Azriel

He didn't particularly enjoy leaving Cassian and their mate alone together when they were having a... tiff but Azriel rationalised it as them being grown adults and him letting them sort out their issues.

Which is exactly what he told them.

"Yeah, I'm not doing this." Azriel states, taking his plate to the sink.

"What?" Cassian exclaims, clearly baffled by Azriel's out of character statement. "What are you not doing."

Azriel waves at them with his soap covered fork, "The two of you. You're grown adults, and I am your mate. Not your therapist."

"That is vaguely healthy behaviour but must you chose to be emotionally healthy now?" Cassian sighs and Azriel smirks at his lover. "Isabella and I are fine!"

"Oh we most certainly aren't, pretty boy." Isabella leans back in her chair at the head of the table, sippin from her wine.

Cassian's nervous gulp is audible.

He turns back to Azriel, "Can I come with you?"

The House of Wind was quiet and filled with darkness as he stalked through the halls. Not even the moonlight could make much of dent against the looming shadows that had grown in the High Lord's despair.

Azriel found his brother brooding in his office, chair turned to the large window behind his desk– one that practically invited long distance assassination attempts– and was staring down upon the city of starlight.

For a moment Azriel just leant against the far wall, content to let Rhys take his time.

"Will neither of my brothers leave me in peace tonight?" He sounds tired, weary.

But Rhys has been like that since under the mountain. So Azriel dragged the chair in front of his desk to beside the High Lord. Settling down quietly, content to just watch the city with his brother.

It was a peaceful night. There was dancing in the town square, couples twirling and laughing under the warm glow of the string lanterns criss-crossing between the surrounding buildings. The market was full of a different kind of bustle, less patrons and more shop keepers preparing for the evening turnover as the night market took over from the day.

Even from high up here Azriel could just about hear the music drifting up from Velaris' Opera house. Perhaps it was his imagination more than the reality but this was the city he wanted his mate to see. To have Oliver grow up in.

The one full of local businesses, music, art and life. They had five main universities in Velaris, two specialised in the sciences, three were dedicated to various forms of social studies and the other was for the arts. They were Rhys' pride and joy. During his father's rein there had only been two rival universities. One for science, one for social subjects and they only allowed the high fae entry. It was still a tough battle for inclusion, especially with the running cost of each university forcing students to pay a sum, but they were making progress.

That was the future he wanted Oliver to have. A choice and an education.

Eventually a glass of whiskey clicked down onto the side table next to the shadowsinger. A peace offering of sorts, one conjured up by the High Lord.

"Are you here to threaten me again?" There's amusement lacing Rhys' tone but his brother doesn't bother to hide his exhaustion. "That's a treasonable offence."

"You should call your spymaster then... get him to asses the threat."

The pair slowly turn to each other, sharing a small smile, nothing more than a quirk of the lips before returning their gaze to the city sprawled out before them.

"I forgot how full of life it is." Azriel doesn't tense at Rhys' words, letting him talk free of judgement. "It's so... social."

"There was a time of mourning when you first left but the city bounced back."

You will too, went unspoken between them.

"I can't go back to how I was before."

"None of us can." Azriel counters, "we move forward constantly, for better or worse."

Rhys snorts, "Something tells me I got worse."

Azriel sighs, "Don't be so boringly egotistical. You managed to keep a few morals while you were away, that's impressive."

"Not enough of them."

"The find them again, or new versions of them."

There's a lapse in the conversation as Rhys thinks. Azriel quietly sips on his drink.

"Isabella is scared of me."

"Cassian spoke out of turn–"

"But he was right."

Azriel placed his glass down with a resounding clink.

"She's wary of you. She's an intelligent woman, she can sense a change in your behaviour."

Rhys twists his head to the side, stretching the muscles in his neck. "That's a pretty way of saying she's scared of me."

"Should she be?"

"I don't know." He replies far too quietly. "Maybe."

"Is that your emotions clouding your assessment?"

"I did a lot of horrible things, Azriel."

"And look who you're talking to." Azriel turns to him but Rhys still stares out the window. "Isabella isn't afraid of me."

"You're in control."

Az tilts his head, watching the stoic male. "If it's control that worries you–"

"You are also her mate."

Azriel falls silent.

His brother waves a hand, refilling their glasses. Az downs the whiskey in one gulp, he's going to need it.

"What I said before–"

"Was right."

"Was insecurity talking."

Rhys turns to him, a slight hint of bewilderment clouding his features. Not enough to constitute a real emotion buts in the most he's expressed this whole time.

"Have you been going to therapy?" He sounds so baffled that Azriel can't help but snort, chuckling a little to himself.

"You haven't?" He arches a brow, keeping his tone light and playful, knowing how Rhys can get sometimes when it comes to emotions. "After everything you went through you just plan to keep it all bottled up."

Rhys sighs, rubbing at his forehead.

"Please don't tell me you told your therapist court–"

"For mother's sake Rhys I'm professional, a spymaster no less, not an idiot." He huffs, turning back to the window. "There are discreet channels you can go through."

"Azriel." He warns but Azriel has been pushing his brothers' buttons since the day they met.

"Bargains can be struck. Deals can be made."

Rhys sighs, "It's not that simple."

Azriel hisses, sucking at his teeth. "I've always hated that phrase."

The High Lord remains silent, quite possibly sensing Azriel's need to have a teaching moment.

"It's as easy as you make it." Az begins smiling bitterly at the thought of all the people who told him it was too complicated. "Some things you just have to accept, others you have to stop hiding from."

"You can make a million excuses," Azriel leans back in his chair, head tilting up to the ceiling. "And when everyone of those excuses are broken down and defeated you are left with the argument of 'it's not that simple' because that statement is a lie."

"I find it to be a summary of issues."

"Ones that you can allow to control you, or ones you just have to deal with." Azriel trails off at the end, whispering pointedly to the High Lord. "What problems are holding you back then."

Rhys snorts, deflecting "Is this your introduction to therapy course?"

"Nah, the introduction was all the nights spent in pubs and bars sharing life problems over a pint of beer. The most common form of group therapy right there, and none of the participants needed a medical licence."

Rhys rolls his eyes, "I think that's the most you've ever spoken."

"I'm making an exception for your morose soul."

"How generous of you."

"Isabella has Cassian on the sofa tonight." Azriel begins, not entirely sure why he's bringing it up but–

"Good. I thought she wouldn't be pleased with the passive sexism."

And that right there is why Rhys and Isabella need each other. It took a long time for Azriel to acknowledge it, let alone somewhat accept it. They understand each other, they're so similar.

It's easy for anyone to see that Isabella goes to Cassian for emotional comfort and protection, she comes to Azriel for advice and parenting, and Rhys... Rhys she goes to for her passions, for her topics and interest.

They have so many in common that Azriel suspects they could spend hours talking and never run out of material.

Slight problem with that. He can't tell if they're friends or something more and he would really like to know because his half of the bond occasionally throws a fit about the pair and then sometimes just completely accepts their interactions.

"Rhys is there any chance that Isabella–"

"Don't."

"Rhys." Azriel calmly admonishes, twisting his head enough to peer at the male from the corner of his eye. "We need to talk about this—"

"Oh dear gods."

"Rhys-"

"No! All you want to do is talk, talk, talk." Rhys snaps, finally turning to face Azriel head on with a thunderous expression. "You and Cassian. It's like the two of you are obsessed wit knowing every little detail of every thought and feeling going on in people's head."

"Communication is important, and we're trying to start our relationship— with Isabella," Azriel stumbled over the mistake. "Off on the right foot."

"Oh please." Rhys rolls his eyes. "I'm not blind, you and Cassian have started up some form of relationship—"

A snarl rips from his throat before he can stop it. Rhys snarls straight back, not backing down.

"My apologies that the two of you have had a weird and unhealthy relationship for the past few centuries but neither Isabella or I should be suffering the consequences of that."

"How have you two been suffering—"

"The conversations Azriel!l Rhys cried in frustration, trailing off into a bitter laugh. "Cassian wants to talk about Isabella and I, you want to talk about under the mountain, you both seem to be cornering Isabella to talk about something— which, I swear to the mother, if it's a sex talk about the two of you what the two of you like I'm going to have your heads — and poor Isabella is avoiding me and missing out on apparently the only conversations she wants to have, political one! Intellectually interesting ones!"

"Are you calling us stupid?"

"That's what you're focusing on from everything I've said." Rhys demands, shaking his head. "No, Azriel. Just because you are having a conversation does not mean you're communicating."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

Isabella

"What did I do wrong?" Cassian worries, sounding suitably sheepish as we finish cleaning up the dinner table.

Oliver is occupied in his room, so they'll have a bit of alone time before the bedtime routine begins. Isabella has no intention of deviating from that plan, she's still traumatised by the tantrum that happened the last time she deviated from the plan.

"Have you seriously not worked it out?" Isabella demands, genuinely disappointed in her mate. "This evening for starters."

Cassian pales, "I- I was out of line. Completely out of line."

"You were." She nods, "multiple times."

He pauses, clearly not picking up on her meaning. Isabella scoffs. Clearly the internalised sexism was not obvious to the male, he was going to need a serious attitude change.

"Shall we start with you reducing me to a sex object because of a petty insecure argument with your brother. Then we can finish the conversation with how you completely dismissed my thoughts and opinions."

Cassian nods to himself, drying the last plate as Isabella pours herself a cup of tea. She had a glass of wine with dinner but she's not involving alcohol with this argument. Settling down at the head of the kitchen table she waits for Cassian to finish and pick his own chair.

He could:

Sit at the opposite head of the table and declare himself and opponent in a position of power.

Sit next to her and shift his chair, forcing her to shift hers to face him so that they're equals

Pick a chair somewhere in the middle of the table, putting distance between them and changing the intimate nature of an argument into a debate

Naturally he does neither of the above and stays next to the sink. Leaning against the counter behind him, Cassian folds his arms, sighing as he watches Isabella. Well he certainly chose to put some distance between them.

Her mothers lesson reminds her that he's trying to separate the discussion and problem from himself. Perhaps avoiding responsibility.

"I got so fixated on Rhys that I started lashing out." Cassian glances down to his feet before meeting her gaze. "I dragged you into my mess and treated you awfully."

"You completely ignored me," Isabella countered, arching a brow. "Almost as if you had decided now that we are in a relationship you no longer need to consider me, only if there are others interfering."

"Iz, it's not like that—" Cassian is next to her in two strides, settling into the chair next to her. "

"Really?" She drawls, not letting any emotion show. "Because it certainly feels like you and Azriel are trying to fit me into your relationship."

Cassian swallows nervous. "We all knew it would be struggle with Azriel and I—"

"A struggle?" She echoes, straightening up. "You've made no effort to actually talk to me, to be involved in our lives in a practical way."

"We thought you wanted time to settle in," his eyes turn pleading, begging for her to understand. "And we want to talk with you, hear what—"

"Maybe I don't want to talk with you." She challenges, voice so cold that Cassian leans back in his chair away from her. "I don't want to share every little detail of my thoughts and life with you. I don't want to live my life and then come back and report to you what happened."

"Then what do you want?" Cassian croaks, eyes watery and Isabella stops short.

What does she want?

She wants them, Cassian and Azriel. She wants to wake up by their side, cook dinner together, take turns making breakfast, raise Oliver with them but she also- also wants Rhys.

That's part of the reason she's struggling. She feels as if she's not spoken to an adult in ages, between Oliver and the intermittent dates with her mates she's been talking about fluffy subjects. Which was a dream for a while but now she wants the reality.

Which is truthfully not shaping up to be too great. What with hundreds of years old fae who are set in their ways.

She wants them all on equal uneven footing. Not Cassian and Azriel living together and trying to work out their relationship, while she and Rhys exist on the sidelines. She wants all of them together, at the beginning.

And she wants everyone in therapy. Even if the thought bothers her a little, humans don't really talk about their issues but Azriel has been raving about how beneficial it can be. Isabella's pretty sure it's because he's worried about what her reaction has been to...

Well...

Her throat turns dry at the thought of what happened. She hadn't been able to stomach the sight of fire, not close up at least, nor the smell of burning meat. In truth she hadn't been there to witness old grandfather Mandray's death but she saw the commotion from afar. Knew that the Mandrays would have been in uproar at the sight of their burning patriarch.

It had been tough, those first nights and the month after. Azriel had been there for her, not for conversation but for company. They spent most evenings just sitting together in silence, watching the stars. But after the first few weeks, she had grown used to it.

She wouldn't apologise for protecting her son, not from the man who abused them. Who relished in causing physical pain, the cause of her son's bruises. And when she had remember that thought a week into her stay at Velaris she had slept like a baby ever fucking since.

"I want us to actually talk for once." She begins, and Cassian doesn't interrupt her. "Because you love Azriel, and he loves you."

Cassian doesn't insult with reassurances, they both know this isn't self doubt.

"But we're not balanced. The two of you have tried to force your relationship back in time in a misguided attempt to help me." She nervously licks her lips, wondering if she dares to say it. "You're making issues where there aren't any out of fear."

"You're not comfortable with us." Cassian states, accepting her statement but still worrying.

"I'm not ready for you." She whispers, shrugging a little. "No conversation is going to change that."

"It helped us." Cassian's voice is a little hoarse. "Talking helped Azriel cope with all the shit he's dealt with. He– we, wanted to help you as well."

Isabella nods, "Through the only way you knew how."

Cassian nods but he's still waiting, still looking at her. He knows there's more. Isabella takes a steadying breath, straightening her back as she faces Cassian head on.

"This relationship won't work without all of us, Cassian." His eyes darken. "Not only will the mate bonds not allow it to but we also know that we don't have balance without all of us."

"He doesn't do sharing, Iz." Cassian's voice is low, almost laced with fear as old wounds surface. "We can be happy with the three of us."

Iz shakes her head, eyes watering. "No we can't. Hasn't the past months proven that?"

"Iz-"

"You need Azriel and I need Rhys."

Cassian stills.

"I'm sorry," She croaks, feeling like its a betrayal. "But I need him, his input, his support. And the two of you need him in two. Maybe not romantically but this relationship was built for four people and it's collapsing with only three."

Cassian clears his throat, "I need time to think about it."

She nods, heart breaking "how long?"

Cassian rises to his feet, forcing a sad smile. "Not long, sweetheart. An evening and night to sleep on it."

She nods as he slowly gathers his coat and she follows him to the door, "Take tomorrow as well to talk with Azriel. We can all go to the beach the day after."

Cassian pauses in the doorway, hand resting on the doorknob.

"All of us?"

"Yes. All of us.

A/N: Lots of thanks to Jen who gave me a different perspective in her last comment. You challenged my own perspective on what was happening in the novel and I really enjoyed working out what Cas and Az's behaviour looks like from another perspective. As a result... I got a little bitter with Cazriel and wrote an interlude chapter from my original plan.