D'artagnan couldn't sleep, he couldn't think, he couldn't move. All he could do was breath and even then the pain he felt from doing so caused him to wince every time, his ribs going against the simply act of breathing.

However, he wouldn't give in, not now when he needed to be at his strongest. He would not break, no matter how hard they came down on him. No matter how hard they hit his body or how hard they tried to break his calm and confident front, he would not give in. He was strong. Maybe not physically, his bones weak and stomach aching for a decent meal, but in his mind he was strong.

So no, he wouldn't betray his brothers or France by answering the Spaniard's questions. To his dying day and his finally breath, he would stay true to. He knew his brothers were on their way; they just needed a little time to find him and the other musketeers who had been taken. It would be over soon, the torment and the pain, and the man in charge would be dead at D'artagnan's feet. He would make sure of that.

"You still fight against us, why?" The Spanish Captain, Antonio, said to him, pressing his face awfully close to D'artagnan's so that his breath brushed against D'artagnan's cheek. The younger musketeer gritted his teeth and held his head high, showing no sign of fear or backing down.

"Because of my honour and loyalty to France," D'artagnan said, keeping his voice strong and not allowing it to crack. Antonio simply huffed a laugh, leaning back slightly to study D'artagnan with curious eyes, a hand coming to scratch his growing beard. D'artagnan felt like something on display, sick rising up within him as he tried to keep his head held high in his aching position.

The musketeer was hung up to a tree, rope tying his hands together above his head to the tree branch and causing his upper body to feel numb as it stretched upwards. His shoulders ached from the strain, his toes only brushing the ground and not helping with holding his weight up. His muscles in his arms twitched, wanting nothing more than to be freed from the rope and be allowed to relax.

He slowly turned his head, closing his eyes momentarily due to the pounding headache that suddenly flared up from the movement. He took in a deep breath before opening his eyes again. He looked around to see his fellow comrades still sat hunched over, wrists tied together by rope. The look on their faces were ones of pure fear and their shaking bodies only angered D'artagnan even more, giving anything to punch the man that stood in front of him for causing all this.

He pulled roughly at the rope that bound his hands together, it slowly burning his wrists at his struggle to get free. He ignored the pain it caused, being nothing compared to the immense pain his upper body was in.

"You can pull at your rope all day but there's only one way you're getting out of this, only one way you and your friends get out free and alive, and that is if you answer my questions," the Captain said, still watching him with narrowed eyes and a grin on his lips that made D'artagnan's stomach twist. D'artagnan gritted his teeth in anger, glaring at the Captain before pulling at the rope once more to show Antonio his words meant nothing. The Captain simply chuckled at him, pulling out his knife and twisting it effortless through his fingers before he started to pace in front of the hanging musketeer.

They were being held in a Spanish camp a couple of miles away from where the musketeers had been ambushed late yesterday evening, D'artagnan and six other musketeers being taken as prisoners by the Spanish.

The sun was now shining through the trees, lighting up the forest floor and showing that noon was nearly upon them. He and the other musketeers hadn't gotten any sleep, interrogated all night and all morning. However, D'artagnan had managed to take Antonio's attention away from his brothers and primarily on him instead. He couldn't watch the younger musketeers suffer when he could do something about it, so with a sarcastic comment D'artagnan had found himself hanging from a tree with Antonio's attention on him and only him.

"You should have just killed us back there when you had the chance," D'artagnan said as Antonio went to sit down on a log opposite him.

"You think?" He asked back, glancing up from his knife and pointing it sharply at D'artagnan. Antonio then stretched his legs out, cracking his back in the process to ease his muscles.

"You're men are no threat to me if they fight like you," Antonio began and D'artagnan gritted his teeth, digging his nails into his palms to restrain his anger. "I simply need you to answer my questions, which after a long night of no talking seems like it will take a while," Antonio said before glancing at the other musketeers that sat on the ground. "Unless I ask one of you," he said, speaking directly to them. They all diverted their gaze, looking anywhere but at the Captain and hoping not to be chosen to answer.

"Leave them be," D'artagnan warned, relaxing his hands once his muscles in his arms began to ache even more. "They cannot answer your questions," he added, knowing that the younger musketeers knew nothing of France's battle plans. He was the only one that could answer honestly and Antonio knew that, the man was just playing some sick game to get at D'artagnan.

"Then answer my questions or I'll start narrowing the numbers," Antonio said and D'artagnan straightened up as much as he could in the awkward position he was in.

"Your threats don't scare me," D'artagnan said and Antonio sighed, looking down at the ground before running a hand through his hair and glancing back up at D'artagnan. He narrowed his eyes and set his jaw, deciding to change his tactics.

"But they scare them," Antonio then said, turning his knife to the point at the young musketeers but keeping his eyes locked with D'artagnan, a silent battle occurring between them. "It seems my men haven't tried hard enough with you," he then said when D'artagnan didn't seem to be backing down.

He stood up from the log before suddenly lunging at D'artagnan, pressing his knife hard against the musketeer's neck and drawing blood.

"You will answer my questions whether you like it or not. Eventually your body will give up on you, your mind will play tricks and then, you'll easily tell me what I want to know," Antonio snarled and D'artagnan gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain the knife against his neck was causing him.

"How many French soldiers are in Spanish territory?" He asked and D'artagnan stayed silent, setting his jaw and keeping a glare fixed on Antonio. "How many parties do you have south of the border?" And again, Antonio was met with silence. "Which route do the French next mean to take to get supplies to your men?" He asked and D'artagnan finally let a small smirk slip onto his lips. Time to play the game, he thought.

"Routes?" D'artagnan asked, dropping the smirk and pretending to think. "Well, there are many as I'm sure you know, being a Captain yourself. The musketeers could use the last one we had set, or maybe the one we came up with a week ago or a completely new one that I have no means of knowing since I'm currently hung up in a tree," he said with sarcasm laced thickly in his voice. He gave the Captain his best dull and unimpressed look that even Athos would be proud of it.

Antonio narrowed his eyes at D'artagnan, tightening his grip on his knife and studying D'artagnan with such fury that the musketeer could feel it radiating for him. Antonio then sighed and leant back, not drawing himself into D'artagnan's tricks and removing his knife from the man's neck instead.

The musketeer let out a silent sigh, allowing himself to breathe deeply now the restriction of the knife had disappeared. He then relaxed slightly, trying to roll his shoulders as best he could to try and ease the growing stiffness of his muscles.

He locked eyes with Antonio, seeing the frustration rising within the Captain's eyes and feeling a small sense of victory against the Spaniard. He held the Captain's glare to show he was no man for backing down so easily, waiting for Antonio to pull away instead.

"Your friends here and back at your camp won't last long; I will make sure of it. Trust me on that D'artagnan," Antonio said, turning away from him and looking down at the other musketeers, who all tensed from the Captain's harsh eyes scanning over them all.

"The French Captain won't let you get away with this," D'artagnan simply said in a matter of fact tone, knowing Athos and his brothers would get their revenge on the Spaniards.

"Take away the four heroic musketeers and there is no fight," he said, turning away from the prisoners to fully face D'artagnan again.

"You underestimate them," D'artagnan replied, his voice low in a warning as his lips curved up into a small smirk. He was putting up an intimidating front, however it didn't seem to faze the Spanish Captain.

"You underestimate my powers," Antonio grinned back and D'artagnan took a deep breath, trying to control his anger that threatened to surface as his smirk dropped from his lips. Antonio waved a hand towards D'artagnan lazily and three men came running over from their posts as guard around the small camp, coming to a stand by their Captain and waiting for orders.

"Do with him as you will, just make sure he's alive at the end of it," Antonio said, clearly bored with trying to trick D'artagnan into speaking and decided brute force was the better option. The three men glanced at each other before they turned in unison to look at D'artagnan.

The musketeer straightened up as best he could, taking in a shaky breath as he prepared his already aching body for what was about to come. He had been beaten up before, taken a few hits while in the musketeer regiment from his enemies as well as his friends. Porthos had simply stated he needed to ready for a situation like the one he was currently in, both Aramis and Porthos not pulling their punches while sparring in the yard. He knew the beating was going to hurt, knew blood would be drawn just from the looks the three Spaniards had on their faces.

They stepped forward and D'artagnan was hit with a heavy blow to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him the second the knuckles had slammed against him. He had to admit it hurt; there was no denying that the heavily built Spaniard could throw a powerful punch. Just as D'artagnan had managed to catch his breath back, he grunted as a different guard slammed a fist against his jaw and caused his head to snap to one side.

Another swift punch and D'artagnan's ribs screamed, the pain causing him to wince as he sucked in air quickly before it was knocked out of him once more. One of the guards pulled out a knife and swung, slicing a deep cut along the side of D'artagnan's face and causing blood to trickle down to his neck.

He was then punched once again in the face, his head snapping back and hitting the tree behind him hard. His vision blurred as he swung back and forth slightly from the branch, the pounding in his head increasing dramatically. He tried to focus on his breathing and ignore the pain that ran through his body, blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision. However, everything went in and out of focus as another punch was aimed his way.

"That's enough," Antonio suddenly called after the fourth punch was landed across D'artagnan's face. The musketeer looked up at Antonio through one eye, his other swelling and throbbing in pain. He could taste his blood running down from his broken nose onto his busted lips, his breathing heavy as his whole body slumped in defeat.

Antonio then walked over, his men suddenly moving back to give him room.

"I'll show you mercy only because I'm impressed by your bravery to stand up to me," he said as he walked over to stop in front of D'artagnan. He grabbed D'artagnan by the hair and pulled his head back, forcing D'artagnan to look at him. He let a smile slip onto his lips as he studied D'artagnan's bruised and bloody face, happy to see the musketeer suffering. He moved his head so his lips were inches away from D'artagnan's ear.

"You will break," Antonio whispered low, his warm breath brushing against D'artagnan ear and running down the side of his neck. It took everything in D'artagnan's power to suppress the shiver that wanted to run down his spine.

Antonio then dropped his grip from D'artagnan's hair, the musketeer's head falling to rest on his chest. The Captain then straightened out his clothes before giving D'artagnan one last smile and disappearing out of sight.

"Guard him," he ordered his three men who quickly responded by circling around D'artagnan. He knew the musketeer was clever, knew he would try to find a way out of his bindings even in his current beaten state. "It's going to be a long day my friend," Antonio called over his shoulder at D'artagnan before entering his tent, leaving D'artagnan to stew in his injuries.

TBC...