A/N: Thank you BrokenKestral, Undertheoaktrees, pallysd'Artagnan, Lexi, LadyWallace, and 29Pieces for your reviews! BrokenKestral, you pretty much got it in the mark, lol.

Chapter 4

The wind buffeted Athos's face as Savron soared toward the mountains. He didn't know where to even begin searching. He could do a grid by grid flyover of the entire range and still never find any sign of d'Artagnan.

Athos's heart clenched with grief. He had been the one to suggest d'Artagnan come on this mission with them. How many had the boy accompanied them on before he'd even gained his commission? He was young and brash but capable. Athos saw potential in him from the start. Why, after he'd finally become a musketeer, did it have to be so cruelly cut short?

Savron let out an abrupt trumpet call and banked suddenly. Athos stiffened in alarm, eyes sweeping the horizon for signs of the wild dragon. But there was no other winged creature in the sky with them. There was, however, a lone figure staggering out from the tree line below. Athos's breath caught in his throat.

Savron made a dive for the earth, and the figure slowed to a stop. It was d'Artagnan, clothes rumpled and drenched in sweat, his hair hanging lanky and damp down the sides of his face, but he appeared whole. Savron landed and Athos hastily unhooked his anchor line to jump from the saddle. He looked the boy over incredulously and shook his head.

"You're alive."

"You sound surprised," the young Gascon replied cheekily.

"You were carried off by a wild dragon," Athos pointed out.

"But you still came looking for me."

"Was that ever in doubt?"

D'Artagnan gave him a small smile. "No."

Athos shook his head again and moved closer to clap the boy on the back. "What happened?"

D'Artagnan's face fell. "I killed the dragon."

He drew his sword hilt from his belt, only a nub of the broken blade still attached. Athos could imagine the type of strike he would have had to make to shatter the acimite like that.

"You did well."

D'Artagnan shook his head at the praise. "I shouldn't have had to do it," he said angrily. "It wasn't the dragon's fault it was poisoned."

"You had no choice," Athos replied.

D'Artagnan didn't look appeased. He shifted his body, pulling aside the fold of his vest to reveal what was bulging underneath. Athos's brows rose in surprise. Savron inched closer to take a look.

"I couldn't leave it there," d'Artagnan said. "Not after I'd killed its mother."

Athos nodded sagely. "You had no choice," he repeated.

D'Artagnan's jaw tightened. "I still regret that it came to that."

"That's what makes you a good man."

"Do you think I can keep it?" d'Artagnan asked tentatively. "If it hatches…?"

Athos shrugged. "There is no one else's claim on it. Though raising a dragon isn't easy."

A small smile tugged at the boy's mouth. "Good thing I'm married to a dragon keeper."

Athos shook his head in amusement and sheer relief that he hadn't lost another younger brother. "Come on, we should get back. You should also know that we caught the alchemist responsible. He was killed attempting to poison Savron and Vrita."

D'Artagnan jerked sharply. "Wait, what?" He threw a concerned look at Savron.

"He failed," Athos assured him. "Everyone's fine." He climbed back onto Savron and offered d'Artagnan a hand up since he was cradling the egg protectively.

"Did you discover why he was doing it?"

"He may have been a Spanish agent, but aside from that, no. We'll likely never have the answer to why."

D'Artagnan seemed to sober at that. They clipped the anchor lines to their belts, and Savron leaped into the air, taking them back to the others.

.o.0.o.

The knots around Rhaego's muzzle were too tight for Aramis to undo one-handed, and he felt a warring sense of outrage at the others and understanding of why they'd had to do it. Porthos wordlessly wedged himself in next to Aramis and began to untie the russet dragon himself. Aramis scooted back to give them room, not feeling well enough to stand after he'd sunk to his knees. Rhaego's gaze followed Porthos as he worked his way around the multitude of ropes and chains, eyes uncertain and confused. When he was finally free, he slowly sat up, then leaned toward Aramis to sniff his wounded shoulder.

Aramis couldn't help the instinctive recoil to protect his injured side. Rhaego's expression pinched. He swung a look at Vrita, taking in her wounds, and then he crawled backward and curled into a ball, folding a wing over his face. Aramis's heart constricted.

"You remember then?" he asked sadly.

His dragon attempted to burrow more deeply under his wing. Aramis threw a helpless look at Porthos and Vrita.

"It wasn't your fault," he insisted. "I don't blame you for what happened."

Rhaego ignored him.

"Will you at least look at me?" Aramis pleaded.

Nothing.

Vrita shuffled forward and nudged the obstinate dragon. Rhaego only tried to curl in on himself more.

"Rhaego." Aramis sighed and rubbed his face with his good hand. Pain and exhaustion were taking their toll.

"We should do this later," Porthos suggested.

"No." Aramis was not leaving his dragon to wallow in self-recrimination and shame. "Rhaego, look at me," he commanded more sharply.

His dragon shifted slightly, just enough to peek out from under his wing.

"I know you would never intentionally hurt me. We were both victims of malicious scheming. But we can't let someone else's evil designs destroy us."

Rhaego drew his head out and looked back at Aramis forlornly. A whimper of apology and guilt rumbled in his throat. Aramis reached out his hand, holding it halfway to let Rhaego close the distance himself. His dragon squinted, gaze flicking to his wounded shoulder.

"I'm sorry about that," Aramis said. "I'm just sore right now. You know how when you're injured you don't want anyone prodding at the wound, even if it's gentle. I do trust you."

Rhaego waited for another moment, then cautiously extended his neck to push his nose into Aramis's outstretched hand. Aramis released a breath of tension and growing exhaustion. He really did need to get back to bed…

Rhaego cast a wary glance at Porthos.

"I'm sorry fer hittin' you so hard," Porthos said. "I hadn't wanted to."

Rhaego smacked his jaw as though remembering the blows, but he kept his head lowered in submission.

"Now will you go back ta bed?" Porthos asked, fixing Aramis with a stern glower.

Aramis's lips twitched at how easily his friend could read him. "Yes. Though I might need some help."

Porthos huffed and moved to help Aramis to his feet. The short distance back to the inn seemed much father than when he'd made his way out here.

"Do you think it's safe for them outside?" he asked. "I'd hate to keep them cooped up."

"I guess, as long as they don't go sniffin' anythin'," Porthos replied, slipping a supportive arm around Aramis's back. He cocked his head for Vrita to come with them. They gave the alchemist's body a wide berth as they passed it.

"Rhaego," Aramis called when the younger dragon didn't follow. "Come on, you'll be fine."

Rhaego poked his head out, looking reluctant. But he shuffled out, pausing to bare his fangs at the dead alchemist.

"That field over there," Porthos said, thrusting his chin toward it. "Should be fine."

Vrita chirped then, drawing their gazes toward the sky where Savron was returning. As the silverback drew closer to land, Aramis's heart soared with elation to see d'Artagnan sitting behind Athos in the saddle. Porthos let out a hearty laugh.

"Are you all right?" Aramis asked as d'Artagnan dismounted.

The boy nodded, smiling back at Aramis. "I think I should be asking you that."

"I'm fine."

Porthos snorted.

D'Artagnan smirked. He flicked a look over their shoulders. "Rhaego good?"

Aramis glanced back at his dragon keeping his distance from them. "We're all probably going to be haunted by this for a bit," he admitted. "But he's himself again. And now that you're back in one piece, I'd say it's time to go home."

"No, it's time fer you to go back to bed, remember?" Porthos growled. "Unless you want to face plant in the dirt when I let go."

Aramis wanted to argue that he'd rather go back to Paris and be in Lemay's care, but that wasn't fair to Nouwen, who had done a decent job of saving his life. And the truth was he had pushed himself too hard so soon after being injured, and the prospect of sitting a saddle in flight was somewhat daunting.

"I suppose there's still some things to take care of here," he conceded, earning an exasperated eye roll from Porthos and a fond one from Athos, who stepped in to help support his weight as they made their way back to the inn.

Rhaego let out a whine behind them.

"I'll be fine," Aramis assured him. "We could all use some rest."

Vrita circled back to nudge the younger dragon into following her toward the field. Aramis belatedly remembered he hadn't gotten the chance to see to her or Savron's wounds, but Porthos and Athos had rather unrelenting grips on him as they steered him inside.

"I hope it was worth it," Doctor Nouwen tutted as they entered. "You look like a walking corpse. And that's being generous, since you're barely walking on your own power at all."

At this point Aramis was too tired to argue, not that he had a leg to stand on against the accurate accusation. His friends helped him back to bed and Nouwen checked his wounds, commenting that he was lucky he hadn't pulled any of the needlework.

Aramis just hummed and drifted off with the knowledge that everyone was safe and well, and that was what mattered most.

.o.0.o.

The next day, after Aramis had insisted he could bear the short flight back to Paris, the musketeers arrived at the garrison. D'Artagnan had ridden with the marksman on Rhaego. He'd been surprised when Aramis had suggested it, for Rhaego usually never let anyone else on his back. But Aramis had apparently not wanted the dragon to wallow in isolation, and had admitted he couldn't ride by himself. Rhaego must have been feeling very guilty to not have put up a fuss when d'Artagnan climbed into the saddle.

Porthos came around to help Aramis dismount, then escorted the wounded musketeer to his room. Athos headed off to report to Treville, leaving d'Artagnan to unsaddle the dragons. He didn't mind. Savron and Vrita were always easy. Rhaego, however, was nearly hunched toward the ground when he got to him. D'Artagnan couldn't imagine what he must be feeling, having hurt his rider like that.

"No one blames you, you know," he said quietly.

Rhaego averted his gaze.

"It doesn't make it better," d'Artagnan sighed, thinking of the egg tucked in his bag and the dragon he'd killed whom it belonged to. "But think of all the times you saved Aramis's life. Those are what matter."

Rhaego still didn't look convinced but he at least afforded d'Artagnan a sidelong look. D'Artagnan unbuckled his saddle and pulled it off, releasing the dragon to sulk off to his den. Vrita and Savron followed, practically herding the younger dragon like mother hens. D'Artagnan couldn't help but quirk a smile at how alike to their riders they were.

He put all the tack away and, since he didn't think he was needed, headed home to see Constance. She was out in the yard doing chores when he entered the compound but stopped when she caught sight of him.

"That was fast," she commented, a relieved smile lighting up her features. "What happened? Were you able to drive the dragon out of inhabited areas?"

D'Artagnan's jaw tightened. "No. The dragon had been poisoned with something called dragon's bane that drove it mad. An alchemist was using it to set the dragon on the villages."

Constance's eyes widened in horror. "What?"

"He's dead," d'Artagnan continued, then hesitated. "But so is the dragon."

Constance's expression fell with sadness. "How horrible. Who would do such a thing?"

He shrugged; they had their theories and speculations as to who and why, but it mattered little now.

Constance was eyeing him carefully. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. It was…it was rough. Rhaego got exposed to the dragon's bane and attacked Aramis."

Constance's eyes blew wide in alarm.

"They're both okay now," d'Artagnan rushed to assure her. "Or, well, they'll recover. They might need some time though."

"I should go check on them," Constance said, moving around him to head for the gate.

"There's something else," he said quickly and pulled the bag over his shoulder around to his front. "After I…killed the dragon, I found this." He opened the flap to reveal the egg nestled inside.

Constance let out a soft gasp.

"I figured the least I could do is make sure it got taken care of," he went on. "I mean, it will hatch, won't it?"

Constance reached out to touch the egg, running her hand over the coarse surface. "It should, if properly cared for. Come on."

She led him to one of the outbuildings designated as a nursery, though it hadn't been in use since d'Artagnan had been boarding there. There was a wood burning furnace and a stack of wood ready beside it. Constance started putting kindling in the grate to get it going.

"Put the egg in that cradle over there," she instructed, pointing to a wicker basket lined with hay a couple of feet from the stove. "We need to keep it incubating, but not too hot it ends up getting cooked."

D'Artagnan stiffened at that horrific thought.

Constance just shook her head at him. "It's fine, really."

He set the egg in the nest. "Have you ever hatched a dragon's egg?"

"No, but my father has and he's taught me about the process." She got the fire going and then made some adjustments to the furnace before coming to stand beside d'Artagnan. "I've always wanted to see it though," she said softly. "It should be amazing."

D'Artagnan cast a sly look her way. "Guess this makes us soon-to-be parents, yeah?"

She scoffed at him, but it was in amusement. "I guess it does."

D'Artagnan let himself entertain that thought. Perhaps something good had come out of the tragedy in the mountains.

He was going to have his very own dragon.

NEXT TIME

The Cardinal finds out about Aramis and Adele. His retribution is vicious and deadly.