After finding out he's been commissioned, Isabelle is ready to surprise her son with her visit but instead of arriving healthy, he arrives in the arms of Porthos, shot and unconscious.

Excitement brimmed within Isabelle's veins as she waiter inside her son's room. Since finding out that Charles had been commissioned into the Musketeers and gaining the approval of the King no less, Isabelle knew it was time for another trip to Paris. As Isabelle had so enjoyed the look of surprise on her son's face that last time she visited unannounced she wanted to do it again, this time for much more joyous occasion. His friends and the lovely Constance had been kind enough to help arrange things and she was extremely grateful to the young woman for allowing her entry to her home once more, especially as her and her husband were away for the night.

The sun was beginning to set and Isabelle smiled. According to her written discussions with Athos, they should be returning soon. Part of her wanted to pace to get rid of some of the adrenaline she had but she didn't want to reveal her presence too early by the noise it would produce. Minutes continued to pass and the sun began to set lower and lower, causing an uneasy feeling to settle in the pit of her stomach. She tried to ignore it; they must have just got caught up in talking to someone, she told herself, but if anything the unease grew stronger and Isabelle had never been one to disregard her instincts.

She was proven right when she heard the door open with a crack and a panicked voice echoed throughout the house.

"Get him inside his room quickly! He has lost a lot of blood already."

Isabelle recognised Aramis' voice and his words were followed by the sound of thundering footsteps up the stairs. Blood running icy cold, Isabelle jumped from the bed and pressed herself against the wall to be out of the way. Her fears were confirmed when the door slammed open and in came Porthos carrying her unconscious child. Charles' face was deathly pale and waxy in complexion. As Porthos set him on the bed her eyes scanned his body in search of the wound until they locked onto his thigh which was bleeding profusely.

"What happened?" No one even seemed to notice her as they fussed over Charles but then, her voice had been nothing more than a whisper. "What happened?!"

With the whisper becoming a shriek, she gained the attention of all three men. Athos was the one who approached her, his mouth set in a grim, apologetic line.

"I am truly sorry madam. d'Artagnan was involved in a duel just now and his challenger pulled out a gun when he had lost. It was completely unacceptable and dishonourable and he has been arrested. He will pay for his crime, you can rest assured of that."

Right then, Isabelle didn't care much with what happened to the offender, she was far more concerned with her son.

"Will he live?" She asked; her eyes unable to stay away from Charles.

"The bullet ran straight through." This time it was Aramis who answered, his focus concentrated on the injured leg. Rather than just answering her, he seemed to be making his observations aloud. "He has lost a lot of blood but the wound will be easy to stitch. I have great hope that he will make a full recovery." Aramis sounded just as relieved as Isabelle felt and she took this opportunity to head over to her son. Porthos quickly moved away, giving her space to sit by Charles and take his limp hand. Aramis spared her a quick, sad smile before setting about removing Charles' trousers so he would have clear access to the wound.

"Oh my dear sweet boy," Isabelle murmured, stroking Charles' cheek with her free hand. Her eyes drifted over his new uniform and she gave a watery smile. "They were right when they said becoming a Musketeer would lead to more trouble, weren't they." Carefully, Isabelle leant over and pressed a soft kiss against Charles' forehead.

Now reassured that her son would live, the circumstances that led to his condition returned to her mind.

"Athos, you said he was involved in a duel?" Isabelle clarified, turning her attention to the man.

Athos nodded. "It was with a new recruit, Armel. He was jealous of how quickly d'Artagnan had joined our rank and had been pestering him for days until today when d'Artagnan suggested they settle it with a duel. While duals are frowned upon, it is usually the best answer for this sort of issue as long as no one is gravely injured and so we saw no harm in it. We knew d'Artagnan would best Armel and that was proven when the fight occurred. Very quickly Armel had d'Artagnan's sword against his throat except instead of accepting his defeat, Armel brought out the gun he had hidden when d'Artagnan's back was turned. It is thanks to Porthos knocking his hand that the bullet struck his leg instead of its intended target. I am very sorry this happened madam, especially under our watch."

Though Isabelle felt rage unlike anything she had experienced before, it was not aimed towards the men in the room. With a final stroke of Charles' hand, she stood up and walked towards a slightly terrified Porthos. Instead of shouting at him like she knew he expected her to, she flung herself at him, gathering him in a hug. After a few seconds, hands tentatively rested on her back and she squeezed him tighter.

"Thank you for stopping him from killing my son. I am forever grateful," she whispered.

"You don't need to thank me," Porthos replied, his voice turning a bit gruffer. "I only wish I could have stopped the bastard from hitting him altogether."

"Even so, thank you."

Isabelle released Porthos from her grip and faced Athos.

"I wish to see this Armel." She said firmly.

Athos' eyebrows rose. "I do not believe that is wise madam. I assure you, he is being held behind bars and will face just punishment for his crimes."

"I do not doubt that, but I still wish to see him."

"Would you not prefer to stay with d'Artagnan?" Athos argued.

Isabelle's gaze turned towards her son. Aramis must have given him a tonic of some sort as he barely stirred as the needle pierced his skin.

"Aramis, do you believe he will wake in the near future, say within the next few hours?"

Aramis shook his head. "No, I have given him a sleeping draft to save him feeling any pain. I do not expect he will wake until morning at the earliest."

"Then he will not miss me for a few hours. I wish to see Armel now then," Isabelle repeated and though he still looked very against the idea, Athos gave her a grudging nod.

"As you wish."

"We will stay with d'Artagnan," Porthos promised, gesturing to himself and Aramis.

"Thank you. Shall we be off then?" Athos gave her another nod and the two left the house.

Though night was drawing closer, Isabelle felt no fear as she travelled through the streets of Paris. She was with one of the best Musketeers of the regiment, if her son's words were to be believed, and Isabelle herself was in no mood for any more trouble to occur. Athos led her safely through the thin, winding roads until they ended up outside what Isabelle assumed must be the prison.

"I will ask where he has been allocated. Just stay behind me."

Isabelle did as he asked and stayed silent as Athos asked one of the guards where Armel was being held. The guard questioned her presence but Athos just told him she was involved in the case and that was all he needed to know. Though that earned her a confused stare, he fortunately allowed them both through and they stopped outside a small, dark cell. The few candles around gave her limited sight but she was able to make out the form of a boy sitting against the wall, manacles around his wrists. Isabelle couldn't be sure but he didn't look more than seventeen or eighteen with dirt dusted blonde hair and wide eyes that stared up at them with frightened, confused eyes. During any other circumstance, Isabelle would have felt sorry for the boy but those feelings were hard to come by when she knew Armel would have killed her son had he been able to.

"You can leave us," Athos said to the guard and he did so, with one last look at Isabelle.

"What do you want?" Armel asked. His tone was both scared and resigned. The boy could not have been in prison for more than a half hour yet he already acted like a man who had spent many a year there. Well, if the court had any say, he would become one.

"I suppose you do not know who I am," Isabelle began and Armel shook his head. "I am mother of the man you just attempted to kill."

Armel's eyes widened and he seemed to shrink into himself further, his arms clasping tighter around his legs.

"Tell me, do you have a mother boy, one that is alive?"

Armel stayed silent and Athos knocked against the bars, sending out a loud bang which jolted the boy.

"Answer her."

Eyes flickering between Athos and Isabelle, Armel just nodded.

"And you love her?"

Another nod.

"I wonder what she is doing now. Most likely she has not heard word of what has occurred and is preparing to retire to bed. Maybe she is settling against the pillows and her thoughts are drifting to her son, wondering how he has got on today with his good, honourable job. I imagine she must be very proud of you, like any mother would be. I wonder how that will all change when she hears what you tried to do. I assume she would be sad, horrified even that her kind, little boy would dare do such a despicable thing.

"My mother loves me," Armel interrupted and Isabelle could just make out the beginnings of tears in his eyes.

"I am sure she does and even with this hideous crime she will probably continue to do so. Disappointment, however, is another matter entirely. How will she feel, knowing that the son she raised is an attempted murderer? That he is now condemned to the cell of a prison rather than the one she hoped for him. It is a life no mother wishes for her child and you have sentenced her to that. Once she could have bragged to her friends about her son; now she will keep silent. No longer will she get to embrace you, provide you one of her special home cooked meals. All because you tried to kill my boy. Was it really worth it?"

Tears now streamed down Armel's cheeks. "I wasn't aiming to kill…it just wasn't fair…," he muttered. He tucked his head to his knees, looking like he was trying to barricade himself from the world.

"It wasn't fair for my son to nearly lose his life thanks to your petty jealousy either," Isabelle snapped. "You do not know whether you would have killed him or not. Imagine how your mother would have felt if you were the victim of this and the shot had been fatal, accident or not. How her heart would have torn as she realised that she would never get to see her son again, never get to hold him in her arms or see him achieve a full, fulfilling life of his own. It is a mother's worst nightmare to have a child see God before them and you nearly made that nightmare a reality for me. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Isabelle's voice had become choked at the end but she pressed on, determined to make this boy understand what he actions had nearly caused.

Slowly, Armel's head rose. His eyes were rimmed a dark red and tears continued to flow from them.

"I…I am sorry."

"As well you should be. I just hope your mother's heart has not been broken irreparably. Athos, I believe I am ready to leave. "

Taking her arm, Athos escorted her from the building, leaving the crying boy behind.

"I know you may not think what I did necessary, that it was a waste of time, but I thank you for taking me there," Isabelle said.

Athos shook his head. "I do not think it was wasted time at all. You may have just given him a worst punishment than any man could have."

"Well, he did nearly kill my son," Isabelle sniffed.

"I was not saying it was a bad thing," Athos replied. "But your words have made me feel the need to apologise once more for the danger d'Artagnan was put in today. I would not want you to have to go through that and I apologise for nearly allowing it to happen."

Isabelle stopped Athos with a press of her hand against his shoulder.

"Were you not the one who told me that my son's life would be constantly put in peril from the dangers of being a Musketeer? I will admit I was not expecting it to come in the form of a jealous boy but all the same, do not apologise for things that are out of your control. You allowed nothing to happen. My guess is that even if you'd tried to stop him d'Artagnan would have still duelled that boy only instead of Porthos being there to stop him, the bullet would have struck its mark. You did all I could have asked of you Athos and more. You should see the way my son speaks of you in his letters. He thinks of you so highly and I must thank you for being there for him while I am not. You and your friends have done so much for my son. Why, you may as well be family.

Just like she had done with Porthos, Isabelle gave Athos a warm embrace coupled with a kiss on the cheek.

"You have taken great care of my boy Athos and there are no words that can express how thankful I am for your presence in his life."

Athos' grip on her tightened and if Isabelle had felt a slight wetness on her shoulder, she made no comment on it, only let the hug continue until Athos was ready to let go.

"You need not thank me madam. d'Artagnan is a good man and it is an honour to know him. It is no wonder though, considering he is your son."

"You're too kind Athos," Isabelle said as the hug broke. "And speaking of my son, we best get back to him."

By the time they returned it was well and truly night and the sight she was met with made her heart warm. Just as they'd promised, Porthos and Aramis had stayed with her son and currently they were curled around him protectively as they slept. Charles' head was cradled in Porthos' lap where he leant against the wall and Aramis was tucked against his side that was not next to his injured leg.

Rather than disturb them, Isabelle just quietly picked up a stool and placed it next to the bed so she could take Charles' hand in hers and rest against the wall. Her body would probably not thank her for the uncomfortable position in the morning but there was no way Isabelle would be leaving her son's bedside again. Just as quietly, Athos copied her so he was sitting opposite, giving her a small smile which she returned. Seeing these three men who all clearly cared for her son, Isabelle knew her son not only had his mother's love, but that of his brothers as well.

There may be some medical inaccuracies here and inaccuracies with how Armel would be dealt with but I just really wanted to write something else involving Isabelle.