He lifted his head again, forcing it to stay upright and to put a bloody smirk on his bruised face. The world around him spun, the words that were shouted at him were nothing but a muddled mess as his head throbbed merciless.
He didn't quite know how long they had assaulted him. Had it been days or maybe only a few hours? He wasn't sure, but from the thirst he felt and his stomach grumbling he guessed that it had to be almost two days. Years of experience and way too many times he had been kidnapped, made him somehow able to guess the time at least.
Another fist collided with his jaw, forcing his head to be thrown to the side. He spit the blood that gathered in his mouth in front of the feet of the General.
"Girard! Why didn't you tell me that you got one?" Athos stormed into the tent, furious that the General hadn't informed him about the Spanish prisoner. Since a few battles they tried to get one as they needed some kind of information about the Spanish strategies to have a small chance to win this war. Athos didn't like it, but he also knew that this was the only way they stood a chance.
"Because MY men caught him and I will interrogate him." Girard turned his back to his prisoner as he eyed Athos. The musketeer glanced over Girard's shoulder to see a slumped form on a chair, the ropes seemed to be the only thing to keep the man upright. Sweaty strains of hair hung in the man's face, nevertheless Athos recognized him. As a man who had his emotions under control, he got quite distracted by the mix of feelings that rose in him.
"Nevertheless is this OUR war. My men are dying just as yours and we should work together and not keep secrets. Not such important ones like this."
"He won't talk anyway. Moreover it had been only two days and I am not forced to inform you of a prisoner of war."
It was as if Athos tried to stare the man in front of him down, but the General didn't care about the icy look and turned back to his prisoner to slap him against the cheek to rouse him.
Aramis blinked dizzily. Confused when he had closed his eyes, he lifted his heavy head.
For a short moment his eyes fell on a second man in the room, one he hadn't noticed before. But he couldn't allow to let his guard down so he decided to concentrate on the General instead.
"Did he say nothing?" Athos double checked as he took in the sight in front of him, and didn't miss how Aramis tried to avoid his gaze. He still tried to understand this confusing mess of a situation, tried to see all the possibilities and the reasons behind this. While his brain screamed 'traitor', his heart couldn't agree. There hadn't been many times Athos had heard of his heart, but this time it arched so hard he couldn't ignore it. He couldn't – didn't want to believe that his former brother had left them for the Spanish to kill his own landsmen. On the other side: Who had ever really known Aramis?
As openly he had always seemed, he had more secrets than most of them. He was an actor, a charming one – but an actor nevertheless. He had lied to them several times, had worked behind their backs. He had committed high treason as he had slept with the Queen and had got them all into danger. Because then, he had only cared for his own feelings.
Athos wondered if he should tell Girard all this, if he should reveal Aramis' identity. But as long as there was a small sparkle of hope that Aramis had a good reason, he didn't want to get him into any more danger than necessary. As long as he didn't know what was behind all of this he hadn't the right to risk anything.
"Some insults, nothing more." Girard shrugged and watched how Aramis' head fell down to his chest once again. Athos frowned. "You said you had him two days? And you still got anything out of him?"
"He's loyal and well trained, it seems. Unfortunately loyal to the wrong ones." Girard spit the words and kicked against the prisoners leg, which caused him to look up again wearily.
"Give him to my men, we will get the information we need if he has any. And if he doesn't know anything, we will get rid of him." Aramis eyes flashed over to Athos for a short man, just as curious about the man's motives as the other way around. He didn't know what his brothers thought of him now, didn't know what they would do to him and he wasn't quite sure if it wasn't saver to stay with Girard. Moreover he was scared that they would reveal him and spill his secret.
And besides that, they knew that he understood French and wouldn't let any important information close to him. With nothing in his hands to return with to the Spanish army, he was lost. They could kill him right away, it would be better than to return with empty hands.
"Didn't you hear what I said in the beginning? He's my prisoner. You can try to get something out of him when I'm ready."
Athos shrugged as he put on a stoic mask. "Just leave something for me to question. Dead he's worth nothing to us." With that, he left the tent to share the news with Porthos and d'Artagnan. Sooner or later they would get Aramis into their part of the camp and have their time alone with him to get behind this muddled mess.
Till then, Aramis was Girard's prisoner of war and at the man's mercy.
It was the afternoon of an unknown day as he was dragged across the camp. The insults reached his ears but not his mind, as his feet scraped through the muddy ground.
Roughly he was pushed to the ground and just then he noticed that they now were inside a tent, the ground dry and the air warm. He hadn't noticed that he shivered until now. His bones arched and muscles burned as he pressed his knees onto the ground and forced his wobbly legs to cooperate.
He was surprised that no one kept him down as he stood up slowly and took in place around him. The guards that had dragged him there were gone, probably waiting outside. There was only him, but he knew they wouldn't let him escape.
As he had checked that there was no immediate danger he carefully walked towards the table, which was set with goblets of water and a plate full with bread and cheese. He gulped down the water without thinking – if they wanted to kill him they would not poison him. Also, he didn't care about how dirty or bloody his hands were as he grabbed some of the food and ate it as fast as possible.
Aramis stopped as he heard voices coming closer, steps and the rustling of a curtain. He retreated from the table, suddenly ashamed of his weakness and stood as upright as possible in the tent. He thought he did a good job but you could see him wavering and his legs shake. Days of sitting, being beaten and denied to properly eat or drink took their toll on him.
And as Porthos entered the tent, Athos and d'Artagnan right behind him, all air seemed to be knocked out of his lungs just like after a punch of Girard. He should have known that this would happen, but he had prayed that it wouldn't.
Porthos normally so shining eyes didn't show any of his thoughts or emotions as he took in the miserable shape Aramis was in.
"Sit." Athos commanded and pointed at the chair in the middle of the room, but Aramis couldn't stop staring at his brothers. So many thoughts ran through his mind, making it impossible to form one straight one.
"If you haven forgotten: We know that you understand us." Porthos added, fury lacing his voice. Aramis gulped but did as he was commanded - he didn't think that he was able to stand any longer anyway.
Against what he had thought, he wasn't tight to the chair again. The three men stood in front of him, looked down on him. He avoided their gazes, searched for something to concentrate on. Something but them.
"What's all of this about?" Porthos demanded, his hands clenched to fists. "Are you a traitor?"
Aramis bit onto his lip but didn't say anything. He couldn't.
"What did they give you? Was it money? Women?" D'Artagnan's screamed of pain and disappointment as Aramis looked up to him. But he kept silent.
Athos sighed and kneeled down. He still kept some distance between them as he didn't know what Aramis was capable of now – he had already killed Frenchmen. And this was what disturbed Athos most, that he didn't know if to hate or love this man, if he could trust him or if he should get a noose for him right away.
"There's no one else who can hear us, all the guards are far away. So, if you want to tell us something, if you're on a mission we didn't know about – now is the right moment to tell us."
For a while they all prayed that he would open his mouth, tell them that this was a secret mission, that he could now go home. But Aramis kept his mouth shut.
"You're save, Aramis." D'Artagnan tried again, not able to give up his hope.