A/N: Thank you SnidgetHex, jamepa, and pallysAramisRios for reviewing!
Chapter 4
Despite Agnes's generous offer, it was far too crowded in her small cabin for three women and four men to sleep, not to mention entirely improper. So, even though it was the middle of December, Athos and d'Artagnan agreed to camp outside with the dragons and a bonfire to keep warm by. Porthos, of course, could not be pulled from Aramis's side.
At least they were between snowfalls, so even though it was frigid, they managed with the bonfire and their altitude cloaks, sheltered under the protective wings of their dragons.
Athos didn't get much sleep, though, and not because of the cold. His thoughts churned and roiled, keeping him awake. Plus he had one ear trained on the cabin in case anything happened during the night.
But all was silent.
The following morning, Agnes opened the door and invited them back inside. The warmth from the cooking fire immediately buffeted Athos's nipped cheeks and sent a shiver down his arms. D'Artagnan gave a sharp shake as well and moved closer to the fire where Ninon was stirring a large pot of what smelled like stew. Aramis was still lying on the pallet under some blankets with Porthos sitting by his side.
Ninon offered them all breakfast, which they took with subdued thanks. The pall of worry for their brother lay heavily over them all and wouldn't dissipate until they knew whether Aramis would be all right.
It was another hour before Porthos perked up at his place of vigil. "He's waking up."
Athos and d'Artagnan immediately moved closer as Aramis lolled his head slightly, face scrunching up as consciousness slowly stirred. Even though Athos had seen the black cloud in his eyes vanish at the end of Agnes's spell, he still held his breath as he waited for those eyes to open again and be back to their normal brown.
Aramis's eyelids groggily peeled open to reveal clouded hickory-colored irises. Squinting, he roved his gaze around the room, confusion furrowing his brow.
Porthos laid a hand on his shoulder. "Aramis?"
The marksman turned his head toward him.
Porthos swallowed hard. "You in there?"
"What?"
Athos nearly sagged at the sound of his voice, however frayed and thin it came out.
"Wh-where are we?"
"You remember Agnes, yeah?" Porthos said, adopting a cheerful tone. He shifted to the side so Aramis could see past him. "We're at her cabin."
Aramis squinted at her for a prolonged moment, then swept his gaze around the room again, his eyes landing on Athos and d'Artagnan. "How…?"
"We needed her help," Athos replied.
D'Artagnan cleared his throat. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Aramis's brows knitted together. Then like a flash of powder, his eyes blew wide and he lurched upright, twisting to the side as he violently retched onto the floor.
"Whoa!" Porthos exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders to brace him.
Several guttural heaves wracked his body as he threw up black bile, which sent a thrill of fear down Athos's spine. When the spasms were over, Aramis went limp, and Porthos gently rolled him back over, scooting in to prop him up in his arms.
Agnes moved in with a cup of steaming tea. "This will help," she said, touching the rim to his lips.
Aramis grimaced but was apparently too weak to fight her off, and she managed to get a few swallows down him. Once she was satisfied, she moved away, and Fleur ducked in with some rags to mop up the puddle of sick.
"I remember everything," Aramis uttered with a shuddering breath.
Athos stiffened. He had been hoping…
"I remember attacking you," Aramis went on, gaze dull and distant. "I remember her casting the spell…remember her voice inside my head. I could feel her, like she had hooked physical claws into my heart…" He reached a hand up to clutch at his chest.
Porthos covered that hand with his and squeezed. "You're free of her now. Agnes broke the curse."
Aramis flicked a haunted look up at him, then away. "She did it once; she could do it again. I couldn't…I couldn't fight it." His chest hitched. "At one point I stopped wanting to. I was hers, wholly, body and soul."
A violent shudder ripped through him and he closed off, trying to roll away from Porthos and curl in on himself. Porthos didn't let him escape his embrace, just shifted his arm so it was still wrapped securely across Aramis's chest, holding him back against Porthos's bulk and warmth.
Athos hated seeing his brother this tormented, and he knew that Aramis wouldn't find peace until Milady was gone for good.
None of them would.
The cabin was heavy with somber silence as the women quietly bustled about their business, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, even though it was the musketeers who were disrupting their lives.
When Agnes headed outside alone, Athos followed. He trailed her around the side of the cabin to where the dragons were lounging. Both of them drew to a stop at the sight of the phoenix standing on Rhaego's back and dropping tears onto some of his many gashes.
"It seems someone had the same idea I did," Agnes remarked, jiggling a pouch in her hand.
The phoenix healed the last of Rhaego's wounds and let out a squawk. Rhaego chirped and spun around, sending the firebird into the air with a flurry of flustered feathers. He let out a throaty call and reared up, pawing excitedly at his old friend. The phoenix swooped in and out around his head in equal excitement. Any other day, Athos might have found the sight amusing.
Agnes turned toward him, expression serious as though she'd sensed why he'd followed her outside.
"How can I defeat a sorceress as powerful as Milady?" he asked.
She hesitated before answering. "I can spell a dagger that will get past any magical warding she may have, but you'll have to get close enough to pierce her heart with it."
Athos nodded gravely. "I can do that."
Agnes regarded him for a long moment, then inclined her head in concession.
They went back inside then, but Agnes left again soon afterward, presumably to get the requested item for Athos. The rest of them remained, loitering around. Fleur was telling d'Artagnan some of the things she's learned since last they saw her. Porthos was sticking close to Aramis, who had a deadened look in his eyes that worried Athos. Ninon brought over a bowl of broth from the stew for him. Aramis ignored her at first, but after some persistent prodding, he finally took it with listless enthusiasm.
Athos waited until Ninon moved away before going over to sit on the floor next to him. "I'm so sorry for everything that's happened," he spoke quietly. For what Aramis had just gone through, for the ghosts of Savoy Milady had inflicted upon him. For all the turmoil she'd wreaked upon their lives by threatening those they held most dear.
Aramis's gaze was distant and fixed on something none of them could see. Athos wasn't even sure he'd heard him. Then his forehead creased and he looked up in alarm.
"A demon attacked Rhaego."
"He's fine," Athos quickly assured him. "The phoenix—do you remember it?—even healed him right up a few minutes ago. They're outside right now scampering around like a bunch of children."
Aramis gazed at him for a prolonged beat, then slid his gaze back down to the bowl of broth.
"Maybe you wanna go outside and see 'im?" Porthos prompted. "He was worried about you."
Aramis didn't respond. He slowly lifted a hand to clutch at his chest again.
"Are you in pain?" Athos asked.
Aramis numbly shook his head. "I don't feel…whole," he murmured.
Athos and Porthos exchanged a worried look over his head, but Porthos quickly squashed it down and put on a more cheerful mien.
"You just need time to recover, regain your strength." He gave a pointed nod to the broth.
Aramis, however, didn't look convinced and continued to rub at his sternum.
Porthos's lips thinned and he turned back to Athos. "When are we headin' back to the garrison?"
"Not just yet," he replied. "I'd like to keep Agnes close for a little longer, just to make sure everything's all right."
Porthos's mouth turned down, but he didn't say anything. It was obvious Aramis wasn't okay, though whether there was anything more Agnes could do, Athos didn't know, and he didn't really expect there was. But there was another matter she was helping him with, one he wanted to take care of before they returned to Paris.
And since he didn't want any questions about it, Athos slipped outside again to wander the property in privacy. Until he came upon Ninon in the garden picking vegetables. It would have been easy to turn around and disappear behind the cabin, to make his way into the woods where no one would find him for a while.
But he didn't. Instead, he made his way over to her.
"Can I help?" he asked.
Ninon looked up at him with a soft smile and gestured for him to have at it.
He knelt on the ground and started examining the produce on the vine for ones that were ripe and ready to be picked.
"I suppose your ex-wife is why you swore off romance," she said after a few minutes.
His hands stilled in their task.
"My apologies," she said quickly. "I should not have brought it up."
Athos rocked back on his haunches. "Yes, she is."
Ninon looked away and went back to picking squash.
"Are you happy here?" he asked, not sure where the question had come from but following through nonetheless. "Going from a Comtesse to this simple living had to be an adjustment."
It had been for him, but he'd been intentionally punishing himself.
"It was," she agreed. "But this life has given me what I've always cherished—my freedom."
Yes, there was a freedom in renouncing one's title. My, they had a lot in common. In another life, they might have been suitable for each other.
"And I'm happy to see Fleur flourishing," Ninon went on. "Agnes has taught her how to control her magic."
"I'm glad to hear it," Athos said.
They fell silent after that, having picked enough vegetables to begin a stew for that night. Athos picked up the basket to carry inside but was stopped by Agnes returning and catching his eye, beckoning him over. He gave Ninon an apologetic look as he passed her the basket. Her expression was one of understanding as she went inside to give them privacy.
Agnes handed him a jeweled athame. "I've blessed it," she said. "It will pierce any magical shield the sorceress may have."
Athos examined the pristine silver sheen of the blade and nodded his thanks.
Agnes pulled a necklace with a medallion strung on the cord from her pocket. "And this will protect you against magical interference."
He leaned his head forward so she could place it around his neck. The amulet settled against his chest. "Thank you. If the others ask, tell them I had something to take care of."
Agnes didn't look pleased by that part, but she nodded in understanding. "Godspeed."
Athos nodded; he didn't exactly believe, but he'd need it.
Armed with the dagger and amulet, he walked out to the rear of the cabin to where Savron was waiting. The silverback perked up at his approach, ever able to read his mood without him saying anything.
Athos paused and laid a hand on his dragon's snout. "This is a dangerous mission, my friend," he said soberly.
Savron dipped his head in understanding and support. As if there were any doubt he would bear his rider into this danger.
Athos mounted up and they took to the skies, flying back toward the abandoned church.
It was getting late in the evening when they arrived, a small breeze scattering crinkled up husks of leaves across the ground. The air was crisp and Athos's breath came out in puffs of white. Barren tree branches crooked gnarled fingers toward the deepening gloaming. The church was dark and shrouded in shadows again.
Athos slid down from the saddle and took a moment to stand at his dragon's side, one hand on Savron's shoulder, the other surreptitiously reaching to feel the jeweled dagger tucked at his back. He drew in a breath to steel himself. How many times had he faced off with his ex-wife? He had to make sure this was the last.
"Show yourself!" he bellowed to the eerie woods, once again banking on the fact that she would expect him to return. They knew each other too well.
A gust of wind kicked up a swirl of leaves and dust, and almost out of thin air, Milady stepped out from behind a tree. Her long black cloak trailed behind her like waves of ink as she strode toward him, expression set in cold fury.
"You broke my spell," she said, voice tight and angry. "How?"
"Does it matter?"
She gave a flippant toss of her head as though trying to appear unbothered. "No. I can just lay claim to Aramis's soul again. Or perhaps d'Artagnan's." Her lips curved upward in malice. "I can play this game for eternity."
"You will never lay a hand on any of them ever again," he said.
She smirked. "You can't stop me, Athos." She stalked closer, then pulled up short and her brows rose in apparent surprise. "Well, well," she tutted, eyes on the amulet around his neck. "You've found yourself a witch, I see. I assume that's who saved poor Aramis? Not that she could be anywhere near as powerful as I am."
Athos held himself stiffly as she moved forward again. Savron growled low in his throat and she spat a Latin word at him that made him flinch away from Athos a step.
Two black demons suddenly came swooping in to surround him, and Savron spun and shrieked as they snapped at his heels, hemming him in.
"Savron!" Athos barked. To anyone else it would have sounded like fear, but his dragon forced himself to remain still and not engage. Let Milady think she had the upper hand.
With Savron reined in, Milady closed the distance and lashed a hand out to seize Athos by the throat. He started reaching for the dagger…
Milady uttered another word, and suddenly Athos's limbs felt like they were ensconced in a mire. She grabbed the amulet and yanked it off, tossing it away. Then it wasn't even like he was stuck in mud, but fully paralyzed as he stood there and she tightened her fingers around his neck.
Savron screeched, but the demons hissed and chittered, keeping him at bay.
Milady gave Athos a simpering moue. "Did you come here to kill me?"
He gritted his teeth, trying to get his arm to move.
She laughed. "We're bound together, you and I. You know there can be no peace for either of us, until we are both dead."
Sweat broke out upon his brow with the intensity of his exertion, though still his body wouldn't respond. Then Athos heard d'Artagnan shout his name, and Ayelet came swooping down and pounced on one of the demons. At the same moment, d'Artagnan charged out from behind a tree and fired his pistol.
Milady threw her other hand up and deflected the bullet. Then she flung her arm out and d'Artagnan was lifted off his feet and thrown through the air. But the distraction was enough; Athos managed to get his fingers around the hilt, and with that physical contact, he felt strength surge back into his arm.
Milady turned back to him, and Athos plunged the dagger into her heart. Her eyes blew wide in shock and she looked down. Athos's own heart clenched with regret for so many things…but this wasn't one of them.
He gave the dagger a deft twist. A startled gasp spilled from her lips as Milady staggered back, the blade still in her heart. She lifted her gaze to Athos one last time, but there was nothing of the woman he'd once loved there. Then she crumpled.
Several yards away, the demons squealed as Savron and Ayelet finished them off.
D'Artagnan hobbled over, skirting around Milady's body cautiously. "Is she really dead?"
Athos closed his eyes for a moment and breathed. "Yes."
She was wrong; he was still alive, and he did feel peace.