Isabella

"Do not," Cassian said with a deadly quiet, "insult her." The guards shifted at his approach but the raw terror that had been clawing at Isabella's throat stumbled when her friend came to stand behind her. "Do not insult Isabella for doing your job, for protecting her family."

"And is it protection that you offer her in return for-"

"Enough." Isabella whispered, cutting off the queen and the room seemed to go still. "I am not sure what you hope to achieve by threatening a child but it has certainly shown your true character." If she had a fraction of hope that Rhys and her sister could persuade the queens it was long gone now. "The great Queens of the Human Realm... reduced to petty insults and veiled threats. If you cannot weather this meeting without your parlour tricks and distractions then you will not survive the war."

Isabella met the eldest queen's gaze, holding it as the queen looked at her with something akin to respect.

"War is coming, whether you like it or not. And you will not win. We will not win. Survivors will be slaves, and their children's children will be slaves too. You claim to have heard of the High Lord, so you cannot play naive to the Red Queen's atrocities." Rhys stiffened at her side. "She was a mere general, one in the line of many. Imagine what an army like her might do."

Feyre's throat bobbed in the corner of her eye but Isabella focused Cassian's solid weight at her back. She focused on the broad hand resting on the back of her chair, so close to her shoulder that she could feel the heat of it through her velvet dress.

"Give them the book." She commanded, chin raised as the Queens stared her down. "Or don't. I intend on fighting for my people, and my son. If you cannot say the same for you and yours then get out of our way."

With those parting words Isabella rose to her feet. The guards' hands dropped to the pommel of their swords but the wisest among them blanched at Cassian's low growl as he offered Isabella his arm.

The pair strode from the room and Isabella didn't dare let her tears show until they were alone.

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Azriel

He tried not to let his eyes flutter shut when Isabella strode past him. Her headying scent was maddening when all he wanted to do was get on his knees and beg for mercy after that damn speech.

She was a force to be reckoned with. No, actually, not a force or a storm. Isabella wasn't some poet's muse, some whimsical woman whose brief bouts of confidence were described as hurricanes and hell-fire by weak men. 

She wasn't some feeble creature to be admired.

Not some petty little thing who was pitied for her gender so every flash of personality and common sense was treated like a miracle.

No, Isabella wasn't a storm, or a hurricane. There were no wildfires, floods or hailstorms. She was just the raw honest truth. The Queens it would seem saw that truth too. For the eldest stared after Isabella even as Mor prattled on, talking about the mother, destiny and fate that brought Feyre and Rhys together.

Because at the heart of all this, even though the Queens had never intended on giving us the book they most certainly gave Isabella their respect. They admire each other. He had seen it in Isabella's eyes, in the Golden Queen's raised chin. The way the black and white queens, the mirror image of the other had grinned and frowned at her. At the reflection she offered them.

For it would take someone like them to understand someone like Isabella.

To see the masks and the false beauty. The parading of virtues for the sole purpose for beguiling men, courtiers and entire nations into doing their bidding.

None of them were beautiful and that's what made them all stunning.

Azriel had interrogated a lot of cruel people in his life. A lot of liars and spies. Thieves and murderers. Yet it was this kind of honest trickery that he had always admired. Because it was the truth and his line of work that was hard to come by.

Perhaps that was why he named his blade Truth-Teller. He found that he often sought out the truth, constantly seeking answers to questions he didn't know how to ask.

Maybe that's why he had devoted himself to Morrigan.

Once upon a time Azriel would have grouped Mor with the Queens and Isabella. Citing that their beauty came from raw honesty, the truth they saw in others, in society, and then used it against their enemies.

But Morrigan had never been honest, not once in her life. He had thought it was all an act, a trick to control others. The pretty smiles, the stunning makeup and revealing dresses. He thought she was playing into someone else's role to get what she wanted.

Except the more he looked at her the more he saw the truth she sought to hide. The one she trapped herself in with those wine bottles and stereotypes.

Even after all this time she still wasn't free from her father's beliefs.

"We are summoned by no one, human or faerie." The Golden Queen simpered and Azriel finally came out of his daze

He could practically hear Feyre's silent realisation that the Queens had taken so long to reply as a power move. The little frown on her face was quite frankly adorable. Cute in the exact same way one coos at a naive and innocent child.

He thinks it's time to have some words with Rhys.

"Then come at your leisure," Rhys bites out with enough of a threat that the Queen's guards step forward. Azriel grins at them, knowing full well the action was more akin to a snarl than a smile.

Unsurprisingly most of those guards paled. Azriel did his best to relish in their fear instead of dwelling on it. Of dwelling on how another certain human might react to this side of him.

Rhys barely inclined his head as he added, "Perhaps then you'll comprehend how vital the Book is to both our efforts."

"We will consider it once we have your proof." The ancient one nearly spat the word and Azriel prayed that his face didn't convey his confusion. He really should have paid attention in that meeting. Though it wasn't hard to guess that she was referring to Velaris from the Rhys seemed to be reminding himself that she was old and royal, and smacking that sneer off her face would not be in our best interest. "That book has been ours to protect for five hundred years. We will not hand it over without due consideration."

At least they had some common sense.

The guards flanked them- as if the words had been some predetermined signal. Which it probably was considering he, Cas and Rhys had agreed 'All we ask it that you consider our request' as their cue to get everyone the fuck out of here.

The Golden Queen smirked at Nesta and Azriel tried not to bristle at who the Queen was talking to through the twin. "Good Luck."

Then they were gone. The human sisters hadn't flinched this time at the winnowing and Azriel cursed himself for not expl- for not getting Cassian to explain to Isabella what the shadow travel was. It was probably a shock to her and Azriel tried to pretend that he wasn't already working out every way to make the Fae world less scary to her.

But in the quiet of the suddenly too big sitting room it was Elain who raised her chin and muttered, "I hope they all burn in hell."

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Isabella

"I am... so- so sorry." Isabella's voice was strained as she sat hunched over. "Oh, I screwed everything up-"

"You did not screw anything up." Cassian's voice is firm, leaving no room for argument and Isabella does her best to listen to him. "And you have no reason to be sorry."

She found that hard to believe considering she was curled over herself, head in hands, elbows on her knees and tucked away into the corner of the kitchen as she hid from the world.

Cassian sighed and the sound was so close to her that she shivered. He was being so patient with her that it almost brought a fresh round of tears to the surface. She was being so damn pathetic. Isabella scrubbed at her face in frustration, scrunching her eyes shut as she dragged her hand through her hair.

"Hey, hey." Cassian interrupts touching her for the first time as he grabs her hands. "None of that, there's no need for that."

Isabella doesn't know why she listens to him considering she rarely listens to anyone when she gets like this. Maybe it was the soft voice, the way he didn't get angry or blame her for tugging at her hair and clawing her skin for any sense of grounding.

Or maybe it was because he let her keep her head tucked down, eyes closed so she didn't have to look at him as he held her hands. Cassian was so much bigger than her. His rough hands engulfing hers as he traces patterns on her skin and massages her palm.

"How did they know about Oliver?" She whispers, dreading his answer as his hands squeeze hers. "Did you tell them?"

"No." Cassian's voice has gone thick. "I swear, I would never put you or Tiny in harms way."

"Tiny?" She sniffles, trusting his word and the male chuckles.

When Isabella gathers the courage to look up she finds Cassian sat before her, so close their toes almost touch. He staring at her with a certain fondness, a soft smile that has her smiling back.

"Well..." he mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Oliver is quite small."

She smiles at the thought of her son even as reminders of why he's so small haunts her. A better life. Isn't that what she should be wanting for him? For both of them. And sure she does want them to have a better life but it wasn't until the Queens pointed out her being with the fae like she as doing it for protection that she actually-

"What's going on in that busy head of yours, hmm?" Cassian whispers, ducking his head down so that he can peer up at her. "I can hear the wheels turning in your brain."

He probably could as well with those fae senses.

"How did the Queens get here- that was magic, wasn't it?" She frown slightly, feeling her nose scrunch up in confusion. Cassian's gaze drops down and she quickly smooths out her expression but not before his lips tug up in a soft laugh.

"We call it winnowing." Cassian states, "It's a type of rare magic that allows a person to travel from place to another in a blink. The distance depends on how much power and practice you have. The way it feels to travel can depend on a person's magic as well. Rhys' winnowing differs from Azriels's."

"Azriel can winnow?" She can hear the surprise in her voice. Cassian raises his brows at her and she blushes, cursing her frazzled emotion for all these physical reactions. "I know Rhys can winnow, the damn male left in the middle of a conversation once-"

"You'll get used to that."

"But Azriel was always flying or walking places."

Cassian looks at her expectantly but Isabella just mutters a questioning 'what' that has the male rolling his eyes.

"He was being polite Iz." He sighs, clearly exasperated by her obliviousness. "Az is a 'gentleman' and he probably figured that you would be scared by such magic so settled for walking you places."

She ignores the mocking way he says gentleman considering the term is probably ludicrous for a Fae. Isabella can practically feel her interest peak as she turns back to Cassian, eyes bright and previous fears locked in the back of her mind.

"Can you winnow?"

"Nope."

"What can you do?"

"Illyrians have a type of magic referred to killing power-"

"So you just point and they die?"

"No, smartarse, we can mold and shape it to our will. It can be a shield or a sword or a blast-"

"Or a point and die."

He sighs.

A/N: Am I using Azriel as the depiction of a man written by a woman? Yes. Am I also justifying his every simpering comment by claiming mommy issues? Also yes.

Posting early because I'm bored of studying for exams and want company. Someone please comment, I cannot bear another second of the Russian Revolution topic.