Porthos stormed into the tent, the curtain almost crushing back into d'Artagnan's face who followed closely. As Athos entered, Porthos had Aramis already grabbed at his collar, forcing the marksman to look him into the face.

"Why did you want to get caught? Tell me!" Porthos shook him furiously, but even though the hard motions caused his vision to get blurry, Aramis stayed silent. His eyes fell from Porthos to something to his right, only for a second as he made that his ears hadn't betrayed him. In his fury, Porthos didn't notice but kept his grip tight, not yet choking him but making it harder to breathe.

"If you've let yourself be caught to get help – here it is! But you have to fucking talk." Frustration grew in Porthos and he pushed Aramis back into the chair, before he took a step back. "Or did the spanish order you? GOD DAMMIT CAN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING?!" D'Artagnan and Athos were there just in time to hold him back, before Porthos could have punched Aramis in the face. Their fingertips gripped tightly into his leather, as the tall man breathed heavily in his anger.

"No sé de qué estás hablando. No te diré nada." (I don't know what you're talking about. I won't tell you anything.)

"SPEAK FRENCH, YOU-" "Enough!" Athos pushed Porthos back to silence him, then turned towards their prisoner.

"We've always known that you're stubborn. We will give you the night to think, if you're not talking tomorrow Girard will want you back. There's nothing then we can do for you."

It needed both d'Artagnan and Athos to get Porthos out of the tent who muttered curses under his breath, that neither of them would ever want to repeat.

He didn't know how many hours had passed since he had last seen the musketeers, but now it was cold and dark in the tent. Exhausted and in pain he tried to rest, but the shivering kept him always in a half awake state of mind. Therefor he heard the squeaking of leather on mud moments before the rustling of curtains. In the darkness he couldn't see more than a shadow-like silhouette coming in.

He tensed as the figure walked closer, cautious to make no loud sounds. It was a man, obviously, clothed in a simple dark leather jacket and trousers. A just as dark hat sat on his head, and only slightly brighter pupils were seen before black silk covered his mouth and nose.

"Have you said anything?" The man hissed as he kept his voice low. Aramis wanted to answer out of reflex, but was able to hold back just in time and stared at him coldly. There was no accent in the man's voice as he spoke French fluently. No indication on his clothes made it possible to see to which side he belonged.

"¿Dijiste algo?" The man repeated his question in not quite perfect Spanish. Aramis shook his head, still trying to make out if he could trust this man or not. But whom could he truly trust now?

"Bien. Espera. En el momento en que tengas alguna información, puedes volver." (Good. Hold on. The moment you've got some information, you can go back.)

So the man was his friend, sent from the spanish. As fast the man had come he had vanished again, making Aramis wonder if all of this was just a dream.

But it wasn't and the moment the man had vanished, he put one and one together.

"Merde!" Aramis struggled against the rope but it didn't want to give in. Instead it grew tighter and rubbed his skin raw. He hissed, before stopping as an idea came to his mind. As much as the restraints allowed he stood up, which forced him to stand in a strange crouched position, as his shins and body were still bound to the chair. He threw himself against a post in the middle of the tent, which was supposed to held the tarpaulin up. The chair crashed into it's remains, the ropes loosened. He didn't think long about the arches this action had caused in his body, but scrambled to his feet immediately.

He ran out of the tent, but the man was already gone. There was no moment react before he was crashed down by something heavy. His bounds were bound roughly on his back before he managed to understand that it was a soldier sitting on his back.

"Thought you could escape, hugh? The Captain and General won't be pleased." The soldier muttered and pushed Aramis back into the tent. This time he bound him right to the post, making sure that the ropes were too tight.

Thank you for all your lovely reviews. They really motivate me and I'm glad that you like this story!
I'm also happy to get critical reviews, as I only can learn from them.
For the ones who are wondering where all of this is heading to... don't worry, you will soon get answers.