A/N: Thank you BrokenKestral, SnidgetHex, pallysd'Artagnan, and LadyWallace for your reviews!
Chapter 2
Athos arrived at the garrison the next morning to find Aramis, Porthos, and d'Artagnan sitting at their customary table eating breakfast. He immediately went to join them, pouring himself a cup of water from the pitcher. He snatched a scrap of bread from Porthos's plate to nibble on and tuned into d'Artagnan's excited chatter about his new dragon.
"I feel like a parent," he said. "We were up half the night with her fussing. Every time we tried to leave her alone to go to sleep, she'd start crying."
Porthos chuckled. "Sounds like a baby a'right."
"When are you going to bring her around for us to see?" Aramis asked.
Athos was pleased to note he seemed genuine in his interest and support of their young Gascon; with Adele freshly in the grave and him narrowly escaping hanging for her murder, the rest of them had been worried about Aramis's state of mind.
"I don't know," d'Artagnan replied. "She's very small. And squirrelly. Maybe if we don't have any orders for today, we could go by the dragon compound."
"And have you decided on a name yet?"
D'Artagnan sighed. "No. It feels like a big responsibility. I want to make sure I pick something that fits."
"You could bestow a name you hope she grows into," Athos put in. "That is a common tradition."
"Somethin' strong an' brave," Porthos agreed.
"Regal," Aramis put in.
D'Artagnan shook his head. "See? There's just so much to consider. Unless you know of a name that encompasses all of that."
The three of them shared a look.
"Afraid not," Aramis answered.
Athos caught sight of a messenger arriving at the gate. Joubert greeted him, talked for a moment, and then made his way past the table and up the stairs to the captain's office. His knock on the door reverberated down to them. A few moments later he came back down.
"Have any of you seen the captain?" he asked.
"No," Aramis replied. "Not this morning."
"Etienne!" Joubert called to the other musketeer across the yard. "Is Kilgar in the dens?"
Etienne veered toward them. "No."
"Perhaps they are at the palace," Athos put in.
Joubert shook his head. "A messenger was just here with a summons for the captain."
They all straightened in interest at that.
"Maybe he hasn't returned from his errand yet," Aramis suggested.
"What errand?" Etienne asked.
"He was givin' General de Foix a ride back to wherever he's stationed," Porthos answered. "He'll probably be back soon."
Athos noticed Joubert looking perturbed, a muscle in the man's jaw ticking. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
"Is the King in a snit?" Porthos chimed in.
Joubert shook his head. "It's just…I was at the palace yesterday and overheard the King and Cardinal talking. Apparently the general's sister was taken by the Spanish and he was there to ask the King to authorize a rescue mission. The King denied him."
Athos exchanged a piqued look with the others.
"Should we be worried?" Aramis asked with forced casualness.
"An assault on Spain, even a small one, will be considered an act of war," Joubert said.
"The captain would never risk that," d'Artagnan spoke up.
Aramis didn't look convinced, and Athos wasn't either.
"I believe Treville and de Foix were at military academy together," he said carefully. "And they served together under the previous king."
There was a moment of silence as they all considered that.
"So he's probably off doing something stupid," Aramis concluded.
Athos finally rose from his seat. "The captain left no orders in his absence?"
"Maybe with Cornet," Etienne said.
Athos nodded. "You should speak with him. He'll be in charge until the captain returns."
Etienne narrowed his eyes. "And where will you be?"
"Conducting a survey of our southern borders," Athos replied nonchalantly.
"What do I tell the King?" Joubert asked.
"Tell him what we know: Treville was giving the general a ride home."
Joubert looked distinctly uncomfortable with that. Athos didn't blame him.
He headed up to the captain's office, hoping to find a clue as to where exactly Treville had gone. The door wasn't locked, making Athos wonder if the captain knew he was undertaking a suicidal mission and hadn't planned on returning.
"What are we looking for?" d'Artagnan asked, he, Aramis, and Porthos having followed Athos up to the office.
"Any indication on where they may have gone," Athos replied, sweeping his gaze over the contents of Treville's desk. "The general was probably given a rendezvous point."
"Do you think he told the King?"
Porthos snorted. "Like he'd tell us. An' jus' askin' will alert him that somethin's up."
"This document was filed hastily," Aramis spoke up from where he was scanning the partitioned shelves. He pointed to a rolled up piece of parchment partially sticking out from its slot, then drew it out and walked over to the desk to unroll it. "It's a map of the north-western region of Spain."
"Are there any military establishments there?" Athos asked.
Aramis placed his finger on a mark on the map. "One."
"Then that is likely their destination. And they have nearly a day's head start."
"So we're goin' after the capt'in?" Porthos asked. "You know if we're caught, we'll either be considered a hostile invading force, or spies and executed on sight."
"Something I'm sure the captain has either conveniently forgotten or chosen to ignore," Aramis commented as he rolled the map back up.
"We have no choice," Athos replied. "If not for the captain's sake, then for the sake of France, as we cannot allow two high-ranking military officers to walk right into Spain's hands."
"I'm coming too," d'Artagnan put in.
Athos nearly quirked a smile; he'd never been in doubt.
"Hurry," he said. "We leave in fifteen minutes."
.o.0.o.
The Spanish rendezvous point was a rocky area with lots of shrubbery of varying size, which was good for providing cover for Kilgar. Treville stopped at the edge of a declination into a bowl bisected by shallow streams.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked.
De Foix's expression was grim but resolute. "I have to do this."
Treville nodded. He and Kilgar remained where they were, concealed by the surrounding foliage, as de Foix made his way down into the basin. It did not take long for a troop of Spanish soldiers to break from the stunted tree cover and move to meet him.
"I have come," de Foix called out.
One of the men stepped forward apart from the others. "So you have," he spoke in heavily accented French.
"Where is my sister?"
"She is not far. Once we reach our destination, she will be released."
Treville did not see any horses, so if the plan was to make their way on foot, then the fortress was their most likely course. He quietly drew his pistol and nodded to Kilgar. The dragon surged forward, leaping off the top of the basin and swooping down on the men below with a screeching roar. The men instantly scattered in fright, and Treville took aim to shoot at one. De Foix whipped out his sword and began to cut down opponents as well. With a dragon on their side, it was quick work to decimate the troop, though they made sure to leave the leader alive.
After taking out a row of men with a burst of fire, Kilgar landed right beside the Spanish captain, startling him so badly he fell backward to the ground. Kilgar leaned over him, fangs bared.
Treville stalked over. "Is de Foix's sister truly at the fortress just south of here?"
The man glowered up at him. "The King will not let an incursion go unpunished," he spat.
"Like the incursion of Spanish spies who kidnapped Lucie de Foix?" Treville moved to Kilgar's side to retrieve some rope from his saddlebags, then knelt to bind their captive. "You will lead us to the fortress and we will let you live." He wound the rope around the man's wrists and knotted it tightly.
"We should hide the bodies," de Foix said, gesturing to the scene around them.
Treville nodded to Kilgar to keep watch on their prisoner as he and de Foix set about dragging the dead soldiers under nearby brush. Should a patrol walk directly through the area, they would be visible, but hopefully not from a distance.
They found the troop's camp further back under some trees and loaded up on extra weapons to carry with them. Then Treville hauled their prisoner to his feet and shoved him forward to lead the way to the fortress.
The runty, dry trees gradually gave way to more lush woodland and towering pines. Their group kept to a narrow trench between sloping mounds so as to stay hidden, Kilgar bringing up the rear. Fortunately the dragon's brown coloring made him blend in well enough with their surroundings.
Eventually the tops of castle turrets came into view, set atop a bluff with only one route winding up to the front gate from the south. The north and east sides were sheer cliffs with a moat curling around the base.
Treville drew to a stop. "We're going to have to come up with a plan," he said over his shoulder to de Foix.
His friend moved forward to join him, turning to their prisoner. "What other ways are there in and out of the fortress?"
The man scoffed. "There are none."
"Every castle has multiple passages," Treville rejoined.
The soldier merely held his head up defiantly. They were going to have to think of some way to persuade him, but there weren't exactly many options in the middle of enemy territory and practically on their doorstep.
Kilgar stiffened abruptly, eyes snapping over their heads to something in the trees. Before Treville could react, there was a bone-rattling screech, and two dragons appeared at the top of the gully. They immediately launched themselves at Kilgar, who leaped over the humans in their defense. Treville was knocked down, and de Foix barely kept a grip on their prisoner as the dragons met in a clash of snapping jaws and slashing talons.
Treville's hand instinctively went to his sword, but he hadn't thought to bring any acimite weapons on this mission. He was cursing his shortsightedness now; they should have asked their prisoner what other sentries the castle had waiting for them.
Kilgar twisted and struck, but he was outnumbered. For whatever dragon he lashed out at, the second was able to get him from behind, raking claws down his flank. Trees shuddered and cracked as the dragons crashed into them.
"Kilgar, go!" Treville yelled.
For a moment he didn't think his dragon would listen, but then Kilgar broke away and gave a massive thwack of his wings, fleeing into the sky. The two dragon sentries launched themselves after him, raining down a shower of twigs and broken branches on the forest floor. In the breath between shock and recovery it took for Treville to climb to his feet, he and de Foix found themselves surrounded by a patrol, multiple pistols aimed at them.
Failure settled over Treville in a self-recriminating mantle. The one thing the King and the Cardinal had feared had come to pass, and it was Treville's fault.
They could fight—and die, for they were sorely outnumbered.
But it seemed the patrol was more keen to take them alive. The Spanish soldiers moved forward swiftly and Treville's arm was grabbed from behind before he could raise his pistol again to take a shot. De Foix was also disarmed. Their own captive was freed and they bound instead. Then they were shoved forward and taken to the fortress.
As they crossed the open space between the forest and the castle, Treville swept his gaze out over the trees below them, but he could see no sign of Kilgar or the dragons that had pursued him. Then they passed through the gate into the courtyard.
They were brought into the castle and held until a man dressed in finer cloth arrived. Treville knew from intel that General Alvarez was in charge of this fortress. The patrol captain quickly whispered a string of Spanish in his ear.
The general gave a clipped nod, then turned to face the captives. "Gentlemen," he greeted brightly. "Thank you for handing yourselves over so easily."
Treville gritted his teeth but held his tongue.
"General de Foix, we've been expecting you. But this is the captain of the Musketeers, if I'm not mistaken. That is a pleasant surprise." The general grinned in delight. He waved to his men. "Make our guests comfortable for their extended stay."
Treville and de Foix were then manhandled down a corridor to a stairwell and to the dungeon below. They were brought to a cell where the ropes around their wrists were untied, only to be replaced with irons bolted into the stone wall. Then the soldiers left, slamming and locking the door behind them.
De Foix shuffled over to one wall and slid down to sit against it dejectedly. "I'm sorry for getting you into this."
"I knew what I was signing up for," Treville replied. He did a circuit of the cell as far as his chains allowed, more out of habit than any viable search for escape. He circled back around and sat against the opposite wall across from his friend.
"Now we are both to be tortured for information betraying our country," de Foix said morosely.
Treville leaned his head back against the cold stone at his back. He was a soldier; he knew what was coming. And he knew that neither of them would give their tormentors what they wanted.
"We are brothers," he said. "There is no other place for me to be."
De Foix drew one leg up to rest an arm on. "I often dream of the old days. You, and I, and Belgard riding together."
Treville smiled softly at the memories. "They were good times."
Silence fell between them.
"I knew him as soon as I saw him," de Foix said, breaking it.
"Who?"
"The musketeer called Porthos. He's Belgard's son, isn't he?"
Treville's jaw tightened. The shame and stain of that part of his past was a slumbering secret, one he did not want to stir up.
"I'm facing torture and death," de Foix said. "I'd like to die knowing I'm not responsible for the boy's death."
Treville sighed; he understood that feeling all too well. "I couldn't live with what we'd done," he admitted. "So I searched for them for years, without success. And then…call it fate, chance, God, what you will…he came to me."
Treville remembered seeing Porthos in battle, shortly after the young soldier's eye had been stitched up after a close call with a dragon. He hadn't stayed down, but had come back out to help round up the last of the rebels. And Treville had known in that moment that he wanted that man in his regiment of Musketeers.
"And the woman?" de Foix asked. "His mother?"
"She died of despair soon after we abandoned them in the slums."
De Foix hung his head. "We broke her heart." He then looked up again. "Does Porthos know?"
"No."
To Treville's continued relief and pretend absolution.
There was the creak of a heavy wooden door and approaching footsteps outside the cell.
"Perhaps this is my penance after all these years," de Foix commented quietly.
Treville listened to a key clicking in the lock of their cell door. "Mine too," he murmured.