The jailer bowed politely to D'artanyan, who returned the gesture with a slight nod. The jailer took a torch from the wall and a key from his belt and unlocked the heavy wooden door which he and D'artanyan entered. The captain of the musketeers couldn't suppress a violent gag. The cell smelled of illness, mold, waste and infinite suffering along with other smells that were so incredibly horrendous that D'artanyan could hardly see straight. The jailer raised his torch so that they could find Philippe in the darkness.

"Philippe" D'artanyan whispered gently into the black. His voice echoed in the cell. "Philippe, my son where are you?"

In response, he heard a gentle sob. He walked towards his son who he knew was the source of the small, miserable cry. Tears started forming in his eyes when he saw the small, frail and filthy body of his son lying on the cold stone floor, with a rat biting his leg. He was crying. He was crying so hard.

Seeing the iron mask around his son's head made D'artanyan gasp in horror. He knelt down beside the child and gently placed a hand on his sons shoulder. "Oh Philippe." He cried before allowing a few tears to flow freely down his cheeks. Philippe turned his head up to face this man who seemed so distressed to see him in such a state as he was in. D'artanyan's tear-blurred vision could clearly see Philippe's blue eyes through the eye slits of the horrific iron mask, and he saw that they too were welled with tears. Philippe whimpered. "Oh my dear Philippe," Cooed D'artanyan, "Please stay strong for just a moment longer, I'm taking you home my son." Philippe was shaking now, overcome with fear. He wanted so desperately to ask why D'artanyan called him son, and why he was (apparently) saving him from that horrible place, but he couldn't for the fear.

He could however, with much effort, manage a small studer. "Wh...Wh...Who..." But sobs of agony and fear of the man overpowered his voice. He broke down again.

D'artanyan held his son close to him and cradled him in his arms, gently rocking him back and forth. "Oh my dear Philippe," his voice came out as a gentle whisper, and he allowed the tears to stream freely down his cheeks now, "Philippe, I am your father. You are my son. I know that you don't know me, I haven't seen you since you were an infant. But I just found out about you tonight and I'm here to save you. I love you so much my son and..." He stopped abruntly.

Philippe had thrown into himself into his fathers arms, holding on to him tightly as if in desperation. He obviously didn't know if this man was telling the truth, but he was so starved for affection and love that he was going to believe him.

D'artanyan allowed him to hold on for a few moments before lifting up his head so that their eyes met. "I'm taking you home now Philippe. I promise you I will explain everything to you there. I love you so much my son."

Philippe nodded and attempted to stand but was so weak that he fell to his knees on the stone floor. He let out a whimper which was muffled by the mask. D'artanyan felt more tears welling up as he witnessed what he was sure was 1 of the many cruel effects this terrible Prison had had on his son. He picked his child up in his arms and started for the door.

It was only after D'artanyan was out of the horrid cell that he realized that Philippe was still wearing that horrible iron mask. He cursed himself mentally, for he needed to get that terrible contraption off of his son as soon as possible. He looked over at the jailer who was guiding him out of the prison.

"Et que Avec le masque? He asked the jailer. The jailer just laughed a cruel laugh in response. D'artanyan understood this to mean that the jailer would not remove Philippe's mask. The cruelty of that made his blood boil. Hadn't the boy suffered enough?

The musketeer looked down at his son. The boy was clutching D'artanyan's shirt and crying softly. He was visibly shaking as well. D'artanyan pulled him closer. "Don't worry Philippe. I'm taking you out of here, and once we leave this place we will take off that terrible mask and then you and your mother and I are going to go live out in the beautiful country together as a family, and we will be happy, oh so happy."

Finally after another short eternity, The jailer, the musketeer and his son arrived at the entrance of the prison. "Merci Monseigneur." Said D'artanyan as he stepped into the rowboat. He gently placed Philippe into a sitting position and allowed him to recline on him. The boy was so weak he could barely sit up by himself. A nearby guard opened up the iron portcullis, and D'artanyan rowed the boat through it, into the night and towards the waiting carriage with his son now by his side.

Yay! Philippe is safe! Please review.