. "We cannot risk an act of war against Spain."
"If it is carefully planned, Spain will have nothing to accuse us of," Treville interjected.
Richelieu shook his head. "You are the chief author of our military strategy against Spain," he said to de Foix. "We cannot risk that information falling into enemy hands, especially not over a woman."
De Foix's eyes flashed with fury, and he turned sharply to Louis. "If it were your sister, would you abandon her?"
Treville tensed.
Louis's expression hardened briefly, but he didn't respond in kind. "My deepest condolences, General," he said instead in a sedate tone.
Treville grabbed his friend's arm roughly, bowing his head to the King in respect as he dragged de Foix from the room.
"I'm sorry," he said when they were out in the hall.
De Foix took a breath to collect himself. "I suppose I knew it was a long-shot to begin with. Of course the King would not consent to such a risk of resources for someone who holds no value on his chessboard."
Treville winced at the truth of the statement. He'd known that as well.
"I cannot abandon Lucie," de Foix went on. He pulled up short and turned to face Treville in the hall, lowering his voice. "I know it is treasonous to ask, but please, Treville, in the name of our friendship, help me save my sister."
Treville had known, deep down, that the request would come. And he knew all the reasons why he should refuse. Yet they were all trumped by the one de Foix had invoked. He nodded sagely.
De Foix's shoulders lost some of their tension as relief filled his eyes.
They returned to the garrison and Treville immediately set about gathering supplies for their mission. He picked up some extra pistols from the armory and packed a bag of provisions. Back in his office, the two of them quickly reviewed the map of the area they would be traveling to before Treville filed it away so no one would suspect where he had gone.
Then they headed downstairs and he whistled for Kilgar as he veered toward the dragon tack room to retrieve the dragon's saddle. None of his men out and about questioned him, but it was just his luck that Athos, Porthos, and Aramis would happen upon him.
"Do we have a mission?" Athos asked mildly, eying the obviously well-stocked saddlebags.
Treville gestured to his friend. "This is General de Foix. I'm just giving him a ride back to the fort where he's stationed."
Athos flicked a curious look at the general, but he and the others accepted the answer without question, as Treville knew they would. But then as they were moving on, de Foix twisted to study Porthos.
"Forgive me, monsieur. What is your name?"
Porthos quirked a confused brow. "Porthos. Porthos du Vallon. Have we met?"
De Foix hesitated for a short beat. "I don't believe so," he said in a rush.
Treville watched the exchange tensely. Porthos lingered for a moment longer before shrugging off the encounter and turning to head off with Athos and Aramis.
"Let's go," Treville said.
De Foix came over and climbed into the saddle behind him. They hooked the anchor lines to their belts, and then Kilgar launched into the sky, veering south at Treville's direction.
"I've missed this," de Foix commented after they'd been in the air for a bit.
Treville frowned and glanced over his shoulder. "What happened to Beodwyn?"
"He was crippled in the battle against the Swedes at Nuremberg. He can't fly anymore."
Treville blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Otherwise I would have gone on this rescue mission myself," de Foix added.
"That would have been a stupid thing to do." Treville craned his neck around. "You know you could have come to me, even if Beodwyn was with you."
De Foix smiled. "I know. You are the one person I have always been able to count on."
The French countryside rolled beneath them, and they reached the Spanish border by early evening with still enough daylight to continue for a little longer, but they would be easily spotted from the air and would have to make their foray into Spanish territory on foot.
Kilgar landed and Treville and de Foix dismounted. Treville then reached to start removing the saddlebags.
"Thank you, my old friend," he told his dragon. "Hopefully I will still be captain when this is all over and we may ride again, for many years to come."
Kilgar angled a sidelong look at him, then shifted away before he could remove the saddlebag.
Treville furrowed his brows. "You cannot come with us."
The dragon snorted.
"I will not ask you to come with us," Treville rephrased. They were bordering on insubordination, desertion, and treason, to name just a few of the violations they could find themselves charged with should they succeed in this mission.
Kilgar simply chuffed and didn't budge. Treville shook his head.
"I never could win an argument with you."
His dragon let out a smirking snort.
Treville sighed in resignation. "Very well." He turned and saw de Foix trying to hide a smile.
"We're a dying breed," he remarked. "Loyalty, honor. Such virtues are not held in such high regard anymore."
"That isn't true," Treville countered. "I have seen such honor and loyalty in the men who serve under me." His mouth quirked ruefully. "France will be well protected when the last of us are gone from service."
There was a poignant pause among them, and then with wordless agreement, they set off on foot into Spanish land.