Isabella

Nesta ended up coming to get me, having assumed I had fallen asleep by my son's side only to find me just staring down at him. It was hard to leave him for some reason. As if some instinct was telling me to keep him safe and wrapped up in my arms.

Nesta and I slowly walked through the halls keeping up an absent conversation about my plans to visit the village tomorrow. She wants to pay. I know she does. She won't say it outright because she doesn't want to upset me but her subtle hints are enough.

I almost say no, almost argue that Tomas and I can take care of our home and son, that we can put food on the table. But this is to buy Oliver some new shoes and a cloak if they have one. He's too big to be bundled up in blankets but he'll be growing out of cloaks fast at his age. To put it in Tomas' words it'll just be another money drain. I didn't miss his pointed look at me.

"It could be an early birthday present." Nesta states and I don't bother to mention that Oliver's birthday is months away. "And I can have it custom made ot be extra thick and have a long internal hem so that you can extend it."

Thoughtful, so caring of her no matter the cold front she presents to outsiders. She's also the only one who still acknowledges me as a person, someone who has struggles. Father no longer cares, I'm just married off goods. Elain believes me to be lost in a fairytale love. Feyre sees me in the village, living the life we used to lead and sees me as naive and foolish. Blinded by love.

She said as much the last time I saw her. When she came back from Prythian only to bond with Nesta through painting and snidely judge my life choices. Though I know it came from a place of love. She wanted me to see reality, to see where and how I was living with a young child and do something about it.

"Iz?" Nesta prompts and I force a tight smile, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "The cloak would be lovely Nesta."

She nods sharply, not forcing any more words from me nor saying any of my own. She knows how painful and embarrassing it is for me. Our footsteps are near silent as we descend down the stairs only to catch sight of Elain peering over Mrs Laurent's - the housekeeper - shoulder.

"Mrs. Laurent, draw up some tea and bring it to the drawing room." Nesta commands, chin raising as she takes in the hooded figure outside the door. Mr Laurent looks between all of us, eyes glazing over me and I fight the urge to stiffen at her intentional exclusion. She has always followed more traditional beliefs and I am under no illusions as to what the servants say about me and my husband.

As Mrs. Laurent leaves Elain turns slightly allowing the figure to enter and for me to see the tears shining on her face. I stride forward, that cursed maternal instinct of mine flaring up at the sight of my upset sister. Elain stares at me, shock clear in her eyes as I gently pull her away from the door and hold onto it myself.

I turn to the figure, ready to demand an answer for my sister's tears. Except- I freeze. Staring at the ghost of my youngest sister as she steps over the threshold of the manor.

For a moment all is silent and I feel my grip tighten on the door to my sister's home. Something's wrong. I want to hug her and cradle her in my arms like I did when she was a babe but- it's not right. There's something so quiet and still about her. As if she were no more than a statue.

Elain lunges forward, embracing Feyre in a tight hug. The two cling to each other like they were going to be ripped apart should they let go.

A cold breeze flickers through the door, the sound of rustling cloth following and my gaze snaps towards the empty entrance. The completely empty entrance way. I step forward, over the threshold as I peer out into the darkness and snow.

No carriage, no horse.

No footsteps.

Yet- "Hello?"

I frown, feeling stupid for calling out but that feeling, that feeling of being watched has resurfaced. I step forward, further into the unknown as I tug the door partially closed behind me to keep my sisters warm inside.

There. I cock my head, ears straining as I pick up on a whisper. No words, just a soft noise. I step forward once more and my arms prickle. Something is here. Right next to me. I feel my heart begin to pound. Not racing, no- I've dealt with enough stress between Tomas and Oliver to know how to control my fear.

Silence.

Nothing. It's too quiet, too empty, too perfect and something tugs within my chest. Telling me to-

"Isabella?" Nes calls and I turn to see her standing in the doorway, staring out into the night as well. "They're waiting for us in the drawing room."

I take one last look at the inky darkness outside, fighting the urge to call out again before I step back into the warmth of the manor.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･

My sister sat before the carved marble sitting room hearth, hood on, hands outstretched toward the roaring fire. She felt different. Not just in physicality but there was an air of emotion around her that suggested a maturity she hadn't left with.

I dread to think what caused this sudden wisdom. I tilt my head up to the ceiling, as though I could stare through the walls and see the cause of my own sudden ageing. I love Oliver, more than anything in this world but it was a shock to the system when he was born. Everything changed.

Although everything changed the moment I married Tomas.

I really hope the same thing didn't happen to my sister. Though I'm not naive enough to believe that the worst thing in the world is a loveless marriage.

"Where is father?" Feyre asks, voice distant and almost unsure. At least she picked a neutral topic.

"In Neva." Nesta answers, naming one of the largest cities in the continent from her place on the small sofa opposite our youngest sister. I almost pity her at this moment. Sat before Nesta and Elain like they're a judging panel. My perch on the window seat allows me to see all three of my sisters, while staring out at the moon lit grounds as though I could find whatever I thought I saw earlier. "- a threat I wonder if you've come back to warn us about."

I stiffen, catching on the tail end of the conversation. No words of relief or love from Nesta, there never was for Feyre and I swear I can see something break in little Fey's eyes.

"Whatever the reason, Feyre, we are happy to see you. Alive. We thought you were-"

Elain's teacup rattles in her saucer and I turn back in time to see Feyre pull down her hood, revealing distinctly long Fae ears, slender hands and an ethereal beauty that transcends more than just physical looks.

I sharply inhale, unable to stop my shock and horror at whatever twisted magic was done to my little sister. I can do nothing by gape at my sister as Nesta shifts between her Elain as though she would jump to protect-

Oliver. My baby. If Feyre has brought others with her, and that thing that I sensed. What if he's in danger? He's upstairs with no one but a maid to keep an eye on him. What would she be able to do against that feeling of raw power coming from my sister?

"I need you to listen." The request is directed to Nesta but she has captured all of our attention.

And then Feyre tells us. In enough detail to explain the sheer trauma that she endured under a mountain, with trial and a dark queen. Then she tells us of her death and tears begin sliding down my face. I barely even register the past few months of her life but from her lack of details something tells me that the emotional damage of what happened to her finally caught up.But then we came into the conversation. One involving a place called Hybern and the human queens and that she needed this place to hold a meeting and all that it would entail.

For a moment we're all silent. Wide-eyed and staring at our sister in utter disbelief and I fight the urge to just hysterically laugh.

"You- you want other High Fae to come... here. And.. and the Queens of the Realm." Elain stutters finally and I fight the urge to just bolt from the room, grab my child and run like hell.

Feyre nods slowly, as though she's waiting for a more zealous reaction of some kind.

"Find somewhere else." Nesta states, her tone brokering no room for argument.

Feyre turns to her, eyes pleading and my breath catches in my throat at how similar she looks to Oliver. Eyes round and lip pouting for just a moment before she's bracing for a fight.

"Find somewhere else," Nesta repeats and I close my eyes, gathering my thoughts as I try to think about what this will mean for us, for our family - my family. "I don't want them in my house. Or near Elain or Iz."

She makes no mention of Oliver but I have no doubt that was intentional. My sister had always been good at plans and scheming. She has her priorities straight, just not always how to go about achieving them.

"Nesta, please." Feyre breathes and I wince at the words, the mimic of my own words the night before my wedding. The truth I had begged Nesta for. "There is nowhere else; nowhere I can go without someone hunting me, or crucifying me-"

"And what of us? When the people around here-" I rise from my seat, no longer interested in hearing my sisters have the same argument that they've had since childhood. It's always the same at heart, just a different subject. Nesta trying to protect the heart of this family and Fyre not understanding that Nesta sees her as an equal in that way. That she had proven herself capable and therefore should be helping.

And the fact that Nesta can see herself in Feyre at times.

I take a steadying breath as I leave the drawing room. I freeze. That feeling - of being watched - is back and a trickle of fear runs down my spine. She brought someone, she must have.

Taking the stairs two at a time I ignored the concerned calls of my sister's servants, waving off the maid caring for Oliver before darting into his room. I barely stop to breath, tugging the curtains more closed, checking every corner, wardrobe and lock until-

"Mummy?" I turn, the room continuing the spin after I stop and face Oliver's confused face as he rubs tiredly at his eyes. "Is it time for dinner?"

"Not yet." I whisper, stalking to his side. I pause, thinking through everything that has happened in the past hour of my sister's return. "Mummy's just tired and wanted to get some rest."

He smiles, soft and sleepy before wiggling across the bed to make room for me. I pull back the covers with a soft thank you, curling my trembling body around him. I stay like that for what feels like hours, just holding him and thinking back to the last time I saw a Fae.

I often hated myself for choosing to visit them that day. For putting it all at risk and losing. And now there are Fae in my sister's home once more, around my child again.

I can't have it end the same way as last time.

A/N: What do you think of Nesta and Feyre's relationship? Would you like to see more of that or have it put on a back burner.