Athos observed as d'Artagnan sparred with Aramis. The boy, whom they had only met mere months ago, had improved in leaps and bounds since joining their close knit group. Athos was confident that Treville would allow d'Artagnan to become a Musketeer within the year and he took pride in knowing that it was with their help that it was possible. Beside him, Porthos chuckled as Aramis gave d'Artagnan a false sense of security before knocking him onto his backside. d'Artagnan looked up at Aramis petulantly whilst the other Musketeer extended a hand to him, offering tips of improvement. d'Artagnan took that offered hand but instead of allowing himself to be pulled up, took Aramis down with him so he could leap from the ground and place his sword on Aramis' chest.
Porthos let out a full belly laugh at the site and d'Artagnan looked over to him with a wide grin. Aramis too was laughing and gracefully accepted the defeat, as cheated as it was. With no tricks, d'Artagnan hauled Aramis and the two walked over to their companions.
As they sat, Athos saw d'Artagnan look towards him out of the corner of his eye. Athos knew it was because, unlike the others, he had made no reactions towards the stunt yet and for some reason, he was the one the boy sought the most approval from. Why d'Artagnan would choose a man such as he to be his apparent mentor, Athos would never understand, yet he humoured the boy whom he was beginning to grow rather fond of.
"You need to work on getting out of defence," he said, "and in a true dual what you just did would not be considered honourable." A put out expression fell on d'Artagnan's face and so he continued. "However, Aramis has never been particularly honourable himself so I dare say you needn't worry about that." Aramis let out a huff at his words but the quirk of his lips betrayed his humour. d'Artagnan's posture eased and he smiled, lifting his sword once more.
"So, who's next?"
"Young man you put that sword down right now!"
d'Artagnan's eyes widened and the sword would have fallen from his grasp even if the voice hadn't told him to, the shock he was in. The four friends all turned towards the source of the sound to see that a few feet away, bounding towards them, was a woman. She was fairly short, with tan skin and long dark hair tied into a messy bun. Even from a distance, Athos had no doubt she had been a woman of great beauty in her youth as her aging skin did little to dampen her appearance. What she was doing there, Athos didn't know, but apparently, d'Artagnan did.
"Mama?"
Aramis raised an eyebrow to Porthos and mouthed 'mama?. In response, Porthos just shrugged and watched the reunion play out in front of them.
"Don't you 'mama' me boy. Where have you been?! Do you have any idea what it's been like since your father died? I had to sort out all the affairs myself, something I had hoped my son would do in such a time! But oh no, instead I get a measly letter to find out he has gallivanted off to Paris to become a Musketeer! And thanks to the work load I was left with I have to wait until everything is sorted until I can go and find him to tell him what an idiotic child he has been!"
d'Artagnan's face had turned bright red and his mouth was slightly agape, his shock not diminishing in the slightest. Behind him, Aramis and Porthos were trying to conceal their snickers and even Athos was poorly attempting to hide a smirk at the boy's embarrassment.
"Mama, please…," d'Artagnan pleaded when the surprise wore off. He wasn't allowed to finish though as his mother interrupted. Athos recognised the signs of a woman on a mission and felt the barest hints of sympathy for the boy.
"Don't you turn those eyes on me, they will not work!" She took a step forward and instead of embracing her child like many mothers would, delivered a sharp smack to the back of her son's head.
"Ow!" d'Artagnan rubbed the back of his head with a grimace but his mother was unsympathetic.
"You owe me an apology right now."
"Well I would have given one had you let me finish instead of interrupting," d'Artagnan muttered and his mother's eyes narrowed on him.
"What was that?" She asked sharply.
Shrinking into himself slightly, d'Artagnan averted his gaze and said, "Sorry mother."
"As well you should be! You have a lot of explaining to do my boy…but oh, first you must introduce me to these fine, strapping gentlemen." d'Artagnan's mother turned to the trio with interested eyes.
"My name is Aramis," Aramis said as he stood, giving d'Artagnan's mother a charming smile and taking her hand so he press a kiss upon it. "This is Porthos, and he is Athos. We are friends of your son."
Isabelle giggled at the kiss and looked at the three men appraisingly.
"Well, my son could certainly have done worse. You may call me Isabelle. Tell me, has he got into my trouble since he's been here?"
d'Artagnan's head shot up at that and he silently signalled to his friends to keep quiet wide, panicked gestures. Of course, the good friends that they were, they assured him they would with nods and d'Artagnan gave them a grateful smile in return. However, d'Artagnan should have learnt by now that his friends were not the most honest of men and any chance for mischief could not be left untaken.
"Not really. Oh, there was that one time he tried to kill Athos upon meeting him," Porthos said, a finger tapping thoughtfully against his chin.
"What?" Isabelle swivelled and pierced her son, who was currently glaring daggers at Porthos, with an intense stare. "Is this true?"
"Well, yes, but…please let me explain!" He begged, trying to stop another rant. "There may have been a…misunderstanding but I assure you that everything was sorted out and it is fine now!"
His words did nothing to please Isabelle. "Anything else I should know?" She asked.
Athos could see Aramis toying with an idea, most likely thinking of the mission with Vadim but he wisely kept quiet. Telling Isabelle how close her son came to death would not be humorous in the slightest.
"No, I would say that's all," Aramis ended up saying.
"Good. You have no idea what he was like as a child, always running around picking fights with the other children. They always deserved it of course, my son was no bully after all, but my, what a temper he had!" Isabelle confided to them with exasperation.
Porthos laughed. "I believe he still has that temper madam, it is what caused Athos to be on the wrong end of his sword after all!"
Isabelle gave a woeful sigh. "I do try and tell him to rein it in but it never seems to work. I have no idea where he gets it from…"
"I wonder," d'Artagnan muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. The words may have been spoken quietly but Isabelle appeared to have the hearing of a hawk as she once more faced him.
"Do not take that tone with me young man," she ordered, the temper of which d'Artagnan was calling hypocrisy over returning.
"…Sorry mother."
It was strange, Athos mused, how quickly d'Artagnan changed when his mother was around. It was not as if d'Artagnan didn't have his childish moments around them but with his mother around they were much more obvious and frequent. It was not a bad thing though, even though d'Artagnan was being rebuked and embarrassed, the love he had for his mother was quite evident.
"You needn't be so hard on the lad," Athos said, taking some pity on the boy. "He has been a fine addition to our small team and I have no doubt he will be a fine Musketeer that any mother would be proud of."
Isabelle then did something rather unexpected considering her previous behaviour. She burst into tears and gathered d'Artagnan in a tight hug. A panicked expression overtook d'Artagnan's face as he hesitantly returned the hug, patting her back gently.
"Don't cry mama, please…"
"Oh, my boy! Look at what you've got for yourself here! I know I have been harsh but I am proud of you and I know your father would be too if he could see you now."
d'Artagnan bit his lip and hugged his mother tighter. Sensing that they were now intruding on a personal moment, the three men went to leave but before they could get further than a few feet they were stopped.
"No! Stay, stay. Look, see, I have already stopped crying! I want to find out more about the men my son has befriended. Especially you." Isabelle sent Aramis a wink causing a strangled noise to come out of d'Artagnan.
"Mama! Aramis is barely half your age!"
"And does that not mean I cannot have a little fun? Especially after the extremely stressful time I have had no thanks to a certain son of mine?" Isabelle questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, no…," d'Artagnan said, cheeks colouring, "but…"
"Then there is no problem!" Isabelle clapped her hands brightly, ignoring d'Artagnan's horrified face. "Now come along, tell me everything that has happened…" Isabelle latched onto Aramis' arm and the two began walking off. d'Artagnan turned to Athos and Porthos with a pained expression.
Porthos grinned and clapped d'Artagnan on the back. "Come on then, let's follow them, lest you start calling Aramis 'papa'".