A/N: Thank you LordLady, Undertheoaktrees, beeblegirl, jamepa, pallysAramisRios, and SnidgetHex for reviewing! I did say cliffhangers, though I don't think the rest of these chapter endings are as cliffhangery as the first one. Others might disagree which is why I was being conservative by saying there was more than one, lol.

Chapter 2

Athos stood in the middle of the woods, clutching Aramis's hat in one hand and his witch tracker in the other. The arrows swung idly in aimless directions. Worry tightened Athos's gut; he had no doubt his ex-wife had taken Aramis, and he feared what she had in store for him.

He turned and walked over to where d'Artagnan was doing his best to check over Rhaego's wounds. "Can you track Aramis's scent?" Athos asked the dragon, holding out his rider's hat.

Rhaego brushed his snout over the brim and feathers, then lifted his head and sniffed the air a few times. He faltered for a moment, then sniffed again. Finally, his expression pinched in regret and he ducked his head.

"Magic," Porthos muttered.

"The dragons could try tracking that instead," d'Artagnan suggested.

Ayelet let out a sharp bark and bobbed her head eagerly.

It was all they had to go on, so they climbed onto their dragons' backs and let them take the lead. At first, it seemed as though none of them could agree on which way to go, and they exchanged a series of chuffs and snorts that the musketeers of course couldn't follow. But finally they appeared to come to a consensus and headed off in the same direction.

Even so, their progress was slow, periodically stopping to sniff the air and adjust course. The longer it took, the more Athos's stomach churned. He didn't even know whether the dragons had a solid scent they were tracking or if they were simply doing their best in a hopeless situation.

"Hey," d'Artagnan called out. "My witch tracker's working again."

Athos looked down to check his, and sure enough, it was pointing ahead in the direction the dragons were heading.

Savron craned his neck to look over his shoulder, and Athos nodded to him to keep going.

They pressed on, the dragons lumbering through the forest until the tree line broke up ahead to give way to a small parcel of land and the ruins of an old church. The sun was just sinking below the horizon, casting long shadows that devoured everything in the small clearing and gave notches in the stone wall the appearance of black horns.

"Place gives me the shivers," Porthos muttered.

Rhaego straightened sharply and let out a gurgling noise toward the building.

"Is Aramis in there?" d'Artagnan asked urgently.

Athos slid out of the saddle without seeing the answer; he had no doubt that's where their brother was.

"Athos," d'Artagnan said in warning, "it could be a trap."

"I know," he replied. "But I'm going inside."

"We all will," Porthos was quick to affirm as he dismounted from his dragon.

D'Artagnan also leaped down from his saddle, then moved around to face Ayelet. "You're too big now to follow us inside, so wait out here and watch for any signs of the witch or more of those demons. And be careful." He took a moment to capture her snout in his hands and give her a stern look in the eyes.

She nudged his shoulder with her nose, communicating the same to him.

Athos looked at Savron, and they exchanged a sober understanding. Milady was not to be underestimated.

His dragon backed up a few steps and then flapped his wings to leap into the air where he rose to circle the site from above. With Vrita, Ayelet, and Rhaego surrounding the church on the ground, the musketeers ventured inside.

Athos didn't bother drawing a weapon; he knew they were of no use against a sorceress. He frankly had no plan of attack against her—or hopes that any would even succeed—but Aramis was in here, and he had to try.

Candles were lit all throughout the main hall of the church, proving it was not, in fact, abandoned. Bowls and bushels of dried flowers were on the altar at the opposite end of the room, but there was no sign of Milady, or Aramis. Dead leaves crunched underfoot as Athos cautiously made his way down the aisle, Porthos and d'Artagnan close behind him.

All the candle flames suddenly bent the same direction, scattering the shadows from one end of the church, and Athos stiffened as a figure suddenly became illuminated, standing near the confessional. Milady.

"Hello, Athos," she greeted.

His chest tightened at the sound of her voice, deceptively soft like it had been once upon a time. But while his body may remember the pain of their past love, his mind knew better.

"Where's Aramis?" Porthos growled.

Athos cast a quick glance around the church again, fearing their brother was lying in a dark corner somewhere. But there wasn't a human sized lump anywhere along the edges.

Milady gave them a simpering moue and raised a hand over her shoulder in a beckoning gesture.

Aramis stepped out from behind the confessional and came to stand at her side. Athos's breath stole from his lungs—Aramis's eyes were solid opaque orbs of black marble.

Milady caressed his arm as she tilted a sultry look up at him. "He's quite handsome," she remarked. "I can see why all the women of Paris fall for him."

Aramis didn't react at all to her words or touch. His gaze was hollow, expression empty.

"Aramis?" Porthos called with a slight tremor in his voice. Aramis didn't respond.

Milady gave them all a smug smirk. "He belongs to me now."

"What did you do to him?" Porthos snarled.

"I bound his soul to me," she replied casually. "Now he will do anything I want. My own personal knight. Well, black knight." She reached up to run her fingers down his cheek, then brought his chin down to kiss him. And Aramis let her.

Athos felt sick.

Porthos drew his sword and started toward them, but Aramis smoothly stepped around Milady, planting himself between her and Porthos, and drew his own blade. Porthos faltered.

"Aramis, no. This isn't you."

There was no way to tell if there was any recognition in those dead, black eyes. And Athos felt a paralyzing chill seize his heart at the thought that Aramis was dead, and this was just a reanimated revenant like Milady had raised in the past.

"He won't listen to you," Milady declared gleefully as she stepped out from behind him. "I told you, he's mine now." She turned her gaze to Aramis. "Kill them."

Aramis launched himself at Porthos, who barely threw his blade up in time to block. Aramis bore down on him with vicious ferocity the likes of which they'd never seen in their friend.

"Aramis, no!" d'Artagnan shouted, but of course it made no difference.

Porthos scrambled backward until he was about to back himself into the wall, at which point he was forced to defend himself. He parried a strike, then another, then darted under the next swing and scrabbled away. "Aramis, come on," he pleaded. "It's me!"

Aramis spun and charged again. But unlike when Milady had cursed d'Artagnan into being her puppet, Aramis was a fully brutal, mindless fighting machine.

D'Artagnan whipped out his sword and plunged into the fight, executing only defensive moves as he fought to help Porthos keep their brother at bay.

Athos skirted around them, waiting for an opening, and then rushed Milady, who had been watching the skirmish with large, hungry eyes. He grabbed her by the arms and slammed her against the confessional. "Undo it!" he demanded. "Take me instead!"

She wasn't fazed at all and simply cackled. "You will either have to let yourself die at the hand of your brother…or slay him yourself."

He tightened his grip and shook her, his own body vibrating with fury.

"Athos!" d'Artagnan yelled.

He whirled just as Aramis came charging at him and had to scramble away as a blade swished through the air where he'd been standing. Having no choice, he drew his sword and parried the attacks Aramis rained down on him. He'd sparred with Aramis plenty of times, knew the marksman's flair and flourish like the steps of a well-practiced dance. This was nothing like that. It was relentless and savage, and Athos could see by the demonic look in those black eyes that Aramis would slaughter him at the first opening. It was kill or be killed, just as Milady had said.

But Athos couldn't do it, couldn't slay his brother.

Porthos barreled in and threw his arms around Aramis from behind, trying to restrain him. Athos took the moment to move in and wrench his sword from his hand. Aramis thrashed and kicked, refusing to be subdued. He slammed his head back into Porthos's face, causing the larger musketeer to stagger back and lose his grip. Aramis whipped out his dagger and lunged at Athos, who managed to catch Aramis's wrist midair. The force of his momentum drove Athos back until he hit the altar, knocking over the witch's supplies. The point of the dagger angled down toward his throat as Athos grappled with Aramis, trying to keep it from piercing his jugular.

D'Artagnan finally rushed in and slammed the pommel of his sword into the back of Aramis's head, and the marksman crumpled. Athos staggered as he fell against him, the dagger still caught between their two grips. Athos prized it out of now lax fingers and Aramis slid to the floor, unconscious.

The three musketeers stood in a suspended moment of shock, chests heaving, pulses racing. Athos raised his head and exchanged harried looks with Porthos and d'Artagnan. Then he noticed the silence and craned his neck around to scan the church. Milady had disappeared. Again.

Athos clenched his fists and looked down at Aramis, his heart cracking at the knowledge of what his ex-wife had done to him. He knelt down and rolled Aramis onto his back, patting him down for a token that could be the focus of the curse. But he didn't find anything out of the ordinary. And without a token to destroy, they had no idea how to break the spell he was under.

Athos slowly stood. "We should get him out of here," he said, voice hollow. Looking around, he spotted some rope along the other wall and walked over to get it.

"What are you doin'?" Porthos asked, shoulders stiffening defensively.

"The same thing we had to do with d'Artagnan," Athos replied, shooting the young Gascon a look.

D'Artagnan's throat bobbed, but he nodded in grim understanding and moved to help Athos bind Aramis's hands and feet.

"Tighter," Athos instructed him as he cinched his own knots around Aramis's wrists.

A muscle in d'Artagnan's jaw ticked, but he wordlessly proceeded to tighten the ropes.

With the marksman now secure, Porthos bent down and hefted Aramis over his shoulder, and then they made their way back outside to where the dragons were waiting. Athos had figured Milady had evaded them, given there'd been no sounding of the alarm from one of them.

Rhaego rushed over in alarm at the sight of his rider, but just as he reached them, the russet dragon abruptly reeled back with a shriek, flinging his head back and forth like he wanted to come closer yet didn't want to.

Porthos tensed in alarm and laid Aramis on the ground. "Rhaego? What's the matter?"

Savron inched closer and looked at Aramis, then furrowed his forehead. Athos's heart sank further.

"They can smell the dark magic," he surmised.

"So what do we do?" Porthos asked. "How do we break the curse?"

"We can't."

Porthos shook his head staunchly. "No, there's gotta be something. Just like before."

"You didn't find a token?" d'Artagnan checked.

"No. I suspect this magic is…deeper." He didn't know how it worked, but binding Aramis's soul didn't sound like a simple spell that could be undone with the snapping of a clay marker.

A grave silence settled over them under the heaviness of night.

"We should get 'im back to the garrison," Porthos said gruffly.

"No," Athos objected. "I don't want to take Aramis back to the city like this and risk the King or Rochefort hearing what happened. They might want Aramis executed immediately for being…possessed."

Porthos's eyes widened at the notion, then hardened as he shifted closer to their friend. "I won't let that happen," he vowed.

"What about Agnes?" d'Artagnan brought up. "This is a magic problem and we need magical help."

Athos furrowed his brow in thought. Agnes was someone they could trust.

"Do you think she'd still be at her cabin in the woods?" d'Artagnan went on.

"I don't know," he answered. "But we can head out there in the morning. For now, we should get away from this place and find a safe spot to camp for the night."

As if there was such a thing with Milady out there. And while they had successfully retrieved Aramis, Athos suspected they had yet to extract him from her clutches.