A/N: Thank you pallysAramisRios, beeblegirl, LordLady, and SnidgetHex for reviewing!

This one's set in my dragon rider verse, pre-series.

No 14. Is Something Burning? — Rhaego

The garrison yard was full of boisterous carousing as the men celebrated Porthos's birthday. At least, this was the day he'd picked for himself, since he didn't know the actual date of his birth. So every year Aramis made sure it was a grand thing, with the brandy and wine flowing and everyone not on duty partaking in the festivities. Porthos deserved it.

They toasted his years on this good earth, the years he'd served in the Musketeer regiment. Even Athos, who usually drank alone, found a perch only slightly off to the side to nurse his bottle and quirk his mouth on occasion at the raucous crowd, particularly Porthos's melon shooting stunt, which was tradition at this point.

Aramis stood perfectly still, back to the wooden post, with the melon balanced atop his head. Porthos swayed a little as he stumbled into place to raise his pistol. Aramis was tipsy enough himself not to be bothered by that.

The pistol shot cracked the air; the melon exploded, raining juice and rinds down on Aramis's head. Everyone cheered.

Aramis was grinning madly as he made his way back over. Someone handed him a mug of water which he poured over his head to rinse some of the sticky bits out.

"We're almost out of wine!" someone called.

"We can't have that," Aramis called back. "I'll get more."

"I'll help," Porthos volunteered, walking with him around to the back of the yard where the wagon delivery of wine had been left.

"Shoulda moved it closer," Porthos grumbled.

"And let Athos drink it all before anyone else got thirds?" Aramis scoffed.

Porthos chuckled.

They rounded the corner and pulled up short at the sight that greeted them—the barrels of wine were tipped over across the ground that was splotched with dark puddles and splinters, and right in the middle lay Aramis's scamp of a dragon, his fore claws holding onto one barrel as he clamped his jaws around the spigot and guzzled down the wine.

"Rhaego!"

The russet dragon lifted his head toward them, leaving the rest of the wine in the barrel to dribble out on the ground. He let out a toothy grin, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

"You little…" Porthos growled, taking a menacing step forward.

Rhaego jerked his head up as a hiccup jolted his body. His eyes went wide in surprise. Another hiccup forced its way up, and with it came an eruption of fire that sent Aramis and Porthos scrambling out of the way. The flames skimmed across the wagon, scorching its side. Rhaego skittered backward, smashing the empty barrels as one right after the other, hiccups and burps of fire kept bursting from his mouth.

"What is going on?" Treville bellowed, having come upon the scene.

The commotion had drawn other musketeers to the ruckus, as well as some other dragons. Rhaego instinctively turned toward his den mates, eyes wide and pleading for help, but another explosion of flame sent Savron and Vrita scrambling backward to avoid getting singed.

"Damn dragon drank all the wine," Porthos scowled.

And now he was paying for it.

"Someone get Bonacieux," Treville ordered. "You four, put these flames out. And you," he turned to Aramis, "get your dragon away from the buildings before he burns the garrison down."

Aramis nodded quickly and took a step toward his dragon, though he had to immediately back up again when another stream of fire shot out. "Rhaego, come on," he coaxed, gesturing for the dragon to move out into the middle of the yard where the only thing that would be scorched would be the dirt. And Aramis if he got too close…

Rhaego stumbled along after him, not only unbalanced from his hiccups, but it was clear he was thoroughly drunk as well.

"What possessed you?" Aramis muttered.

Rhaego gave him a pitiful look as he lumbered to a stop in the middle of the yard, as far away from the buildings as possible. Another belch of fire ripped from his throat, followed by a whimper.

Aramis put his hands on his hips, helpless to do anything about it. Behind Rhaego, men rushed with buckets of water to douse the flames consuming the wagon and broken wine barrels. Aramis grimaced, figuring the cost of all that was going to come out of his commission.

Athos meandered over to him, eyeing Rhaego with a bland look. "I have never met a dragon with such propensity for mischief," he commented.

Aramis snorted. Normally he'd take that as a compliment, but not so much today.

Jean Bonacieux and his daughter Constance arrived and immediately made their way over. Both of them cast disbelieving looks at the remains of the wine barrels. Rhaego turned his head their way with a plaintive mewl, only to jerk as another hiccup erupted. Aramis's heart leaped into his throat as Jean and Constance barely dove out of the way in time. Of course, as dragon keepers, they knew how to handle such problems.

"Mix up the refroidi with some milk," Jean said to Constance.

She nodded and hurried off to one of the storerooms.

Of course, why didn't Aramis think of using the alchemical compound to extinguish Rhaego's fire? Probably because it wasn't a very nice substance to choke on while it was doing its work.

"Is that safe for him?" Aramis asked.

"We'll get him to drink it, not throw it in his mouth," Jean assured him.

Aramis eyed his dragon as he continued to hiccup and burp fire. Good luck getting close enough to get him to drink it…

Constance returned, and as Aramis expected, it took some finagling for her and her father to get close enough to Rhaego to pour the liquid into his mouth without getting their hair singed off. And of course the recalcitrant dragon was resistant to the medicine that would actually help him.

"Rhaego," Aramis finally snapped. "Sit still and take it. Unless you want to keep burping up brimstone."

Rhaego shot him a sulky glower and hunkered down. Jean and Constance waited until just after one of the hiccups to dart in and pour the mixture into his mouth. Despite watering down the abrasive compound, Rhaego still coughed and sputtered as he swallowed. Aramis tensed with worry that he'd spew out more fire before Jean and Constance could back up, but the remedy seemed to have worked instantaneously, as Rhaego made a hitched hiccup that exuded smoke instead of flame. With a drunken, exhausted sigh, he slumped fully on the ground.

"That'll take care of the fire hazard," Jean said. "As for drinking that much wine, he'll just have to sleep it off." He bent over to look Rhaego in the eye. "You'll never do that again, will you?"

Rhaego mewled pitifully, but there were few willing to give him sympathy. Even Constance gave him a reprimanding glare, though she then sat down next to him and stroked his head comfortingly.

Porthos stalked over, looking grumpy. "He done tryin' to burn the place down?"

"Looks like," Aramis replied. "I'm sorry about your birthday celebration."

Porthos shrugged. "It was fun while it lasted. And this sure will be one of the more memorable ones."

"Indeed."

Still, Aramis felt guilty that his dragon had, once again, been the source of an inconvenient amount of trouble.

"Also," Porthos went on with a meaningful look, "now we know we have to hide the wine from Athos an' this one."

"I heard that," Athos muttered.

Aramis grinned. "Perhaps you can impart some of your hangover wisdom to my fool of a dragon in the morning."

Athos shrugged and took a swill of the bottle he was still carrying around, then passed it to Porthos, who arched a dubious brow.

"Athos sharing?"

He shrugged again. "Happy birthday."

Porthos smirked and knocked back a swig, then offered it to Aramis.

Aramis waved it off. "I think I'll provide an example to this miscreant while I nurse him back to health. Constance, you don't have to stay."

"That's alright," she replied. "We both know this one's a handful."

Rhaego made a gargling sound like indignation, which only earned him several pointed looks. Hopefully he'd learned his lesson, though. Dragons and alcohol did not mix.