The Bastille Soldiers broke through the massive door. They poured in and stopped suddenly.
The King with his guards and Aramis, Athos, Porthos came around the corner. The three musketeers where holding their prisoner, in the iron mask.
Andre smiled. "We have recaptured the prisoner."
"No! No!" shouted Louis from inside the mask. "I am your…"
Athos brought his knee slamming into his chest, knocking his wind out in a heavy breath.
The King turned to the captain of the Bastille. "You will put this madman where no one can hear his insanity. Let him be fed by a deaf mute, but feed him well. And let him have a long life…within the Iron Mask."
The Captain bowed and then his eyes slid to the three musketeers. "And them?"
"They are my loyal servants and most trusted advisors," said Phillippe with a smile. "Now, take him away."
Andre hauled Louis off screaming and disappeared deep within the Bastille.
Louis turned. "Now, go and fetch a stretcher and a carriage. Send words ahead to the palace and have my physicians ready. D'Artagnan is wounded and he must be seen to."
Aramis went back around the corner and found Celeste, sitting on the cold floor, with D'Artagnan's head in her lap. She was stroking his hair and rocking back and forth slowly. Her face was pale.
"Celeste?"
She didn't move and respond.
Aramis knelt next to her. "Celeste?"
"The floor…It's cold." She looked up. "Will he live, Aramis?"
"We will pray to God that he will," said Aramis gently.
Musketeers hurried in, carrying a stretcher.
Aramis gently pulled Celeste back as they carefully lifted D'Artagnan and set him on the stretcher. Then they bore him out and set him in a carriage.
Phillippe, from now on to be called Louis, came down the hall. "We must go."
Aramis, Porthos and Athos whisked Celeste out and into the carriage with D'Artagnan.
Louis swung up onto his horse and followed the carriage back to the palace.
"Anne."
Anne whirled. "Celeste!" She gasped when she saw the girl standing in the doorway, drenched in blood. "What…Who's…Are…"
"What happened?" asked Celeste. "I can barely remember. Who's blood am I covered in? D'Artagnan's."
All the color drained form Anne's face and the rose D'Artagnan had given her, fell from her hands. "Where is he?" she whispered.
"With the doctors. Louis wants you."
Anne looked at her. "Louis? Or Phillippe?"
Celeste managed a small smile. "Louis."
Louis was pacing outside the doors.
Aramis, who had had his knee seen to, was sitting and simply staring at nothing. Porthos and Athos where pacing.
"Louis!"
Louis turned. "Mother!" He caught her as she threw herself into his arms.
"Oh Louis! Will he live?"
"We pray to God that he will."