Celeste held one of Phillippe's hands as he was lying his back, his head resting on the anvil. Athos was holding him down and Aramis and Porthos were watching.

A blacksmith was standing over him. He positioned the point of his chisel against the lock of the mask. It took several ringing hammer blows before the lock broke.

Athos let go of him and carefully pried the mask open.

Phillippe was clinging tightly to Celeste's hand. His face was a wretched sight. It was overgrown with a matted tangle of hair and thick bread. He was also had a deathly pallor. He sat up slowly, lifting his head out of the mask.

All four of the musketeers where frozen. Their faces where painted with a mix of recognition and awe.

Slowly Phillippe let go of Celeste's hand.

"Aramis! Athos! Celeste! He looks exactly like…exactly like…" exclaimed Porthos.

Celeste was staring at him.

Aramis smiled slightly. "I will answer all your questions. But first soap, water and a razor."

Celeste, Aramis, and Porthos where all sitting at a table waiting for Phillippe.

Celeste's face was preoccupied. Her hands where folded in front of her and one of Aramis's hands where resting on top of them.

Suddenly the door opened and Athos came in. He turned. "Come on."

Phillippe stepped into the room cleaned up. His face was so identical to that of Louis's that Porthos jumped.

Slowly Phillippe sat next to Celeste and looked around. The look on his face was wary and vulnerable.

"Yes," said Aramis. "Identical." His blue eyes where aflame as he looked at Phillippe. "The greatest secret of life is who we truly are. Now I must give you that secret, which has been kept from you your whole life. It began on the night Louis was born."

"I remember that night," said Porthos. "D'Artagnan was drunk, the only time I've ever seen him that. The three of us were reveling, remember, Athos?"

Athos nodded. "I remember."

Celeste's heart clenched.

"But I was on duty," said Aramis. "I was summoned to the royal apartments. Arrange a carriage, they told me, and wait by the door of the stables. They brought a baby from the back of the palace, into the black carriage I had waiting. They had given the driver instruction about where it was and I was ordered to make the whole journey with the blinds of the carriage drawn. I carried that baby into the countryside, to a chateau, like this one. And there…I left him. I never forgot that night or what I carried."

"I don't understand," said Porthos. "What does this baby to do with…? You carried a baby somewhere, it's unusual, but…"

"Not just a baby, Porthos," said Celeste. "Aramis carried the child of the king."

Athos and Porthos stared at her.

"The child of the king is…" said Porthos. "The King, Louis!"

"No, not Louis," said Celeste.

Porthos looked at Athos. "Athos, do you understand this? He confuses me…"

"I carried the king's child! The queen had had twins that night, and one of them was sent away, in secret!" said Aramis.

"But why?" asked Porthos.

"Because the old king had had a twin as well, and through his whole reign his brother fought him for the throne. Then he had two heirs, not just sons, but twins. So he decided one be put away, as if he never existed. You, Phillippe."

Phillippe stared at him.

"The old king ordered you be educated and well treated, but your identity kept from you and all those around you. On his death bed, he revealed your existence to Louis and your mother. Your mother had been told by her own priest that you had died at birth. Somehow she blamed herself for ever believing it, and she wished to restore you to your birthright. But now, Louis was king. A priest, even a Pope, he could kill without hesitation, but he was afraid to kill you, for his whole claim to power rests on the sancity of royal blood. So he had you hidden in only a way that a monster could devise. I know, for it was I who took you to prison and the Iron Mask," said Aramis slowly. "I was the man in black you remembered. And someday I will ask your forgiveness. But not until we have restored to you what is yours."

All eyes where on Phillippe. "Restored?" he stuttered.

"We will replace Louis with Phillippe, no one but the King himself…and now we know Phillippe even exits," said Celeste. "All we have to do is switch them."

Porthos and Athos looked at Aramis. He nodded.

"How did you know all this?" asked Porthos.

"Aramis told me about a year ago," said Celeste.

"Switch!" exclaimed Athos. "That is your plan? It is ludicrous!"

"Exactly," said Celeste, growing excited. "It's perfectly ludicrous! So perfect!"

"I have it all worked out," said Aramis.

"Physical resemblance is but one small thing!" said Athos. "Louis has an arrogance, a manner…"

"Those can be adopted," said Celeste.

"And people close to him." Athos couldn't believe he was hearing this.

"Do you think I have not considered that?" asked Aramis. "I have a plan and you may rest assured that it is brilliant!"

"It is not just our lives you risk with this plan of yours! It is Phillippe's as well!"

"Yes!" thundered Aramis. "And he has a choice!" he turned to Philippe. "What about it, Phillippe? All that time in prison, all that time you suffered, was it for nothing? You memorized the entire Bible, or so your priest told me. An act is survival, of defiance, of courage! Your years within the mask have given you reserves of strength that others could not imagine. Your home was a dungeon and now you may be a king, if you have the heart to make it so! Do you have the heart?"

Phillippe stood shailky. "I will try." Then he walked slowly from the room.

"You see!" Aramis turned to Athos. "A king."

Athos shot Aramis a glare and followed Phillippe.

The gardens where drenched with sun and bursting with the beauty of a French summer. And that's where Athos found Phillippe.

"The recent hours have been a shock." Athos sat next to him.

"Perhaps not as much you might imagine. When tutors answered every question except those about who I was. When I was imprisoned in a way that no other man had ver been, I knew there was something different about me. But a king…"

"Phillippe, there is something I hope you understand," said Athos. "Terrible cruelty has been used against you. and…you must understand that you did nothing to deserve it."

"There is…wrath…in me. I have learned to hide it. Those years in the cell, I dreamed that freedom would someday just happen, the way the mask happened," said Phillippe. "Now I am free. And with each free breath I feel a growing desire to make someone suffer for all I have lost. Look at this, all this for five years I could not see! What if I become a king…a king no different from my brother?"

"A desire for vengeance…can be a poison," said Athos, thinking of his own desire for vengeance.

"What is its antidote?"

"I suppose it is to remember there are many people who have never been in prisoner, who pass such beauty every day and never see it."

Athos and Phillippe turned.

Celeste was standing there. She held a red rose out to Phillippe.

He took it slowly and looked it for a long moment. Then he looked around at the beauty of the garden.

Athos looked around too. Suddenly he realized Phillippe was no longer looking at the garden, but at him.

"You look so sad. Is it something I have done?"

"It is something I have done," said Athos softly. He glanced at Celeste. She said nothing. "Or did not do."

"What is that?" asked Phillippe.

"I did not share beauty with someone…who is no longer here for me to share beauty with," said Athos softly. And before Phillippe could say anything else, Athos's attitude changed quickly. "We have much to do, we'd best get started. Now suppose you were to walk into the garden, as a king…"