A/N: Thank you SnidgetHex, beeblegirl, and pallysAramisRios for reviewing the last episode!


Chapter 1

Constance strode down the steps from the Musketeer captain's office as the wagon delivering the garrison's laundered items lumbered into the yard. She nodded a greeting to the driver, then went around to inspect the cart's contents and make sure everything that had been sent out was sent back—bedding, blankets, cadet uniforms. She had a list, which she checked off, then she began to unload the folded items and set them on the nearby table, organizing them into piles depending on where they belonged. Once that was done, she called over some cadets to handle putting everything away. She'd already settled the garrison's account with the launderer, so the driver was free to turn the wagon around and depart.

Constance folded up her checklist and tucked it into the belt around the waist of her dress. She'd file it with the official laundry invoice that was up in the office. Running the garrison had much more paperwork than running the dragon compound did, but other than that it was more or less the same. There were supply orders and organization, keeping the new recruits in line and working. (Most of them behaved better than adolescent dragons.) She'd even been helping the cadets with their training in swordsmanship when she could. She wasn't a master by any means, but she could hold her own in a fight. Besides that, she was the only one available, as every other able-bodied soldier had been away at the front for the past two years.

Every able-bodied, helpful soldier, Constance mentally amended as she caught sight of Captain Lahaye marching into the garrison. He was dressed in the red and black uniform of the City Guard, which was basically just repurposed Red Guard attire that the Governor of Paris had gotten his hands on. His men possessed the same arrogance too.

Constance plastered a genial smile on her face even as she gritted her teeth to keep it there. "Captain Lahaye," she greeted stiffly.

"Madame d'Artagnan," he replied with an air of disdain. "Laundry day, is it?"

She arched expectant brows at him, not deigning to respond.

"Such funds could be better used to provide supplies to the City Guard," he went on.

"I've seen your uniforms spot cleaned and delivered every two weeks," Constance said blithely. "Perhaps you could save some pennies by washing them less frequently."

Lahaye narrowed his eyes. He had been pestering her for months that the Musketeer resources should be allocated to his own men. Constance knew for a fact his regiment was not suffering unduly, and short of an explicit order from the King or First Minister Treville, she wasn't going to shortchange her own strapped regiment.

"You do not know the first thing of running a garrison," he said snidely.

Constance gave him a pointed look and glanced around the yard. "I think I do."

Lahaye sneered. "You're playing house, Madame. There are no soldiers here, whereas I have an actual garrison to maintain."

"As do I. We all have to make do with what we have in these trying times, Captain."

Before he could open his mouth to deride her further, they were interrupted by a large shadow sweeping over them, followed by a gust of air as four dragons came down to land in the yard. Constance was stunned and delighted to see Savron, Vrita, Rhaego, and Ayelet, along with their riders. But…who was riding Rhaego? Constance's eyes widened further when she saw Aramis dismount from the russet dragon.

"Wha—" She couldn't form words as she took them all in.

D'Artagnan swung down off Ayelet and strode toward her, scooping her up in his arms and planting a passionate kiss on her mouth. She hugged back with fervent abandon.

He broke their kiss and dropped his forehead against hers. "God I missed you," he breathed.

She kissed him again, then managed to pull herself away long enough to look at the others. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis were all grinning at the two of them. The first two were dressed in armor, as was expected, whereas Aramis merely had trousers and a blue shirt. All of them had longer hair and beards than last she saw of them those two long years ago.

Constance smiled brightly at Athos and Porthos as she made her way toward Aramis. "How has this come to be?" she asked in amazement.

"Long story," Porthos replied, still grinning.

She could imagine. "And what are you all doing here?" she asked next. "Not that I'm not thrilled to see you." Because she was, immensely. Every few months d'Artagnan would write her a letter that Ayelet would carry back with other official correspondence, but mostly the only confirmation she received that her husband and friends were still alive was Ayelet's reassurance they were whenever she made a stop at the garrison between courier flights.

"You weren't told?" d'Artagnan said. "The King recalled us to Paris because of the birth of the Dauphin."

Constance shook her head. No one had told her, but everyone had been busy. She'd barely gotten a chance to visit with the Queen much since the Dauphin was born, something she regretted.

"So, you're staying?" she asked hopefully.

D'Artagnan beamed. "We are."

That was the best news she'd heard since this war had started.

Lahaye cleared his throat abruptly and strode forward. "Captain Athos, I presume. I'm pleased to finally have someone reasonable to deal with."

Constance crossed her arms and glowered at him.

"I am Captain Lahaye of the City Guard," he went on. "And I am in need of the valuable resources of this garrison, which are not being put to use here with all your men out on the front. Whereas my men are taxed daily trying to maintain order in the city with more and more refugees pouring in. This woman—" He flashed Constance another disparaging glare. "—Has been refusing to cooperate."

Athos arched a mild brow at Constance.

"I've been looking after things while you've been away," she admitted.

Athos shifted his gaze to rove around the yard, which had less supplies than it did in the days when the entire regiment was housed here, and the supplies they did have were being used by the cadets, who at the moment were frozen in awe at the four musketeers and their dragons.

"And you seem to have done an admirable job," Athos remarked. He turned back to Lahaye. "I'll continue to defer to Madame d'Artagnan's judgment on these matters for the time being. The four of us are expected to report to the palace upon our return."

Lahaye's nostrils flared with indignation. "Meanwhile I am having to deal with riots at food distribution centers. I insist you divert some of your armaments to the City Guard."

The musketeers all visibly bristled at the captain's tone. While Constance was happy to have Athos's support, she didn't want to intentionally antagonize Lahaye.

"Now that some dragons have returned, I'm sure we could spare one to provide a supportive presence at the lines," she said. And since she wouldn't be getting any time with her husband just yet, she could go along as well. She turned to Ayelet. "Are you up to accompanying me?"

The white dragon bobbed her head eagerly. She hadn't liked playing messenger most of the time, as it kept her out of the action. Not that Constance expected there to be much action standing guard over a food line.

Lahaye made a derisive sound. "You?" he sneered dubiously.

Constance planted her hands on her hips. "Who else is going to command a dragon? None of your men have any experience with them."

Ayelet bared her teeth at the man. She, like the other dragons, would have immediately picked up on the tension and obvious dislike between the humans, and the dragons would always side with their riders.

Lahaye's jaw ticked. "Fine," he bit out and turned sharply on his heel to storm away.

Constance turned to d'Artagnan and reached out to squeeze his hand, reluctant to depart so soon after their reunion. But he was expected at the palace.

"Later?" he said ruefully.

"Later," she agreed.

Casting one last warm smile at the rest of them, she then turned and walked out of the garrison after Lahaye, with Ayelet taking to the air to follow from above. The streets weren't wide enough for a dragon to traverse on foot, but the square where one of the food distribution centers had been set up had room for her to land. What had once been a thriving marketplace was now a row of wooden tables separating stores of food from a long winding line of bedraggled refugees. The deadened look in so many of their eyes tugged at Constance's heartstrings. This war had been hard on everyone, but the people driven from their homes and who'd lost everything suffered the most.

Lahaye strode over to the tables where his guards were already handing out rations. Ayelet landed off to the side, sending a frightened gasp through many of the citizens. Constance walked over to the white dragon and placed a hand on her snout to show the people there was nothing to fear. The terror didn't leave their eyes, but they were starving and couldn't afford to abandon their place in line.

There were no problems whatsoever, and Constance wasn't sure she could attribute that solely to Ayelet's presence, though a dragon certainly did a good job of keeping people subdued. When a disturbance finally happened, it came from the City Guard side of the line.

"I said no!"

Constance jerked her attention toward where a thin man in fraying clothes stood at the table, practically cowering under a city guard's blistering glare.

"What's the problem here?" Lahaye interjected, marching over.

"This greedy sod wants to take more than his share," the guard sneered in response.

"P-please," the man stammered. "The second is for my wife. She is ill and frail and cannot stand in line for hours. I must bring the food back to her."

"One serving per person," Lahaye said coldly. "Are you going to cause a scene?" he asked, moving his hand to the hilt of his sword.

"Captain," Constance said sharply, storming over. "This man is clearly not threatening anyone."

"Stay out of this," Lahaye snapped at her.

"Don't you have any compassion?" she pressed.

Lahaye's eyes flashed dangerously and he skewered the refugee with a vicious glower. "Perhaps you should leave without getting anything."

Constance bristled with righteous indignation. How dare he? Pushing forward, she snatched two servings of bread off the table and handed them to the frail man. "Go," she urged.

The man's eyes widened, but he didn't look the gift horse in the mouth and quickly hurried away.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lahaye raged, taking a menacing step toward Constance.

Ayelet surged forward, coming up behind her and glaring down at the captain and his men, who all froze under her predatory scrutiny.

"If this is how you run the food distribution, I can see why you have so many problems," Constance snapped.

Lahaye was visibly fuming, but the City Guard weren't armed with acimite and therefore had nothing on a dragon.

Constance held his gaze for a split second longer before turning on her heel and marching back over to her post off to the side. Ayelet followed, taking up a watchful position again.

There were no more disturbances after that, not from the refugees or the city guards. The people continued to flick frightened looks at the dragon in their midst, but there was also curiosity and perhaps a glimmer of tentative hope and gratitude.

Constance suspected Lahaye wouldn't be asking for her assistance again. But she might find a way to fit this into her daily schedule after all.

.o.0.o.

Needing to stretch their legs after so many hours of flying, the musketeers headed to the palace on foot where they were immediately directed to the throne room. D'Artagnan's gaze met Treville's first, and he was taken aback by the amount of silver in the First Minister's beard. The King, likewise, looked markedly different with a full mustache and beard that gave him an older, more distinguished appearance. The Queen was the only one of them who hadn't changed, and remained as radiant as ever, even more so with the swaddled infant in her arms.

"Welcome back," Treville said, acknowledging them all with a pleased smile. His expression faltered for a second on Aramis, though he recovered quickly.

The Queen looked equally surprised. "Aramis," she greeted. "I thought you retired to a monastery."

Aramis bowed low to her and Louis. "I did, Your Majesties, but recent events have shown me I may serve both God and France, and I wished to return."

Louis stood up from his throne and gave an approving nod. "I am pleased. I need trusted men in my circle now more than ever." He swung his arm back to gesture at the Queen and child. "I present my son, Louis Dieudonné."

Anne angled the babe in her arms so they could gaze upon his face. The musketeers all bowed before her and the Dauphin.

"We received word of the compromised supply route," Treville spoke up. "They have since been changed. Did you find those responsible?"

"We did," Athos replied. "Most were killed in battle, but I regret to report that the leader of the bandits escaped." He went on to recount the tale of tracking the stolen powder and meeting Aramis at the monastery, closing with the capture of the Spanish general, Tavares.

"Well," Louis said when Athos was finished. "The loss of the gunpowder is unfortunate, but the capture of the general is most impressive."

Athos inclined his head in acceptance of the compliment.

"I know I chose well in selecting you three to return to protect my son," Louis went on. "And Aramis, of course, now that you are here."

D'Artagnan let out a breath of relief at that. Part of him had been wondering whether their orders would apply to Aramis as well, or if he would be sent back to the front. But fortunately, the Inseparables held.

Louis nodded to Treville, which signaled the end of their audience. Treville gestured for them all to head out.

"We have things to discuss in terms of the Dauphin's protection," the First Minister said in the hallway. "But after you've had some time to rest from your journey. I know how taxing these past few months have been."

D'Artagnan huffed softly. "Try years."

Treville just gave him a wry look. "I'll speak with you tomorrow, Athos. And again, welcome home."

D'Artagnan's chest swelled with elation because yes, they were home.

The four of them headed back to the garrison.

"Everythin's so…different," Porthos remarked.

Indeed, the buildings and walls may have been the same, but many other things had changed. Namely the faces—so many young cadets. And the distinct lack of dragons. D'Artagnan wondered what the dragon compound next door looked like. That was technically his home, though he thought he'd wait for Constance and Ayelet to return before going over and surprising her father, Jean.

But she wasn't back yet, and Aramis and Porthos had gone off to see if their rooms were still available. D'Artagnan figured he'd introduce himself to the cadets, most of whom fumbled over themselves when they learned who he was, and that he was a dragon rider. D'Artagnan wondered if he'd been this starstruck when he'd first met the musketeers and their dragons.

He asked them about their time at the garrison so far and was pleased to hear they thought well of Constance as their acting leader while Athos was away. He then started getting questioned in turn about Captain Athos and how harsh was he? Did they stand a chance under his command?

D'Artagnan assured them that Athos was a fair captain, and if they worked hard, they would do well.

A dragon screech alerted him to Constance's and Ayelet's return. D'Artagnan waved to the cadets and then jogged over to his wife, thrilled to finally have another moment with her.

"How was the rioting?" he asked casually.

Constance scowled darkly.

D'Artagnan frowned. "Wait, was there actual rioting?"

"No. Captain Lahaye and his men are the ones who need a lesson in civility," she said, clearly riled up. She gave herself a sharp shake. "Never mind, I don't want to talk about it right now. Do you have any more duties required of you tonight?"

He grinned. "No. I am all yours. Well, and your father's when we return home."

Constance's eyes took on a mischievous gleam. "Actually, since running the garrison takes up so much time, I may have moved into my own set of rooms here."

D'Artagnan arched his brows. "Is that so?"

"Mm-hmm. Set apart from the cadets for privacy." Her lips quirked. "We can tell my father you're back tomorrow."

Oh, d'Artagnan liked the sound of that. "Lead the way."

Constance could barely suppress her smile as she took his hand and started guiding him toward the barracks. They passed Porthos and Aramis, who looked like they wanted to ask her something, but d'Artagnan cut them off with a raised hand.

"Not tonight," he said firmly.

The two exchanged knowing grins at his expense, but d'Artagnan didn't care. It had been two long, horrible years, and he was going to spend this night in the arms of his beloved wife.