A/N: Thank you beeblegirl, SnidgetHex, Musketball1, and pallysAramisRios for reviewing!

Chapter 4

Anne stood silently, knuckles white in the folds of her dress as Boudier finished cutting into Athos. All three of her brave musketeers had endured the torture and barely made a sound, allowing only the most restrained hiss or groan to pass their lips as that monster carved them up. The least she could do was control her own wretched sobs in the face of their courage. But she didn't know how much longer they could last. They sat on their haunches in the middle of the throne room, their postures sagging under the weight of pain and exhaustion. Faces bruised and bleeding, shirts stained crimson through tattered rents that had sundered both fabric and flesh, yet still they refused to give up where Porthos had gone. Anne knew they didn't know, but they wouldn't say even that.

Boudier stepped back finally, eyes smoldering with a mixture of frustration and admiration. When he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his dagger clean, Anne allowed herself to breathe in relief at the respite.

One of the Duke's men entered the hall and went over to de Lourraine. "The dragons have returned. They found nothing."

"That is unacceptable!" Magnier raged, kicking the footstool at the base of the throne and sending it rattling across the floor. "We cannot hold the throne without the King."

"You have no rightful claim to it in the first place," Anne said staunchly.

"Neither do you," he snapped. "You're nothing but a Spanish bitch."

"Would you kill my son for being half Spanish, then?" she demanded.

"Not if you hand him over." Magnier sneered at her. "Don't worry, I'll raise him right, care for him as though he were my own."

Anne's cheeks flushed hot with fury. "Over my dead body."

Magnier stormed toward her, nostrils flaring. "That is the plan." He whirled toward Captain Lahaye. "Is our audience ready?"

"The street outside the main gate is packed," he confirmed.

"Audience for what?" Anne asked.

Magnier turned back to her with a sinister gleam. "Your public execution."

Her heart lurched into her throat, cutting off her air with a small gasp.

He spun toward the musketeers next. "And since you refuse to talk, you can join her."

Anne saw their eyes flash darkly and the fire to fight surging up, but it was swiftly extinguished by their lack of strength as soldiers came forward and seized them. They stumbled as they were hauled to their feet and dragged toward the door. Anne struggled against the men who grabbed her and followed.

Outside, the Duke's dragons stood at attention, leering at the prisoners as though they could sense the bloodlust in the air. The Musketeer dragons shifted futilely beneath the chains pinning them to the ground, distressed keens emanating from their throats as their riders were marched past them toward the main gate.

It had been flung open, and a crowd was gathered outside, held at bay by a line of city guards. Anne's blood ran cold when she spotted the executioner off to the side, sharpening his axe.

Captain Lahaye strode forward and began shouting above the din. "The Spanish pretender to France's throne will finally be deposed!"

Anne was shoved toward the middle of the gravel drive and forced to her knees, her heart thundering and blood roaring in her ears in competition with the jeers from the crowd. She choked on a terrified sob, stunned by the sheer hatred surrounding her.

Aramis began to thrash against his captors in an effort to break free, but one of them struck him between the shoulder blades and he dropped to the ground hard. Anne reached up to clutch her throat as the executioner began to make his way toward her. Was this how it was to end? She twitched her gaze toward Athos and d'Artagnan, who were likewise struggling against the men restraining them. Anne sought Aramis's gaze, her heart breaking anew when she found it awash with anguish looking back at her. The executioner came to a stop beside her, the axe blade dangling in her peripheral vision. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Shouts filled the air around her—some of outrage and protest, others egging the executioner on. And then, above it all, a dragon roared. The jeers turned to screams, and Anne lifted her head, blinking against the sun as half a dozen dragons descended from the sky toward them.

Magnier bellowed something, followed by the Duke. De Lourraine's dragons launched into the air to engage the incoming dragons, but they were outnumbered, and some banked sharply to veer past them. Citizens went running in terror, and in the moment of distraction, the musketeers twisted around to fight back against their captors, using their bound hands to clobber them. Before other guards could rush in and handle them, a rufous orange dragon swooped low overhead, snatching several guards off the ground in its talons and tossing them through the air.

Athos broke free of the guards and ran straight at the executioner, tackling him to the ground before he could recover his wits and finish his task. Anne yelped and scrambled out of the way as they rolled. Athos punched the masked man's face and grabbed the axe, ramming the handle into his head. With the executioner limp on the ground, Athos knelt down and used the curved blade to slice through the ropes on his wrists. He then turned to hurry back toward the others, who were still fighting with bound hands.

Anne staggered to her feet, unsure where to go in the midst of the chaos. She half turned, only to freeze when Boudier, standing several feet away, pulled a pistol and aimed it at her. But then someone barreled into her like a battering ram, and they both went crashing to the ground. She heard the report of the pistol, but the only pain she felt was from her elbow striking the dirt and shooting fire up her arm. She and her savior rolled until he was on top of her, and Anne found herself blinking up at Aramis. His expression was pinched with strain, but his gaze was both fierce and gentle.

"I've got you," he breathed.

She let out a shuddering breath. For a moment, they were suspended, but then the sounds of dragon screeches shattered the spell, and Aramis pulled her upright, tugging her protectively behind him as battle raged around them.

.o.0.o.

Porthos leaned low over Vrita's neck, reducing the drag against the wind shear across her back as they flew at full speed toward Paris, Clara and half her dragons in formation behind them. It wasn't the first time a musketeer and a cohort of dragons were making a last-ditch effort to retake the throne from a usurper, though Porthos really hoped it would be the last. This time they didn't have the entire garrison at their backs, or troops on the ground waiting for them. But this was all they did have and Porthos could only hope it would be enough.

He had certainly beaten poor odds before.

The city quickly came into view, its streets and buildings swiftly passing beneath them as they headed for the palace. Porthos straightened marginally as he caught sight of a large gathering at the gate. That looked like…his heart leaped into his throat.

Vrita let out a raging battle roar that reverberated through the air like thunder. There were four enemy dragons on the grounds, and they all launched into the sky in response. Clara's dragons shrieked and surged forward with a burst of speed to meet them head on, freeing Porthos and Clara on Vrita and Nurim to veer around the incoming dragons. Clara and Nurim made a beeline for where the Musketeer dragons were tied down, while Vrita swooped low toward the crowd gathered around the looming execution. Sven shot past them, mowing down a line of soldiers and sending the ranks scattering.

Porthos swung one leg over the saddle and held himself poised along Vrita's flank. She slowed her speed as she glided over the gravel drive, and Porthos jumped. He bent his knees to absorb the impact of the landing and immediately drew his sword to cut down anyone within reach. Vrita continued past, heading for the army camped along the edge of the grounds.

Porthos tore through the city guards and soldiers standing between him and his brothers. He reached d'Artagnan first, who stood out among their adversaries in his bloody and torn shirt. Righteous fury ignited in Porthos's heart when he saw how beat up the young Gascon was, but d'Artagnan had gotten his hands on a sword and was dueling with the enemy. So was Athos a few yards away.

Porthos shoved his blade into an opponent's chest and wrenched it back out, spinning in search of Aramis. He spotted him struggling to fight off three men one-handed while he kept the Queen behind him. With a bellow, Porthos plowed through everyone in his way, cutting down two of the soldiers from behind and giving Aramis the chance to finish off the third. He was as beaten and bloody as d'Artagnan and Athos but on his feet. Porthos took up position beside him, determined to defend the Queen.

Dragons battled viciously in the air above them, screeching and spewing flames at each other. One came careening out of the sky and slammed into Vrita midair, taking her to the ground and carving a trough through the dirt with the force of the impact. Porthos flicked a quick glance her way as she thrashed and clawed at the other dragon. It tripped, and she managed to get its jugular between her jaws. With a deft twist, she snapped its neck.

The army at the edge of the grounds was scurrying about and shouting. Someone shot a pouch at Vrita and hit her in the face. It exploded with bright orange powder and she threw her head back with a horrendous scream. Porthos momentarily froze in horror as he watched her fling herself about wildly. He had nothing to go to her aid with, no acimite.

But then Rhaego and Ayelet came charging across the grounds, both of them spewing geysers of fire across the lawn at the stationed soldiers. Savron, Nurim, and Clara came to join the fight as well. Yet even with the dragons, there were too many men on the ground at the gate for four musketeers to hold at bay. They needed to get to a more defensible position…

A raucous series of cries went up from the street, and a moment later the Musketeer cadets came charging through. A gust of wind overhead followed Dragor and Lira swooping in from the compound. Porthos couldn't help but grin at the reinforcements as the city guards were caught off guard and overwhelmed by the cadets.

But there was still the sound of small cannons and powder pouches being launched into the air. Rhaego and Ayelet were doing their best to incinerate anything before it could reach them, but the fact was those soldiers still had plenty of alchemical weapons that could take down the dragons.

Clara slashed a sword at a soldier on her way to Porthos, her eyes alight with fire and fury. "Those weapons need to be stopped."

He gave a clipped nod in agreement. "Shall we?"

She grinned fiendishly back at him. "Let's."

Together they went charging toward the enemy's line of defense.

.o.0.o.

Every thrust and parry tugged at open wounds, but Athos couldn't allow himself to falter. He spun and lunged with none of his poise and grace, but as a man fighting desperately to remain standing.

He caught sight of Boudier bolting for the open gate into the city, no doubt having decided to cut his losses and make a run for it. Athos refused to let him get away one more time and charged after him.

"Boudier!"

The man skidded to a stop and spun, throwing his sword up just as Athos caught up to him. The impact reverberated down Athos's arm, but he shoved his whole body weight forward, forcing Boudier to stumble back a step. Athos swiped his sword, which the mercenary barely deflected. Boudier drew his dagger and attacked with two blades while Athos only had the one, and he had to work twice as fast parrying strikes from both blades. He finally thrust his sword up, catching the hilt of the dagger and torquing it sharply so that Boudier's arm twisted too far. The man cried out and was forced to drop the blade. Athos then spun around and rammed the point of his sword straight into the man's chest.

Boudier finally stopped and blinked at him in confusion. Then his eyes rolled back and Athos yanked his sword free. Exhaustion was dragging him down and he doubled over to put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. When he straightened, he froze to find Magnier several feet away, pointing a pistol at him. The governor's face was puce colored and he was leaning heavily against a wagon, his arm trembling. But even so, at that distance he wasn't likely to miss.

An impact vibration shook the ground as Savron slammed down beside the governor. The man shrieked and tried to scramble backward, but the blue silverback snapped his jaws around Magnier and abruptly snuffed out his squealing.

There were other screams as more men fell to the dragons. Athos saw the Duke retreating toward his army. A horn blew, calling his dragons back to reform the line as well. Only two responded, the other two having been slain by Clara's dragons.

But the Musketeers and their allies were still far outnumbered, and Athos didn't know how much longer they could withstand the onslaught.

Then a bronze beetle buzzed past his head, and he went rigid in alarm. But it hadn't come from the direction of the Duke and his forces, but the opposite. Athos turned, his heart dropping into his stomach as a whole swarm rose up from the garrison and then went shooting off toward the invading army. He watched in stunned stupefaction as the bugs overwhelmed the soldiers and their screams replaced the sounds of gun and cannon fire.

That left the city guards and the Musketeers still fighting, and while Athos had no idea what to make of the beetles attacking the Duke, he wasn't going to let the distraction cost them, and so he plunged back into the battle. He saw d'Artagnan fighting Lahaye and Aramis struggling to fight off adversaries still going for the Queen. Athos pushed through the melee to reach them.

As he and Aramis stood between the Queen and the mutinous city guards, d'Artagnan bore down on their captain with relentless fury. In a few deft moves, he ran Lahaye through. D'Artagnan then spun around with a raging bellow.

"Who's next!"

But with the army overrun with supernatural beetles and their leaders slain, the city guards finally began to throw down their arms. Savron began herding them into one place where he could keep a watch on them.

The Musketeers slowly lowered their weapons and watched with trepidation as the beetle swarm arched up and away from the enemy soldiers, who now mostly lay in heaps on the ground. Some could be seen retreating into the distance. Athos tensed as the beetles veered back toward the palace, but instead of attacking, they came to land in a pile on the lawn and then went still.

"Um…" d'Artagnan said nervously.

"They're dormant," a new voice said in the ensuing silence.

Athos gaped in disbelief as Ninon walked out, holding the alchemist box with the crystals glowing in its slots.

"Sorry for not giving any warning," she said. "There wasn't exactly time."

Athos just stared at her, flabbergasted. "How…?"

"When I heard an army had taken over the palace, I thought you could use some help," she replied.

The Queen was also gaping at her with wide eyes. "Ninon?"

Ninon grimaced and looked at the box in her arms. "Your Majesty. This probably looks bad considering I had once been accused of witchcraft."

"Ninon is on our side," Aramis quickly interjected.

"And she's not a witch," Athos felt compelled to add.

The Queen continued to look shocked, but she slowly shook herself out of it. "We owe you a great deal of thanks." Her attention was diverted as Aramis swayed next to her, and she reached out to support him.

Ninon set the alchemist box down on the grass and hurried to Athos's side, wincing at his appearance as she also offered a bracing shoulder.

Porthos and Clara made their way across the grounds toward them.

"What the hell was wit' those bloody bugs again?" Porthos exclaimed. "Didn't we burn them all?"

"Magnier had a second shipment coming in," Ninon explained. "I convinced the merchant I was his courier and took possession of it."

Athos arched an impressed brow at her, then nodded to Porthos. "And what about your little dragon army?"

Porthos gestured to Clara. "It was all her. Your Majesty, this is Clara."

Clara gave an awkward curtsey.

"My son," Anne said urgently.

"He's safe," Porthos assured her. "He's with Constance and the rest of Clara's dragons. We'll send for 'em once we're secure here."

The Queen nodded and looked around at the musketeers, her gaze settling on Aramis with obvious concern. "You all need medical attention."

"After we've secured the palace and grounds," Athos said. He called some cadets over. "Begin rounding up those still alive. Have the dragons help you."

Luca nodded.

"How'd you get out here, anyway?" d'Artagnan asked. "Lahaye said you'd all been captured."

"Monsieur Bonacieux helped us escape after he heard about the public execution."

Athos was still thinking strategically. "Get the main gate closed. I want the area locked down."

"My dragons will stay and help stand guard," Clara said.

He inclined his head toward her in gratitude.

Ninon lightly squeezed his arm. "Athos, it's over. The army is gone, and after that little display of horrors, any who survived will think twice about trying again. You've won. Now let yourself be tended to before you collapse."

He sighed, the waning adrenaline leaving him utterly exhausted and the pain rearing its head tenfold. Aramis and d'Artagnan looked in equally bad shape. He nodded his own surrender, shoulders sagging. He supposed he could afford to delegate.

Porthos gave him a stern look that also brooked no argument, so Athos gave in and let Ninon take half his weight as they turned to head for the palace.

The battle was won.