Athos guessed that it had been about two hours before Aramis' desperate pleas changed into prayers. The marksman talked himself into some kind of trance, switiching from french to spanish and to latin, his fingers gripping tightly into the cloth of his breeches. They had tried to talk to him, but it had been useless as the pain had overwhelmed every other sense. It was reassuring as the prayers stopped and the man fell into a deep sleep.

Porthos growled as he watched his brother rest, tucking at the chains around his wrists. „The moment I get free I kill this bastard."

„If we ever get free." D'Artagnan earned some strict looks from his brothers, as no one even dared to think about this kind of ending. They had to survive, they had to get free. „No one will die here." Athos explained calmly, and he hoped so much that his words will turn out true.

„Do you really think Treville will find us in time? They surely haven't even noticed yet that we're lost. It can be days or weeks till they find us and you really think that Lamage will have so much patience with us?" Porthos and Athos had to agree in silence that the boy could be right, but none of them would have spoken this out. Hope was the only thing that would keep them strong and alive. Death was no solution.

D'Artagnan didn't even need to speak out his next thought, that were also the possibility than one oft hem would eventually break. This would mean certain death for all of them, that he was certain of. „You should stop these kind of thoughts." And Athos really meant this as and kindly advice. In his years in the service of the king there had been many times he or his brothers had been captured, tortured and negotiated. There had been a few times he had thought that it would be the last time, that he would never return home. But he never allowed himself to acknowledge the certainity of death, because giving up meant loosing. Surely Athos had never been someone who cared much about his own life, but he cared oft he ones of his brothers. And eventhough he still couldn't understand why, he knew that he was just as important to them as they to him. And he never allowed himself to die, because he knew how much pain that would have meant for his brothers. So each time he had been beaten and locked up in a cellar, he had forced himself to stay alive, to keep his faith into the musketeers. And each time he had survived.

„It's just…" D'Artagnan sighed as he watched the marksman tossing in his sleep.

„He's strong, he will make it. Whatever this poison is, it will leave his body sometime and he will be himself in no time." Porthos understood how the lad felt, but just as Athos he had enough faith into his brothers and Treville that everthing would be fine in the end. It always was somehow.

Lamage came back a few hours later. Aramis was still fast asleep and didn't stirr as the door fell closed with a thud. But the marksman was not of interest for Lamage now, as the man strode towards d'Artagnan.

He grabbed the chain that connected his wrists and dragged d'Artagnan to his feet. „Do you really think you can impress me with your lady-like punches?" The Gascon grinned as his wrists were attached to a hook in the ceiling, forcing him to stand on his tiptoes.

Lamage laughed, heartless and without any joy in it before he hit the boy in his already brusied ribs. Porthos winced in sympathy as he had to watch how his brother was once again beaten. But he saw in the boys eyes the strength he had, that he still was far away from breaking. D'Artagnan didn't allow to let any cries of pain slip as his body was assaulted again and again. Every now and then he couldn't hold back a quiet whimper, but never more. Lamage seemed to get frustrated, as he stroked him four times especially hard into the face. D'Artagnan's nose had started bleeding long ago again, blood trickled down is lip and from a gash over his right eye. By now, his vision was blurry, his eye almost swollen shut and green and blue brusies started to form on his jaw.

„That's enough!" Athos growled and tucked at his chains as the boy's head fell to his chest ihn exhaustion. Lamage turned around surprised but soon a look of amusement formed on his face. „You want me to stop?"

Athos clenched his jaw, knowing too well what Lamage was insisting. „Just tell me what stood in the letter." The swordsman searched for d'Artagnan's eyes, but the boy kept staring at the floor, all his concentration was spent on staying awake.

„I can't do that. Still there is no reason to beat the boy to death. He is worth more alive."

„And what do you suggest what else I should do?" Lamage walked over to Athos, and the swordsman already prepared fort he first punch – but it never came. „Oh no, I won't hurt you. Not like this."

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Aramis desperate shouts filled the cell, while d'Artagnan tried to get his chains oft he hook – stumbling against the wall every now and then. The boy's insults and the marksman's screams weren't heard. Athos stayed silent and watched. He didn't allow himself to look away. His heart burned and his chest was so tight that there was no space for air in it. But he had looked through Lamage. He knew that this was Lamage's kind of torture for him and he didn't allow himself to break so easily. Eventhough if it meant having to watch his brothers being tortured instead. He would never forgive himself for that, but giving it would mean their certain death. So he stayed silent.

Porthos felt kicked and punched, hitting nothing but air. He tried to hold his breath but soon his body longed for air, his mouth opened. His lungs felt with water, making him fight even harder. The moment dark spots danced infront of his eyes and his arms felt numb, he was pulled out of the bucket of water. Porthos breathed in deeply, but first the water needed to leave his lungs. He caughed out the dangerous liquid before tanking fast breaths. The racing of his heart hadn't stopped as he felt the hand on the back of his head. Again he was surrounded by water, already exhausted it didn't take long for him to breath in the water. But this time Lamage waited longer. Porthos went limb, drifting oft o unconsciuosness before he was pulled out oft he bucket.

Lamage through him to the ground carelessy. As he kicked the big man and there was no response, Lamage shrugge and left again.

„Porthos! Porthos!" Aramis tucked against his chains until blood run down his wrists but there was no way to reach his unconscious brother. „He's alive."Athos announced who was able to see the slight twitiching oft he man's fingers.

Just a few seconds later Porthos awoke with a gasp and turned onto his side to caugh out the water that had filled his lungs. With ragged breaths he lay down again, trying to calm down somehow. „Porthos?" Aramis asked worried, not being able to see after his brother drove him insane.

„'m fine." The big man muttered as he still tried to catch his breath.