A/N: Thank you beeblegirl, pallysAramisRios, Fleuramis, SnidgetHex, and Lia Whyteleafe for reviewing! I'm glad you liked this episode. ^_^

Chapter 5

Athos wrapped Milady's body in his cloak and tied her to the back of the saddle on Savron's back. It was over. Part of him grieved—the part of him that remembered the woman he'd fallen in love with all those years ago. Even though it had all been a lie.

He turned to d'Artagnan. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw you leave and figured where you were going. So Ayelet and I followed." D'Artagnan crossed his arms and gave him a sardonic look. "And turns out my suspicions were right."

Athos sighed, but then offered the lad a wan quarter smile. "Thank you."

D'Artagnan nodded sagely. "I'm sorry you were the one to do it."

Athos's gaze drifted toward the bulk draped over Savron's back. "I'm not."

He had meant it when he'd said this was his responsibility. And not because he was responsible for what Anne had become, but because he was a musketeer, and he was Captain. It was his duty to protect the King, France, and his own men.

With that, they mounted their dragons and flew back to Agnes's cabin. It was dark by the time they arrived, but the bonfire was burning again with Vrita and Rhaego on watch.

Athos untied Milady's body from Savron's back and deposited her on the ground. He hesitated a moment, but Savron gave him a nod; he'd remain on guard until the witch's remains could be properly disposed of.

The cabin door opened just as Athos and d'Artagnan started toward it, and Ninon's shadowed face peered out, awash with amber relief in the firelight. She backed up to let them enter, and everyone looked sharply their direction, particularly Porthos.

"Milady is dead," Athos reported.

Porthos's brow furrowed. "You sure? Because we thought she was dead last time."

"I'm fairly certain," Athos replied, glancing at Agnes in question. "But we'll burn the body as soon as we've presented it to the King as proof that the threat is over." Athos shifted his gaze to Aramis where he was still reclining on the pallet. "You're safe now."

It was an extra moment, but Aramis slowly gave a small nod in return.

Athos turned to Agnes. "If we might impose upon you for one more night, we'll leave at tomorrow's light."

"Of course," she said. "And please, take the floor this time." Agnes gave him a sympathetic look. "No one needs to sleep with the dead."

Athos hesitated, but then nodded.

No, he didn't.

.o.0.o.

Athos slept through the night undisturbed for the first time in months. When he rose the next morning, there was a brief flash of fear that he'd step outside and Milady's body would be gone.

But it was still there, wrapped in his cloak and under the watchful eye of four dragons. That feeling of peace settled a little deeper inside him.

Unfortunately, it was obvious that feeling didn't extend to everyone.

Aramis moved slowly on his way out of the cabin and toward his dragon, his eyes sunken and ringed with dark circles.

"You sure you can ride?" Porthos asked, giving him a concerned look.

"Yes," he responded dully.

Rhaego perked up and nudged Aramis with his nose as he walked past. The marksman absently raised a hand to give him a half-hearted pat in return but didn't even meet his dragon's eye. Rhaego mewled as Aramis pulled himself into the saddle with effort.

Porthos's expression was pinched as he came over to Athos. "He didn't sleep at all last night," he remarked quietly.

And neither did Porthos if he was so certain of that. He was worried; they all were.

"We'll keep an eye on him," Athos said.

He went to retrieve his ex-wife's body and tied her to Savron's back again.

"Thank you," he then said to Agnes, Fleur, and Ninon. "I don't know how I can ever repay you."

"I think we have a mutual stake in coming to each other's rescue," Agnes replied with a quirk of her lips.

Athos inclined his head in agreement.

Ninon stepped forward. "You should visit again. And not only just when circumstances require it."

He didn't really know what to say to that, rendered speechless by her directness once again.

Ninon merely smiled and leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek.

And there really wasn't anything he could say to follow that, so with a canting of his head, he turned and swung up onto his dragon. The four musketeers bid their final farewells before leaping into the air and setting course for Paris.

They all kept an eye on Aramis, who hardly seemed focused on the journey. At least he stayed in the saddle.

Upon their return, Athos steered them toward the palace as their first destination. He knew Aramis should be sent straight to his room at the barracks to rest and recover more, but Athos also felt that he needed this.

They landed outside the Louvre, which of course drew attention. Some palace guards tried to tell them to leave, but Athos snapped at them to send word to the King that they had an urgent matter for him. Fortunately, one of them was young and green enough to dart off and do just that rather than argue with them as the former Red Guard would have done.

It was several minutes before Louis, Anne, Treville, and Rochefort all came out to see them, along with several armed guards, Athos noted.

"Yes, what is it?" Louis asked tersely. "You'd better have good news for me about Milady, Athos."

"I do, Your Majesty." Athos slid the body off Savron's back and moved a few paces forward before setting it on the ground. He pulled the top of his cloak back, revealing a face as white and cold as porcelain.

Louis perked up at that. "Is that her?" he asked tremulously.

"Yes," Athos confirmed. He opened his pouch to pull out some incendie, which he tossed over the body. Then he backed away and gestured to Savron.

The dragon angled his head toward the corpse, his belly lighting up with fulvous veins. Igniting his fire, he belched a stream of it over the body, which lit up in a purple whoosh and pop as the explosive compound amplified the flame's heat. In a matter of seconds, there was nothing left of the witch but ash.

Louis clapped his hands together. "My loyal musketeers have done it; they have slain the wicked witch!"

"I knew they would come through for us in the end," Anne added with a genial smile their way.

Rochefort, on the other hand, stood just slightly behind the royal couple, looking like he'd bitten into a lemon again. Athos locked eyes with him for a moment; they were coming for him next.

"Congratulations," Treville put in. "I can't imagine that had been an easy task." His shrewd gaze roved past Athos and over the others.

Athos turned his head to glance at Aramis, who was staring at the pile of ash numbly.

"No, it wasn't," he replied quietly.

The Queen must have heard him, though. "You've done France a great service," she said for everyone to hear. "I'm sure you could use some time to rest."

"Of course," Louis heartily agreed. "Splendid work."

Athos bowed.

At least they were back in the King's good graces.

.o.0.o.

After returning home, d'Artagnan seemed eager to see Constance; he'd barely gotten Ayelet's saddle off before he was hurrying toward the house, leaving the bags to be unpacked later. Ayelet shrugged to herself and went to find Falkor so she could tell him of their victory. The evil witch that had been tormenting their riders was finally dead.

He took the news with his usual taciturnity. Good, he said. But at least there was a thread of what Ayelet might interpret as pride in his tone.

Encouraged, she went on to tell him that she'd met some witches who weren't evil at all. They'd even helped them by providing shelter and aid.

Falkor bared his teeth at that. There were no good witches, he growled.

But they saved Aramis, and there was a magical creature there as well, a firebird. It trusted them.

Falkor got to his feet and snapped his jaws. Hadn't she learned anything? Humans were forbidden from touching magic.

Ayelet faltered. But if they used magic for good, then why was that bad?

Because it was! he snarled.

She recoiled from his explosive temper, completely bewildered by it. Sure, he'd been prickly before, but this was the first time Falkor was unsettling her. She inched backward and started to leave.

He begged her not to go, his tone abruptly apologetic. He was sorry for snapping at her. They should just drop this line of conversation and talk about something else.

Ayelet hesitated. But he'd never asked her to stay and talk with him before. That was progress, right? Still, she was a tad uneasy as she sat back on her haunches and curled her tail around her legs. She asked what he'd like to talk about instead.

He lay back down and asked her to recount the tale of the witch's death to him.

That she could do, and as she got caught up in the telling, her previous unease was all but forgotten.

.o.0.o.

Aramis sat in his room, chair pushed up against the window, his head resting against the frame as he gazed listlessly through the pane. His breath fogged up the glass, ebbing and flowing like waves of white frost. Even wrapped in a blanket, he was chilled down to his marrow, and the pale winter sky with its muted sun was doing little to help. He'd felt a bone-deep cold before, after Savoy.

This was different, though. This one touched his very soul.

There was a knock at the door but he barely registered it. A moment later it opened and Athos entered, letting in a brisk influx of air that triggered gooseflesh up Aramis's arms, even tucked under the blanket as they were. He curled further into the woolen fabric.

Athos shut the door and walked over to sit in the other chair across from him. He set a bottle of wine on the table next to the Bible Aramis hadn't been able to open.

"I thought this might help with some of the chill."

Aramis slid his gaze along the bottle but couldn't bring himself to reach for it. He couldn't go there, couldn't let his faculties start to slip, start to lose control of himself like when he'd…

Bile rose in the back of his throat and he turned away, squeezing his eyes shut. It was several long moments before Athos spoke, and Aramis had almost forgotten he was there.

"I don't know how to fix this," he said quietly.

Aramis didn't respond; he didn't know how to fix it either. He didn't know how to reconcile what he'd gone through with what he thought he'd believed in. He'd been in the Void, completely cut off from everything and everyone…even God.

"She is dead, Aramis." Athos leaned forward earnestly. "She will never come after any of us again."

His hand drifted up to rub at his sternum. "I've had faith in God my entire life," he murmured. "Devoted myself to His Word, to prayer, to charity. I believed my soul belonged to him." His fingers crooked into his shirt, bunching it up as he clutched at his heart where there was an ache so deep he couldn't reach it. "Come to find that Evil can snatch it out of His hand just like that."

Tears welled in his eyes as he lifted his gaze to Athos, knowing his friend didn't understand, didn't share his level of faith in God to know why this was so agonizing for him.

"I know what Hell is, now," he continued brokenly.

Athos's expression pinched as he gazed back at him. "It's over, Aramis. Your soul is free."

He shook his head. Athos didn't understand. His soul was supposed to be secure by the Blood of the Lamb and Aramis's faith. But on a witch's whim, she'd taken that from him, corrupted him with her evil. He could still feel remnants of it, like worms writhing inside him. And there was no comfort to be found from God.

Aramis had never felt so alone, so abandoned.

He let out a derisive snort. "This must be what Emilie felt when we took her God from her."

"Aramis…"

"Just—" he interrupted. "Just let me rest."

Athos nodded sadly and stood up to leave. He paused at the door before opening it and said, "We need to start planning how we'll deal with Rochefort. Soon."

Aramis's throat tightened and he didn't say anything right away, gaze going out the clouded window again. He was a musketeer, he reminded himself. Even if a broken one, but that wasn't really new for him, so he drew in a shaky breath and turned to meet Athos's gaze.

"I'll be there."

A/N: Yes, the witch is dead. ;)

NEXT TIME

Rochefort finally professes his love to the Queen, but when she rejects him, he snaps and sets off a campaign to destroy her.