I just couldn't resist this idea as it came to my mind last night.
I wrote the first chapter on my way to work in the train on my mobile phone, so please excuse mistakes - I will correct them later!
Looking forward to your reviews, they always mean a lot to me!
And I know I should be working on my other works, but I just had to do this... I regret nothing.
I don't own anything. Unfortunately.
His eyes fluttered open, seeing nothing but darkness and the flickering of a torch on the other side of the room at first. Slowly his eyes adjusted and he recognized more of the place he had woken up in. A cell to be more precisely. There was just one small window in the high walls, not spending enough light for the quite big room, but at least giving him some kind of hint what time of day it could be. It had to be in the early morning, Athos guessed.
He had regained his senses by now fully again, remembering the ambush in the night as they had camped outside. He had been hit against the Head, hard enough to force his body into uncosciousness.
Then, one quite important detail came to his mind. "Aramis?" Athos asked into the dark corners of the room, as he noticed a slumped figure to his left. The swordsman tried to reach out for his friend but his hand was soon restrained by the chains around his wrists, which didn't allow him to stretch his arm out to his Full length.
"I see you finally woke up." The marksman answered, way to light hearted for Athos liking. On the other hand this wasn't the first time they had been captured and won't be the last. Athos just thanked god that they had given the precious letter to another group of musketeers they had net on the way, as their own horses were already tired and slow.
"The others?" Athos glanced into the distance of the room, which didn't allow him to recognize anything different than darkness.
"Here." Porthos rustled with his chains, followed by silence. "D'Artagnan?" Aramis asked, worry in his voice as the gascon didn't answer. "Can't see him." Porthos muttered just as concerned.
As if they had just waited for the musketeers to awake, the tell telling sound of keys rustling echoed through the cell. The soldiers tensed up, more curious than scared of who would enter. The door opened with a squek and a tumbling figure was pushed inside, falling to the ground after the unsuccesfull try to stay on his feet. D'Artagnan groaned in pain as he sat up, taking in the scene in front of him. "Nice to meet you again." He forced a smile onto his bloody lips, before a tall man entered. He didn't say anything as he dragged the Musketeers through the cell and checkled him to the wall just as the others. D'Artagnan's protests were far too weak for the usually strong man, concerning the oder musketeers immediatly. "Are you hurt?" Athos asked, trying to see the extand of the lads injuries.
"Just bruised." He answered, leaning his head against the cold wall exhausted.
"They want the letter." D'Artagnan added after a while, confirming what Athos had already guessed.
"So what's the plan?" Aramis asked into the direction of their unofficial leader. Athos sighed as he assessed the situation. There was no way they could get free from the chains without help. "Waiting and saying nothing, I guess. Treville will soon notice that we're late and send someone to search for us. They will find us sooner or later. Till then we need to hold out, make them think that we know something. As long as they believe that we have some kind of information, they won't kill us." Athos hoped that his words would turn out true and wondered who "they" might be.
"Don't worry, a few beatings won't break a musketeer." Porthos said, confident that they would get out of this mostly unharmed - they always did.
MMMMMMMM
The sun is standing high, as the door to their cell opened again and the man from earlier entered again, heading straight towards Porthos. The others glanced at their brother with worry, as he sat up straighter. To everyones suprise he wasn't beaten or dragged away, but a waterskin was held to his lips. Porthos first refused but the man grabbed his chin tightly and forced the water into him, causing the big man to caugh.
"You should be thankful." The man muttered as he put the skin away. "Oh I will show you how thankful I am when I get these chains of." The stranger huffed at the comment grabbed into a basket which stood by the wall. "Last chance for you to speak. What stood in the letter?"
"Go to hell."
Porthos struggled against the chains as a rag was pushed in his mouth. Another one was put over his eyes, before some kind of wooden plug was pushed into his ears. The big man muffled something against his gag what could be nothing other than some obscene insult.
The man then walked over to D'Artagnan, also offering him some water. Thirsty as he was, the lad drank it without an protest. Athos did the same, as there was no reason to die of thirst. They need to stay as strong as possible. Feeling the scratch in his dry throat Aramis was thankful as the man walked over to him. Unfortunately he spilled the last of the water onto the ground grinning, leaving the musketeer thirsty.
After the stranger had left the cell again, Aramis dared to call out for his friend but as feared Porthos couldn't hear him. "What's this about?" D'Artagnan asked as he eyed his brother with concern.
"Isolation is a kind of torture." Athos frowned, not pleased in which direction all of this went.
The Musketeers sat in silence most of the time, each one lost in their own thoughts. Athos couldn't stop to try to find a way out of this but he always came to the same solutions. Either they are saved by the regiment or they can escape when at least one of them is free from his chains for some reason. Or, and he really didn't like this solution, these strangers will kill them when they notice that they don't carry any kind of important information.
With time passing, Porthos started to feelings more and more uncomfortable. Being chained up was one thing - that he could handle. But not being able to use the there most important of his senses made him feelings uneady. He didn't know what happened to the others, if something happened. He sighed against the cloth in his mouth, feeling thirsty eventhough he just had some water. He just wished to hear or see something. But his wish was denied as he had to stay in darkness and loneliness for what felt an eternity.
Porthos didn't notice as the man from earlier walked back in and straight towards their youngest. Their was no words or time to react before the first kick hit the Gascon in the stomach, causing him to draw his legs up in order to protect himself. "What stood in the letter?" The man kicks again, hitting D'Artagnan against his shoulder.
"Leave him alone!" "You little Bastard, are you too scared to fight fair?!" Athos and Aramis shouts echoed through the cell, their chains rustled as they both tried to reach the two men on the other side of the room. Porthos just heard some muffled sounds and guessed that there had to be some kind of fight, he tensed up immediatly, ready to react if needed.
"Shut up or you end up like the other one." Now it was a fist which met with D'Artagnan's jaw, forcing his head to fly back against the wall. He couldn't hold back a groan as more punches hit him, causing his nose to bleed and head to throb.
"You can beat me to death... if you like... I won't tell you. .. anything." His voice was rough between ragged breaths as he showed a bloody smile towards his attacker.
"Oh you will. One of you will break sooner or later." The man grinned at them before he once again left them alone.
"How bad is it?" Aramis asked, his voice Full of concern. He tried to ignore the threat and didn't allow himself to think about what else could and will be done to his brothers im the next days. Even if Athos was right and Treville would send help, it wouldn't arrive before the next week - if not later.
"Headache and few scratches, but nothing sevre." The marksman wanted to see the real extend of the wounds himself, but for now the words of his brother had to be enough.
MMMMMMMM
Night came and went before their tormentor came back with a tray full of food and water. He first gave the two swordsmen something to Drink and some dried bread before he headed over to Porthos. He only freed him from his rag for enough time to take a few sips and bites, before it was secured back.
Aramis was denied any kind of water or food again. "Here have some of mine." Athos broke his bread in two halfs and threw it towards the marksman. The bread hit the floor a few meters in front of Aramis and no matter how far he stretched, he couldn't reach it. He gave up sighing. "Thank you for trying mon ami, but I guess it's just not supposed to be."
D'Artagnan felt bad as he ate his own food, but he was even more far away from the marksman than Athos. Aramis smiled at him reassuring. "Don't you worry about me, whelp. I've gone through much worse." Painful memories started to rise back to the surface as he spoke.
He had live through three days, drinking the snow his brothers had died in and eating the raw flesh of a raven which had tried to pick at Aramis, after the animal had already eaten from another dead musketeer. Aramis would rather starve than to having to do this ever again.
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