Chapter Text
Aramis sat alone in the garrison yard, at the table situated under the captain's office. From his position he could see the comings and goings through the main archway but was just enough out of the way that no one bothered him. There were plenty of other places and tables around the garrison for musketeers to congregate, particularly in the open space in the back near the dragon dens, which Aramis no longer had reason to visit.
He sat quietly with head bowed over his pistols as he cleaned and oiled them. Porthos and Athos were away on a mission, and since Aramis was no longer a dragon rider, he had not been assigned to go with them. The three "Inseparables" had become two.
It had been a year and six months since the massacre at Savoy where twenty musketeers and two dragons had been slaughtered, including Aramis's dragon. He had chosen not to pair with another one after that, had decided instead to return to the Musketeer rank below that of dragon rider. It meant he no longer went on special missions with his closest friends, but that was for the best, in the long run. He'd gradually been pushing everyone away, keeping them at arm's length, for fear of going through such devastating loss again. He'd never survive it a second time.
…Sometimes he wondered why he'd even survived Savoy. A miracle, his fellow musketeers called it. Aramis was inclined to believe it was a curse.
His hands moved deftly and by second nature over the pistol, his mind unneeded for the task set before them. Which meant of course that it was able to entertain all these morose thoughts, and his heart gave a pang of grief and loneliness. His self-imposed isolation was a double-edged sword.
"Aramis?" a feminine voice queried tentatively.
He looked up to find Constance Bonacieux, the young daughter of the royal dragon keeper, standing at the foot of the table. There'd been a time when Aramis saw her often, as she and her father were the caretakers for the Musketeer dragons, but she was yet another friend he'd distanced himself from.
That didn't mean he couldn't be polite. "Constance," he greeted. "Do you need something?"
"Yes, actually, if you have some time to spare to help me with something."
Aramis set his pistol aside. "What is it?"
She hesitated. "One of the dragons my father and I have been trying to train is being…troublesome. The King purchased him six months ago, and even though he was still small at the time, he just hasn't taken to obedience." Constance wrung her hands in her skirt. "He's almost full grown now and the King has threatened to have him put down if he can't be tamed."
Aramis frowned. "I don't think there's anything I could do that you and your father haven't." Training dragons was their speciality, after all.
"Maybe someone else can get through to him," she said with a hint of desperation. "You've always been good with dragons. Please, Aramis, what could it hurt to just try?"
He could see how distraught she was over the prospect of having to put the poor beast down. "Alright," he relented, gathering up his pistols and clipping them to his belt.
"Thank you," Constance said earnestly.
Aramis just nodded and accompanied her back to the royal dragon den, which was located adjacent to the Musketeer garrison. Constance led him to one of the pens that had a russet dragon inside. He was seven feet tall and thirteen long, so he had a little bit more growing to do.
"This is Rhaego," Constance introduced.
Aramis noted the young dragon didn't react to their presence with hostility—no growling or snapping—but he did roll one eye, intently tracking their movements.
"Rhaego, this is Aramis," Constance said.
"Hello, Rhaego." Aramis placed his hand against the bars of the gate to see if the dragon would come greet him. He didn't, just continued to sulk in the back corner of his den. Aramis turned to Constance. "I'm really not sure what you want me to do."
Constance's expression pinched, and he could see she was equally at a loss. She grabbed a lead rope from a hook on the outer wall and opened the pen. Rhaego straightened as she entered, fixing her with a glower.
Constance Bonacieux had spent her entire life around dragons, yet Aramis couldn't help a flicker of concern, and he stepped in to take the rope from her so he could retrieve the dragon instead. He approached Rhaego from the side so the creature wouldn't feel cornered. Rhaego shuffled away from him, keeping to the wall and as far away as possible. Aramis didn't push. He gradually inched closer again. Rhaego skittered to the other side of the pen. Aramis noticed his wings were bound, which was understandable but the discomfort certainly wouldn't do much for the dragon's mood.
Round and round they went a couple more times until Aramis finally got close enough to snag the halter and slip the lead rope through one of the loops. Rhaego obviously wasn't completely wild—he didn't attack with claws or fire. But he dragged his feet as Aramis led him out of the den into the yard.
Constance crossed her arms and sighed. "See what I mean?"
"Have you tried bribing him with food?"
She huffed. "Of course. He expends more energy trying to steal from the bag than just doing what's asked to get it easily."
Aramis arched a brow at the dragon. "A little rascal, aren't you?"
As though in response, Rhaego abruptly plopped down in the middle of the yard and no amount of tugging on the lead could get him to move.
Constance went to the storeroom and came back with some strips of rabbit meat. "Come on, sit up nice and straight. You're a majestic creature, not a slug."
Rhaego eyed her for a long moment before suddenly surging up and trying to snatch the meat out of her hand. She jerked back just as Aramis yanked on the lead rope. The dragon's tail whipped around and thwacked Aramis in the face. He staggered back in surprise more than pain and pressed a hand to his stinging cheek. Rhaego glowered at him and dropped heavily to the ground again.
"Are you all right?" Constance exclaimed.
"Fine." He rubbed his face again; it didn't hurt enough to signify a severe welt or bruise. "He's quite the stubborn one."
"This is what I mean," Constance said despairingly. "And the King has no use for a recalcitrant dragon."
Aramis's chest constricted at the thought of the dragon dying, as it unexpectedly brought up memories of another dragon that had abruptly and unfairly lost its life. He regretted coming to help, especially since he still didn't think he could do anything substantial. Except perhaps to give Constance a break from the situation.
He gestured for her to pass him the meat. "Why don't you let us be for a bit?"
She hesitated a moment but handed him the food and then left.
Aramis let go of the lead rope and put some distance between him and Rhaego. He tossed a piece of rabbit meat several yards away, trying to entice the dragon to get up and move so he could at least get some light exercise. Being cooped up in his pen all day probably didn't help his disposition either.
Rhaego didn't move.
"You can either get the snack yourself or leave it for another dragon to enjoy," Aramis said.
Rhaego narrowed his eyes, and after another moment, got up with a huff and shuffled toward the meat. Aramis tossed a few more around the yard, but it was a pathetic attempt to get the dragon active and engaged, and he could tell Rhaego begrudged every moment of it. Aramis finally snatched up the lead rope and took him back to his den. After locking the gate, he lingered at the bars.
"Some of us just aren't meant to be tied down anywhere," he mused softly. "Attachments make us vulnerable." He closed his eyes against an upwelling of grief, still so poignant after all this time and amplified by the pervading loneliness that encased his heart in its protective walls.
The sound of scuffling had him opening his eyes. Rhaego had inched toward him, eyes trained on him intently.
Aramis gave him a sad look. "Were it within my power, I'd simply set you free. Wild spirits shouldn't be tethered." He sighed. "But none of our lives are our own, really."
He turned and walked away to take up his solitude once again.
.o.0.o.
The next day, Aramis went back to the dragon compound. Constance was just beginning to feed the dragons their breakfast and looked both surprised and relieved to see him.
"I had an idea for Rhaego," he told her. "If you'll give me his portion."
She quirked a curious look at him but easily handed over the rabbit carcasses. It would be too messy to cut them up into smaller bits, so Aramis went to the storeroom and picked up some strips of cured meat as well. Then he proceeded to hide them around the grounds. He put one rabbit under the corner of a tarp, the other between a barrel and one of the outhouses. He even hooked one of the strips of cured meat on a hook outside an empty dragon pen.
Constance had finished feeding the others by the time he was done and met him at Rhaego's pen to open the gate. The dragon lifted his head toward them, then narrowed his eyes at the lack of breakfast.
"I've hidden your food around the yard," Aramis informed him. "You want to eat, you have to get up and go get it."
Rhaego snorted and turned around, slumping down with his back to them.
"All these other dragons could do it in ten minutes, I wager," Aramis remarked blithely. "But if it's too hard for you, I understand."
That got Rhaego to snap his gaze to them again, a low growl rumbling in his throat as the statement seemed to prickle his pride. He pushed himself up and exited his pen without a lead rope. Aramis tried to bite back a smile as the dragon began lumbering across the yard, nose sniffing intently. His brows rose sharply when Rhaego narrowed in on the first rabbit after only a minute and went straight for it. The dragon found the other pieces of meat quickly as well, definitely under ten minutes.
"Wow," Constance commented. "Did he see you hide them?"
"Not from his pen," Aramis replied.
Of course, the ease with which that'd gotten Rhaego out of his den meant the dragon stubbornly refused to go back in afterward, and it took both of their combined efforts to herd him back. Still, Aramis came back for the evening meal and repeated the exercise, trying to pick more difficult hiding places. He put one piece of meat in a crate, which Rhaego ended up breaking in order to get the chunk out. Aramis abashedly apologized to Jean for that.
But he continued the activity with the dragon for each meal over the next couple of days, and each time the dragon quickly found the hidden meat. He seemed to have a keen sense of smell.
Curious, Aramis started hiding other items like articles of clothing and herbs. He'd give Rhaego a test scent and ask if he could track it down, always adding at the end that if he couldn't, it was okay. Not every dragon was cut out for that kind of skill.
Rhaego always fell for it. And he also always found the hidden item within minutes.
Sometimes he got distracted, particularly when a fresh delivery of meat had just arrived or it was windy and other scents were being carried across the yard. Aramis simply encouraged him to focus, giving him the test scent again until Rhaego got himself under control and succeeded in locating the target. It was remarkable. Aramis kept trying to think of new things to stump the dragon with, and Rhaego kept leaping at the chance to beat him at this little game they'd inadvertently constructed.
"He hasn't missed a single item yet," Aramis told Constance and her father Jean one day after urging them to come watch a demonstration. "And his accuracy is incredible. Here." He held up two bundles of freshly cut plants in his hand, sage and hemp, two plants with very similar scents. "I've hidden four sage bundles and one hemp around the compound. Rhaego!"
The russet dragon hobbled over curiously.
Aramis held out the handful of hemp for him to sniff. "Find this one."
Rhaego took in the plant's scent, then turned and roved his gaze around the yard, nostrils flaring. He began to meander toward the dens but pulled up short and started sniffing the air again. Aramis followed, keeping pace with him.
"That's it. Focus. They smell similar, but this is the one we want."
Rhaego changed direction, weaving back and forth across the yard as he honed in on the right scent. Aramis beamed when he started to make a beeline toward the back of the outhouse where Aramis had hidden the hemp. One minute later, the dragon let out a sneeze as he nearly inhaled the plant with a chirp of victory.
Jean and Constance came over, both looking quite impressed.
"I've worked with a lot of dragons," Jean said, "but I've never seen an aptitude like that." He grinned. "Perhaps I can convince the King to give us more time, given how valuable a skill this is to have in a dragon."
Aramis and Constance shared a smile.
Jean clapped Aramis on the shoulder. "Excellent job, son."
"Rhaego's the one doing the work," he countered, grinning at the dragon. "And it didn't kill you, did it?"
Rhaego huffed and rolled his eyes, then nudged his arm pointedly. Aramis pulled a small cheese cube from his coat and tossed it to the dragon as a reward.
Things were looking up for him.
.o.0.o.
Porthos and Athos landed in the garrison yard, puffs of dust bursting up around their dragons. They had just returned from a lengthy mission to England conveying royal correspondence from the King. The journey itself had been long crossing the English Channel, and then they'd had to remain in England to await the reply. Porthos had yearned for Paris. And now that they were back after delivering the response to the palace, he was exhausted and in need of some food and sleep, but even more than that, he wanted to find Aramis, check in with his friend. Dragon rider missions took them away from each other often and Porthos missed the presence of their third.
First he had to remove Vrita's tack so she could retire to her den. Porthos hauled the saddlebags off, then unbuckled the saddle. Vrita gave a full body shake before shuffling off.
"Welcome back," Pierre said as he walked by.
Porthos nodded in acknowledgement. "You seen Aramis?"
Pierre cocked his head toward the supply storeroom. "He's in there."
Porthos quickly put the saddle away, left his bags on the ground to retrieve later, and headed for the building. Athos followed. Porthos thought Aramis might have been doing inventory or organizing; he was surprised to find him sitting at a makeshift work bench apparently building something that looked like a large box, though with various oddly placed drawers and small mesh windows. Even Athos arched a curious brow at the sight.
"Hey," Porthos greeted.
Aramis looked up at them briefly. "Hey. How was the mission?"
"Long. I'll be happy to stay in Paris fer a while." He paused as Aramis went back to his task. "What are you doin'?"
"I'm making a puzzle contraption for one of Bonacieux's dragons. I've been helping Jean and Constance with the training and trying to think up ways to engage him. There are various compartments to put food in that the dragon will have to work out how to open." Aramis angled the contraption toward them so they could see the levers he'd constructed.
Porthos shot an excited look at Athos. Had Aramis finally changed his mind about pairing with another dragon?
"Clever," Athos commented mildly.
Aramis started putting the tools away. "I should try it out. I'll catch up with you later."
"I wouldn't mind seein' it in action," Porthos spoke up. Aramis's weak attempts to keep them at a distance always stung, even though the marksman didn't usually have the wherewithal to follow through on them.
Aramis hesitated for only a split second before shrugging. He picked up his invention in both hands, and Porthos and Athos followed him out as they headed for the royal dragon den.
Aramis stopped by the storeroom in the compound to retrieve some chunks of meat that he put in the device. From what Porthos could see, it was a rather ingenious setup. No lever or cog was the same for each compartment, meaning the dragon would indeed have to puzzle out how to open each one. Aramis set the large container on the ground and went to a nearby pen where he brought out a young russet dragon by a lead rope attached to a halter.
"I made something for you," he was saying to the dragon. "Let's see if you can figure this out."
The dragon shot Porthos and Athos a suspicious glower, which made Porthos glance at Athos uncertainly.
"Go on," Aramis prompted. "I've hidden food in several compartments. You'll have to figure out how to open them."
The dragon glanced at the contraption, then back at Porthos and Athos, eyes narrowed.
"Rhaego," Aramis said more sternly. "Come on, just give it a try."
The dragon swung his head back toward Aramis, then abruptly lashed out with his foreleg and kicked the box away with enough force that his foot smashed right through it. He gave a sharp flick to shake it off, the pieces crashing to the ground a few feet away.
Aramis jumped back a step. "Rhaego! What is wrong with you?"
The dragon snorted derisively in his face, hot breath buffeting his hair.
"The King is ready to give up on you!" Aramis exploded. "Do you even understand that? We're trying to save your miserable life!"
Porthos's brows shot upward in alarm and he instinctively took a step forward.
The russet dragon opened its mouth and shrieked at Aramis before spinning around and lumbering back to its pen. Aramis pivoted and kicked at the broken contraption.
Porthos exchanged a tense look with Athos, then cleared his throat. "What did you mean by that?"
Aramis's shoulders slumped. "Jean and Constance have been trying to train Rhaego for the past six months, and the lack of results has the King talking about having him put down instead."
"If he behaves like that after six months," Athos said carefully, "then perhaps it's for the best."
Porthos knew it was the wrong thing to say even before Aramis went frighteningly still.
"You didn't put me down when it took me months to recover from Savoy," Aramis said lowly.
"That's not the same thing," Athos replied.
"It's not Rhaego's fault he ended up here," Aramis snapped. Then, before either of them could say another word, he turned and stormed off.
Porthos ran a hand down his face and let out a soft curse. They'd been hoping that one day Aramis would be willing to let himself get close to a dragon again, and now it seemed he was just setting himself up for the very thing he feared—more pain and grief.
.o.0.o.
Late that night under the illumination of a full moon, Aramis returned to the dragon compound, making his way along the buildings until he came to Rhaego's pen. Pressing his back to the gate, he slumped down against it, drawing one knee up and draping an arm across it. In the pale moonlight and darkness, the dragon looked more forlorn than obstinate, curled up in his pen with his head on the ground, eyes glimmering like reflected amber starlight.
Aramis sighed. "Quite the pair, aren't we?" he mused softly. "I push everyone away too." His heart clenched. "Because it hurts too much to then lose them."
Rhaego simply stared up at him morosely.
"Did you lose someone when you were brought here?" Aramis wondered aloud. "Is that why you refuse to befriend anyone? If so, I can understand that."
He could imagine a baby dragon being ripped from its home, from its mother, being carted across Europe to a new land wholly unfamiliar and frightening, sold to a King so difficult to please whose moods changed on a whim. Why would Rhaego trust anyone?
"We're not all bad," Aramis went on. "Jean and Constance are good people. The Musketeers…they're full of good men too."
He closed his eyes at the memory of twenty of those good men losing their lives in a godforsaken forest far from home, and two dragons who had died trying to defend them. Why would he want Rhaego to embrace that kind of life? The only reason Aramis stayed was because he knew nothing else. He was a soldier through and through, and that meant facing death on a regular basis.
It was just that perhaps he hoped, on some small level, that death would rectify the mistake of leaving him the sole survivor of a massacre and come back to claim him like it was supposed to have that fateful day.
"I was seventeen when I became a soldier," he started, talking idly. "Nineteen when I became a Musketeer dragon rider. Oh, the adventures I could tell."
He heard a scuffing sound and looked over his shoulder to see Rhaego had moved an inch. Aramis leaned his head back against the bars and continued, launching into a tale of one of those early adventures, when he'd been young and naive and life had held such excitement. As he spoke softly in the dark, Rhaego slowly scooted closer and closer until he was pressed up against Aramis's back on the other side of the gate.
Aramis talked long into the night, inadvertently honoring those lost friends with the memories. At one point he wasn't sure whether he was talking to Rhaego, no one, or himself. But he kept at it, just to fill the silence and offer companionship to one who seemed just as lost and lonely as he was.