Isabella

"Will Feyre be joining us." Nesta asks, more demands, once she is seated at the head of the table opposite Rhys. Funny how in human culture that would signify a marital status yet here it is nothing more than two opposing leaders.

"Your sister is out practising her... newfound abilities." Rhys smirks, as if knowing that those words would drive Isabella's twins insane.

"Abilities?" An arched brow, the careful placing down of her cutlery in favour of staring down the High Lord. "My sister has told me plenty about the different powers at play in Prythian so I wonder why she's out there and you're in here."

Oh she's good. That statement could be interpreted a number of ways and each one reveals a different thing about Feyre's relationship with the High Lord. Oliver fusses slightly, clearly done with the food and boring adult conversation. For a moment Isabella just holds onto him, blinking as she fights the urge to just hold onto him to him tightly it Elain's pointed look from across the table has her relenting.

The boy wastes no time sliding from her lap and carrying his various toys over to the fireplace behind Azriel and Elain. He pays no heed to how Azriel quickly tucks in his wings when Oliver walks past and for a moment Isabella wonders if he's even realised they are fae. But then.... The open fireplace. Isabella starts to rise, intending to brave walking path both winged males to move the fire guard in front but Azriel has already risen from his seat.

Nesta breaks off her meaningless argument with the High Lord, her gaze snapping to where Azriel approaches the fire place and Oliver.

"What are you doing." The words are so fast Isabella can almost mimic a whip cracking. Nesta looks to her in question, wondering why she is not panicking and Isabella wonders the same yet... somehow she knows he wouldn't hurt her son. Cassian was more of an accident liability but even from the short conversations held over dinner and breakfast has allowed her an insight into the males personalities and it's obvious that they are honourable. The little moment earlier when Cassian made no move to reprimand Oliver for being rude confirmed it.

"Just moving the fire guard." Azriel smoothly replies, but even if the answer was for Nesta he looks at Isabella. She stares back, unflinching but the male merely turns back and readjusts the fire guard while Oliver pays him no mind. It's as if he's already decided that these males are okay and safe.

"Bella." She turns at the sound of Elain's voice, realising for the first time that she had risen to her feet. Hastily sitting down, Isabella offers her sister an apologetic smile. "My apologies, what were you saying."

"Rhysand wishes to know when you will be going into the village." There's a tightness in her voice, the only displeasure she had ever seen Elain show. The table goes quiet, the males straightening up as they remember the mission they've been sent on. "I intended to leave after breakfast but if Feyre wishes to come with us-"

"We'll all come with you." Isabella raises her eyebrow at Rhysand's words but he merely forced a polite smile that borders on pained. "We need to scout the village anyway so we'll make it our last stop."

"Okay." Isabella states and she relishes in the surprised look on the male's face. Had he truly thought that she would object? There was no logical reason to so perhaps he expected her to do so out of spite or as a way to control the situation.

"I'll need to make a few other stops first." Isabella began and Rhysand leans back in his chair with a look that definitely says he was expecting her object in some way. "The post office is on the other end of the village and there are a few shops I need to visit on the way there." She focuses on patiently cutting her food, trying to hide the hunger clawing at her stomach with patient small strokes now that she can finally eat without Oliver nibbling at the food first.

"That's fine." The High Lord waves her statement with an air of benevolence as if he were graciously allowing her a gift. Nesta's cutlery clangs down onto the table at the same time as Isabella's.

"What Rhys means." Azriel interrupts, directing the twins' glares onto himself. "Is that were grateful your taking time out-"

"Do not resort to flattery." Nesta waves off before Isabella takes over. "It's most unbecoming of a male of your position."

There is a second of surprise where the males all blink in shock at the connected sentence. They had clearly not anticipated how the twins act and behave when together. Which is exactly how Isabella knows they are naive to the fact that she and Nesta just decided to knock them down a few pegs.

It's not like twin telepathy. She doesn't speak to her sister through looks or stares or though they have been known to do that from time to time. No it's simply just being raised side by side; Spending your early years attached at the hip. That instinct that allows you to instantly know their reaction or intentions in a certain situation.

"I assume you won't be walking my sister there out in the open." Nesta states, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs in the feminine mirror version of Rhys' relaxed pose with his ankle over knee. "We'll use a glamour to remain hidden."

"Is this a trick you will be teaching my sister?" Isabella asks, voice innocent and soft in a way that has Cassian and Azriel visibly on edge especially when a quick glance from Isabella to Elain has the younger sister scooping up Oliver and taking him from the room. "If she wants to learn how to then yes."

"How gracious of you to teach her." Nesta's eyes narrow and Rhys' gaze flicks back to her. "I'm sure she owes you a lot."

"We have a mutually beneficial deal. Your sister is working as my Emissary to the human realm." A title that hasn't existed in hundreds of years if my insomnia driven research last night is any indication. "She owes me nothing, especially after what she sacrificed for me and my people."

"And that warranted her a debt worth stealing her away and taking her into your home." I add on, smirking slightly when Rhysand's gaze swings back to me. "Not at all exactly like Tamlin."

"Unlike Tamlin I have no plans to lock your sister up or take away her choices." Rhysand's tone has taken on a dark edge. "And if you had bothered to pay any attention to your sister's tale you would know that I didn't steal her, she asked me to take her away."

"Which was ridiculous since Feyre was about to secure herself a safe and happy life with her fiancé." Nesta ignores the way Cassian and Azriel glare at her now.

"Your sister made a choice. She didn't love him, he didn't respect her or her decisions so I helped her get away."

"You really do love her," Isabella states and the table goes silent. "I admit, we had our doubts at the beginning. Feyre has such tremendous power now and a link to the human realms that had us suspecting you were more politically motivated to keep her safe."

"Granted of course, that you are." Nesta waves that off while Rhys' eyes widen slightly at being caught out. "But it's not just that is it? An Emissary title not used in over 200 years, pretty dresses and glittering crowns, yet our sister appears to be unaware of your advances."

"Willfully so." Isabella adds on having her suspicions as to why Feyre has been holding back and is seemingly in denial. "She talks little about what happened between the pair of you under the mountain. Yet there is something, some fear or memory, holding her back from caring about you."

"So what exactly did you do to our sister, Rhysand?" Nesta demands.

Silence.

"Not that it's any of your concern-"

"Oh but it is." Nesta drawls without an ounce of fear. "Either you tell us what happened or that letter and your meeting and the Queens are out of the picture."

Silence

No one dared to breathe as the eldest sister stared down the High Lord.

"That is not my story to tell." Rhys' voice was hoarse, regret and guilt plain on his face before he rose to his feet. "If you'll excuse me. Your sister is expecting me." He doesn't wait for an answer before striding from the room. Nesta snorts before returning to her food, her movement only a tad more aggressive.

"Was that necessary?" Azriel drawls and Isabella can practically feel Cassian's surprise at the male bored question. "There was no need to wind him up and but Feyre in a compromising position."

"On the contrary, dear Spymaster." The male stiffens at Isabella's words. No one had mentioned their roles or titles beyond that they work for the High Lord. "I think we all just learned more in the past 2 minutes than in the- what, 3 months you've had?"

Something akin to surprise flashes in the spymaster's eyes. He clearly wasn't expecting her to be so bold but she would be returning to Tomas today and was keen to enjoy her last minutes of freedom.

"Your High Lord is too lenient waiting on my sister's whims, so shall we head to the village now?"

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Azriel

Isabella would make a good spy Azriel decided as he watched the woman in question politely chat away to one of the vendors. She was brash and had little patience but that was all things that would come with time. But here she was with Oliver on her hip and inquiring after the vendor's trip from the continent, the picture perfect image of a curious mother with a kind heart asking about a friend's trip.

Except she was finding out which ships were travelling the fastest, which took longer, where they stopped and what kind of water damage they received. Azriel had to confess that he had forgotten the Human postal system was connected through ships to the continent. Logically he had known that was the case but hadn't had the foresight to find out which ship would be best to send the letter on.

If she had been Fae he would have considered training her as one of his spies.

"How much longer is she going to take?" Cassian mutters from the shadows beside him. They'd glamoured themselves and then stuck to the side streets to avoid bumping into humans. "This is the third person she has stopped to help."

Ordinarily he knew that his brother would have been impressed by a woman with very little spending time on orphans and the homeless. Especially since Isabella was able to offer them much needed medical care. "Is she intentionally wasting our time?"

"Are you going to spit out what's really bothering you?" Azriel drawled knowing full well it was Isabella's attitude towards Rhys but Cassian only huffled. He was clearly still upset by Azriel's apparent lack of loyalty during breakfast. "They were protecting their sister-"

"They have a funny way of going about it."

"Did we not do the same to Feyre?" Azirel arches a brow. "Sure, we might have been smoother and more subtle but we asked about her home, her family, what she did under the mountain. It was a miracle Rhys didn't stop our obvious interrogation."

"We didn't insult or question Feyre's morals." Cassian counters as they follow Isabella to the next stall.

"She didn't need to be questioned."

"And Rhys did?"

Azriel stares at him.

"Don't answer that."

"All I'm saying is that Rhys is a powerful Fae male, one with influence and a bad reputation. If I had a sister that was in Feyre's position I would be pissed too."

Cassian is silent in the way that usually means he is doing something akin to thinking. Azriel had often wondered what was going on inside his head. How Cassian was capable of coming up with a flawless battle plan, winning at every strategic game and having an emotional openness that quite frankly terrified Azriel at times. Except... well he wasn't exactly the brightest at times was he? Like when he tried to ride one of the Winter court Polar Bears. Now that wasn't a particularly smart decision considering the three large claw marks that reside on his chest.

"Do you think we're missing something?" Azriel pauses, now this could be a strategy issue if Cassian is referring to the Queen and the plan- "About the Archeron sisters."

And it's idle gossip.

The shadows were immensely pleased. None of them hesitating to bounce theories off of him.

"I think we will always miss something." Azriel begins slowly, trying to understand if Cassian was concerned for the Archeron sisters or if this was a gateway for his grief surrounding his homeland, his mother and the treatment of females and bastards there. "There are sides to stories, especially ones like Feyre's and the Twins. Not to mention we can't understand the external factors that affected them, the way they raised, their culture, their-"

"I get it, I know, I know." Cassian waves him, flexing his hands in an unconscious tick as stares at the back of Isabella's head as she talks with a blacksmith. "Can you see it- their hunger?"

Azriels sighs, "This is a tough place Cassian."

"Why hasn't she gone back to her sisters?" The words are out in one breath, the mind of the General coming into play as Cassian runs through every scenario and possibility. "She has a son for Mother's sake. Why wouldn't she ask her sisters for help? Look at the boy's boots, his cloak."

"Maybe she did."

"Maybe she's too proud to ask for help."

"The boy has the newest clothes, between them." Azriel interrupts, a sharp edge to his voice. "Isabella has prioritised her son over herself. You saw the way she protected him during breakfast."

"And the way she challenged Rhys' intentions with Feyre."

"Cassian, you need to move on from that." Azriel sighs, fighting the urge to rub at his forehead as a headache builds.

"She was challenging a High Lord but cowered when her son glared at me." The look in Cassian's eyes has Azriel tensing.

"It's her business, Cassian." His voice is lethal but his own rage builds at Cassian's implication. There was none of the usual signs of abuse. No bruises, no fear at the sight of men. Isabella was proud and appeared strong but... it was that look, the exhaustion, the desperation, the mannerism she had reflected his mother. "It is not our place to say anything."

Cassian was clearly disappointed by his words but Azriel had nothing else to tell him. There was no argument that could convince Cassian to stand down. To stop that instinct that screamed for him to protect her. Azriel felt it too. That urge to protect her. It was the same he had felt with his mother, with Rhys' sister and the priestesses. That animalistic urge that hadn't been trampled out over the centuries like the high fae.

He would always have those thoughts, like Cassian does and sometimes Rhys. It was the pack-instict he remembered Rhysand's mother telling them. The one that demanded they protect the vulnerable and remained loyal to each other.

The Archerons were similar in that way he mused, watching as Isabella left Oliver playing with one of the Post Office displays as she talked with the shopkeeper. She was doing this for her sisters. Out of loyalty. Maybe out of guilt but she and her son appear more fae than most.

Oliver looks up. He pauses for a moment, eyes widening before a small smile tugs at his face and he waves. It's only when the shadows whisper that the boy is waving at them does Azriel lift his own hand. It would truly seem that the pair of them fit in with Fae more than humans. 

A/N: And that's the last of the Human Realm visit. I'm eager to get on with some character development and plot. Please comment any requests or ideas that you would like to see