D'artagnan sat resting against the tent pole, eyes closed and chest rising and falling gently. He had focused his mind to think of something other than the sharp pain he got when he drew in breath.
Constance.
She was his saviour as always, the thought of her was keeping him from slipping to the darkest parts of his pained mind. It kept him from thinking the worst of their situation, although there were no positives to be seen at this moment in time.
The thought of her pushed back the image of Philippes dead body still lying on the cold ground, rotting away slowly. It stopped him from breaking down, knowing his brother would not see rest until he was buried, which could be never. Constance stopped D'artagnan from reliving the death, the scene of slaughter as the Spanish took out the French soldiers.
Constance was his light and he refused to let the Spanish break him from it.
Just as peace was settling throughout the small tent, Beaumont now fast asleep even though it was only early evening, the tent flap was pulled back and the Captain strode in. The calm before the storm now broken and the storm was looking to bring a good fight just from the menacing look on Antonio's face.
Duval gave a quick elbow into Beaumont's ribs to wake the snoring musketeer.
"What?" He grumbled as he rubbed his face, blinking back sleep in his eyes.
"Question time my friends," the Captain said before Duval could speak, opening his arms out wide with a large smile on his face. "Your lives gentlemen," he said, looking at each and every one of the musketeer prisoners with a grin. "Is in his hands," he finished, gesturing to D'artagnan who had stiffened the second Antonio had walked into the tent.
"I beg to differ," D'artagnan grumbled, his patience running thin and his annoyance taking over.
"But it is my dear friend. An answer for a life," Antonio said, his eyes casting a look across at Beaumont and then landing on Duval. "It seems these two have become your somewhat protectors, they shall be the first," he said and Duval froze, his muscles tensing at the thought of the pistol by Antonio' side pointing at his head.
"It seems to me like you think I'm the one pulling the trigger," D'artagnan said, dragging Antonio's gaze away from his two brothers and back to focusing on him. "You are the one who pulls the trigger, gives the order for their death," D'artagnan said, playing the game Antonio has been desperately trying to push D'artagnan to play.
"That's where you are wrong D'artagnan," the Captain said, a smirk forming on his lips that D'artagnan knew would haunt his dreams. "I maybe pulling the trigger but it's you who gives the order by simply not answering my questions," he said and D'artagnan lifted his head slightly, studying the Captain.
"Questions I don't now have the answer to. The Captain will have changed the battle plans, their supply routes, locations of French parties..." D'artagnan wondered off, seeing a small flare of anger rise up within the Captain's eyes before it was replaced with a neutral look.
"You do truly fascinate me D'artagnan," Antonio said.
"Many people have said that before," D'artagnan replied sarcastically before Antonio had strode the few steps between them, closing the gap and pressing his face awfully close to D'artagnan's.
The Captain didn't reply, simply studied D'artagnan through narrowed and curious eyes before letting his lips crack up into a smile.
"Drag him outside, bring the two shits along as well. They can enjoy the show," Antonio said to the men stood behind him, holding D'artagnan's gaze for a few more seconds before pulling away.
D'artagnan and Duval allowed the guards to grab them and drag them outside while Beaumont sent a colourful array of swear words directed at the guards.
D'artagnan was slammed face first into one of the trees once outside and let out a grunt before pushing himself to stand again.
He turned slowly to look at Antonio before glancing back at Duval and Beaumont with a silent warning to stay quite.
"First question," Antonio began, crossing his hands in front of him and staring down D'artagnan. "The location of the French parties?" Antonio asked and D'artagnan took a breath, grinding his teeth as he prepared himself for the beating he knew was coming no matter his answer.
Before he could reply Antonio interrupted him by putting his hand up.
"Before you start, I want to remind you what happened to your little friend the last time you lied to me," Antonio said and D'artagnan titled his head slightly.
"As I recall, I wasn't lying. You're just too dumb a fool to realise," D'artagnan snapped and bit his tongue when he realised he had gone too far. He had warned Duval and Beaumont to stay quite when he should have warned himself.
Antonio slammed a fist into D'artagnan's ribs that he was sure this time broke one of them, the pain causing him to stumble to his knees and for dark spots to dance around the edge of his vision.
"You'll pay for this you bastard!" Beaumont shouted as he thrashed against the guards hold on him. Antonio simply turned away from facing D'artagnan to look at Beaumont.
"I'd be careful what you say, it will only means more pain for your dear leader here," Antonio said with a smile, which got the response of two glares from Duval and Beaumont.
"He's told you everything he knows last tim-" Duval began but was stopped short by Antonio slamming a fist into his jaw, his ring cutting at the musketeer's skin.
Duval stumbled backwards slightly and Beaumont trashed even more, gritting his teeth and using every inch of willpower he had to not break free now and kick Antonio in the balls.
"Captain," one of his men called, walking over to them. "You're needed in the main tent, more battle plans from the general," the soldier said and Antonio nodded.
"Sadly it looks like we're going to have to cut this short gentlemen," Antonio said, turning back to D'artagnan to see the man had fallen to the ground. "Such a sight," he simply said before nodding for his men to drag them away.
D'artagnan was grabbed by the arms and pulled along the ground, head hanging low and ribs throbbing painful against the movement.
D'artagnan took in a shaky breath as a single tear managed to make its way down his cheek. He didn't know if he was crying from the physical pain or the mental pain of realising it may be too late for his brothers to get here.
If only D'artagnan had known the three were only mere meters away in the covers of the trees.
They're so close...