Isabella

Oliver had been eyeing her curiously all morning. She knew it was because of the extra bounce in her step but she paid the young boy no mind. He was happier today as well- even if he was content to just stay in his room all morning with the wooden soldiers.

She found herself humming jovially, munching on the left over berry pie Cassian made while making a pot of stew to simmer until Tomas' arrival in the evening. It was wonderful last night. Isabella had almost thought it a dream until she had spied the decoration hanging before her window.

Four ceramics hung from the small kitchen window (Isabella had winced at that number) there was a star painted blue with Oliver's name adorning the centre; a love heart in shades of purple with an elegant 'i' that mimicked the fancy title letters from the start of fantasy tales; a green circle hung with a questionably half hearted T that she tried to ignore; but it was the small bat that hung next to Oliver's star.

Her husband would pass it off as Ollie's batbat but Isabella's heart had clenched at the sight. At the little red details following the wing's trim. For a moment it had guilt gnawing at her stomach, as if Tomas would walk in and know who she had allowed into her home.

But it had brought her comfort. She stared at it even now, hours after she had woken up. It was like a promise, a reminder of hope. Isabella knew her gaze would no doubt be drifting to the bat all day. It was such a sweet temptation, the memories of Cassian making decorations with her son too sweet and happy for her to pass up on.

When the house was tidied up and the stew on Isabella called for her son. She had just finished lacing her boots when he came stumbling into her, giggling in delight as wisp buzzed around his head.

"What are you two up to?" She teased, a grin tugging at her lips.

"Nothing." Far too innocent. Not believable with those round eyes and little pout staring up at her. "We were just playing."

"MmHmm." She agreed, narrowing her eyes and he nibbled on his lip.

Thankfully his apparent guilt meant that Ollie had no complaints about putting on his boots and wrapping the cloak Nesta gifted him around his small shoulders. It was only when he tottered to his feet that Isabella stepped forward. He had forgotten his shoelaces.

"Thanks Mummy." He trilled sweetly hugging her where she remained crouched at his height.

"You're welcome, Ollie."

Ushering Oliver out the door Isabella quickly grabbed her bag laden with books from the kitchen table, hastily remembering to grab her home key. She knew no one would break into the Mandray's everyone in the village knows that no one around here has anything of worth but-

But the thought of leaving Grandfather Mandray open access to her home grated on her nerves. He had stopped coming over, choosing to do the accounts from his son's home instead of grandson's. Isabella swore she could still feel his gaze burning into her back at night.

He had been part of the Witch Trial some 60 years ago and never lost that bitter suspicious rage.

Isabella's gaze darted to where the man in question was slowly shovelling snow away from the drive. He still had some strength in his frail body for sure. Isabella hastily stumbled forward when she realised his gaze was pinned to Oliver's back as he poked at the icicles dangling from their broken garden fence.

She shuffled her son away from the fence, feeling the man's attention burning against the back of her head as the sound of shifting snow cut out.

"Nice wreath." He mumbles and she froze in place, tightening her grip on Oliver's hand. "Didn't see you collecting any twigs on your last walk."

Her throat tightened but she didn't turn to face him, "I got them on my trip to the market, a friend added them in on my parcel as a gift."

Grandfather Mandray grunted. He didn't believe her.

"Some friend, she gave you mistletoe." Curse that stupid old man and his keen eyes. "You hate mistletoe."

Her throat bobbed. "I didn't want to be rude."

"Like you are now?"

Oliver picked up on her tense mood and curled into her side. She could feel Wisp curling around her wrist under the protection of her cloak. It brought her little comfort. Especially when she turned to face the man's piercing gaze.

She could feel her breath catch and knew he caught the movement for his cruel blue eyes lit up with delight. That is what he loved. What all the Mandray males loved. The power of control. Making the slightest amount of effort has the biggest impact.

He lumbers forward, leering down at her and Isabella's throat bobs in fear.

"I haven't seen you and the little one in a while, perhaps we could have a family dinner together. Catch up." It felt wrong hearing the endearment spat from his lips. Azriel was the only one who called her son 'little one' and-

Isabella froze, suddenly fearful he could hear her thoughts. See her betrayal.

"I'm sure you have lots of adventures to tell me about." She shoved Oliver behind her, hiding him from the man's view as he leant down to her son's height. Even though in this moment she was the one looking down on him he had all the power when he murmured. "With that tan of yours you must have been out in the sun all winter."

She was going to be sick.

Because he was right. Ollie hadn't put on the necklace this morning. How could she have been so stupid. How could she have missed the obvious signs? The slightly pointed ears now hidden by his hat, the tan skin that she had dismissed in the shadows of indoors. Even his hair had taken on brassy colour, the brown Archeron hair shining with copper highlights in the sun.

"I'm going to see my sisters." She said uselessly, feeling her eyes brim with tears of fear as she wonders if this will be Grandfather's Mandray final straw. "I'll make you some dinner when we get home."

Home.

The word clangs around her mind as they stumble away.

It's only the buzzing of the shadow at her hand that stops her from drifting, from panicking and drowning in fright. Oliver has gotten silent, staring down at his hand as if it were alien. Her stomach churns at the sight. Her son frowns down at his skin as he rubs, as if the colour will wash off.

Isabella's comforting smile comes off wobbly and strained but Ollie seems to accept it because he wanders off ahead to where George - the homeless man who often seeks her medical advice - must have taken refuge in the old Beddor house last night.

She throws up once he's out of sight.

"You alright lass." His voice is soft and concerned.

She nods but can feel the tremble in her hands when she accepts the cup of watery tea he hands her.

"Not much but I managed to scrounge a bit up." He mutters.

"I'll get you some more." She whispers, letting the tea burn her tongue.

"You don't need to." He murmurs. Isabella thinks she might cry if he keeps talking so softly like that.

"I knew old Edward Mandray back in the day." He jerks his head towards the Mandray houses and Isabella pauses. Edward. She had never been told their names. They were just the Mandray's and she was just Isabella. "I saw the kind of things he did to those girls, I couldn't stop him then."

And it was the look in his eyes, the fierce kindness and the gentleness in his hands when he took the mug back that had her pausing.

But I could stop him now.

"You're a good man, George." She whispers, watching where Oliver played in the snow. "You didn't deserve this deal in life."

"I am paying my dues Miss Isabella." She didn't correct her name. "I was part of those witch trials too."

She mutely nods and he sighs.

"You heading to the market?"

"My sisters."

"I'll walk you there."

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Elain was upset with her, that much was clear. They had sat in silence for some time. Any attempt at polite conversation was shot down unless it was about Oliver's health. Eventually Isabella's patience wore thin and she could feel herself having a 'Nesta moment' as her counterpart had so aptly named her moments of irrational rage.

"Spit it out then," She placed her teacup down with a resounding clank but Elain didn't so much as flinch. "I won't have us both sit here in sullen silence."

"I have nothing to say." Her younger sister murmurs, delicately sipping from her porcelain cup. It irritates her how perfect Elain looks in her pastel pink gown with little ruffles and lace sleeves.

"You are angry."

"I am upset."

"Then tell me why." Isabella states as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Elain sighs, placing down her cup and Isabella stiffens at the action. "I cannot apologise if you do not give me a reason."

"I am allowed to be upset but if there is something you wish to apologise for then I am not opposed." Fuck her sister and her perfect ability to always be so heavens damn amiable. "Though I doubt you will understand why I am upset."

"How will you know if I can understand if you will not tell me." Isabella can feel her nostrils flaring slightly.

"Because it is not a problem that can be fixed." Elain meets her gaze with a confidence she once thought lost to mother's cane. "It is not an insult or a slight but merely the nature of something which cannot be easily changed in one afternoon tea."

Isabella can feel herself glaring at Elain and it's only the soft sounds of Oliver and Nesta playing by the fire in the other room that stop her from yelling at her sister.

"If this is about what I said-"

"Of course it is about what you said." Elain snapped before taking a steadying breath.

Isabella remained silent.

"I don't appreciate being treated like a child, Isabella." Elain's eyes were ablaze and even as Isabella straightened in her seat she could feel herself cowering. "I trusted you but it seems that you do not trust me."

"It was not about trust."

"Yet Nesta was not under the same illusions as I."

"Nesta had... relations with Tomas first." She countered, keeping her chin high even as Elain makes a small noise of disbelief.

"So I have been kept out of the loop with that as well."

"I do not understand why this is any of your concern." Isabella snarled, feeling herself laugh slightly in rageful disbelief.

"Because you are my sister!" Elain snaps and the sound of Oliver playing goes silent. For a moment they just stare at each other, waiting until the sound of Nesta ushering Oliver along rings throughout the room. "Because you are my sister and I want you to be happy, to be safe. But I trusted you so I accepted everything that you told me."

Isabella felt her throat bob with unshed tears as she looked away from her sister.

"You snarled and snapped at me for being naive but it was you who kept me that way." Elains eyes were brimming with tears. "I am not upset because you shouted at me. I am upset because you felt the need to keep the nature of your relationship with Tomas a secret. You did not trust me and as a result I could not be there for you."

For a moment guilt clawed at her chest, drowning out any semblance of rage left in her body. But the longer she stared at Elain the more her grief rose to the surface instead.

"I did not know how to tell you." Isabella whispered, feeling a teardrop down her cheek. "You were so happy and content, it felt cruel to take away what innocence and childhood you had left."

"When father told me what you had done," Elain began, toying with the handle of her cup. "I thought you were abandoning us."

"Never." Isabella rasped, leaning forward to grip Elain's free hand. "I would never leave you."

And as the tears began to drip down Elain's face as well the two sisters shared their grief. It was like a weight had been lifted from Isabella's chest even as the constraints of her sister's pleas settled into her sold.

Isabella felt as if she were in another time, sitting there with her sister. Holding her hand as the pair cried for the childhood they lost, the sisterhood that escaped them. An alternate reality perhaps, one where the sisters were close, where there were no secrets and they were seeking the same goal.

But they weren't and no matter how much guilt tore away at Isabella's soul she couldn't bring herself to change her mind. She had given enough to her sisters. She sacrificed herself to a dangerous marriage and risked her child all to provide a permanent roof over their heads and warmth for a year.

That's all her life had been worth back then. A ramshackle cottage and a few shipments of wood.

As Elain slowly composed herself, smiling tentatively at her sister, Isabella could feel her resolve harden. She had smiled back, following Elain back into the main room where Nesta played with Oliver. No. Her life - Oliver's life - was worth far more now, and she wouldn't sacrifice their chance at a better life for a woman who couldn't even pretend to play with her son.

Besides, Elain would be fine. She had just proven that she finally had a backbone.

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Nesta and her sat quietly in Isabella's room at their manor. Oliver was down for a nap after having been exhausted by Nesta's games designed to make him run and burn off energy.

"You look unwell."

Isabella snorts, "Always a delight, sister."

"Are you sick?"

"Nes-"

"I swear to the heavens that if you're pregna-"

"No-NO! Nest!" She hissed, glaring at her sister who was smirking at her reaction. "Do not jest about such things."

"Do you think Tomas can actually have children?" She muses and Isabella can feel herself pale at the impropriety of the topic. "He's not been very successful. I wonder if I damaged something when I kneed him between the-"

"Nesta!". She snapped aghast.

Her twin was smothering her giggles, staring her down until she felt her own laughter bubbled to the surface. For a moment the two twins just laughed togther, like old times. Their failed attempts at smothering their joy only made verything funnier when they tried to stay quiet for Oliver's sake.

Nesta was practically alight with joy. Her eyes beaming as her face crinkled with laughter, open and free. Isabella almsot used it as an excuse to back out of her topic of conversation.

"But seriously," Nes managed to ask thtough her gasping laughter. "Are you okay?"

Isabella sighs and Nesta takes the cue to sober up, "I just... had a fright is all."

"Tomas." There's a murderous look in her eyes.

"Edward Mandray."

"The father."

"Granfather."

"Witch hunter, yes?" She muses and Isabella hums her agreement. "Saw the tan and-" She waves her hand at Oliver and Isabella supresses her wince.

"I should have been more careful."

Nesta sighs. It's the same sigh that Isabella uses when she politely informs Nes that she's being a bitch.

"Isa," A muscle ticks in her jaw. "As much as Ollie's... heritage... isn't ideal. Nor will I pretend to understand your motivations or agree with-" She waves her hand again, unable to capture the way the twins had been raised to hate all fae "even I can understand that it is cruel to raise one in fear of disgust of their own heritage."

Isabella looks to where her boy is peacefully sleeping.

"We have no right to shame him for his heritage-"

"I'm not shaming him." ISabella snaps, straightening up as she clasps her hand together on her knee. "I just... I don't want him to get hurt."

"He will be hurt either way." Nesta states, eyeing Isabella curiously. "Either we judge him for his father along with the rest of the village when it comes to light, or we offer him a safe place."

"We're not exactly judgement free." Isabella murmurs but thinks through her sister's words.

Nesta sighs, "Oliver will never have a home here, Isa. Not physically. We love him, you and I, Elain too in her own way. But that won;t be enough for him when he grows up."

"Cassian has offered to raise him in Prythian."

"He's not taking him away from you." Nesta snarls, rage flaring in her eyes. "They have no right to take him from you."

"I thought you wanted him to find a place where he would be accepted."

"Yes," She raises her chin, "Either because you take him somewhere or he can leave when he is older, preferably as an adult who can make his own choices."

She sighs, "Cassian doesn't intent to take him from me." Isabella chews her lip nervously. "He just offered to look after him when- when I die."

"That is... kind of him." It was clear she hated admitting such a thing and Isabella snorted at her expression.

"I'm leaving Tomas." She doesn't know why she blurts it out but Nesta takes it in her stride.

"Good. What do you need?" She really fucking loves her sister.

"For starters, I've got 5 different books on Prythian, the Fae realms, the Mortal realms and everything in them. I need to find a new place to start over."

"I'll come with you." Nesta states, "I've always wanted to travel and explore."

Isabella's throat bobs, "I think... I think that Oliver needs to be with people who understand him... In Prythian."

Nesta blinks owlishly, "You would be a human alone with fae."

Isabella can already feel panic building at the thought, "It would be worth it for him."

"I-" She clears her throat. "I can visit."

Isabella thinks her heart might break from the force of her sister's love, "No you wouldn't." She whispers, and Nesta's eyes flare in determination.

"You are my sister. I will get over it." Neither mention the fact that has yet to happen with Feyre.

"Will you stay with Feyre," Nesta murmurs and Isabella sighs.

"Perhaps for a time but I can't be reliant on someone, not after everything that has happened." Isabella doesn't bother to hide her motivations or fears, Nesta is her twin, they share part of a soul.

"Let's agree on Prythian." Nesta looks to Isabella for approval but sees her twin hesitating. "The mortal realm would be hard for me to navigate in a timely fashion. I would rather you have a support system in place than risking the Fae Realm just because of their human and fae tolerance."

"It would be easier for you to visit." Isabella whispers but knows that Nest has just voiced the decision she hasn't been able to acknowledge.

Nesta sighs, "Focus on leaving Tomas first. Is there a plan or are you packing your bags while he is away."

That would have been the smart thing to do but Isabella was too busy being paralysed by fear. The thought of just taking a leap of faith with hers and Oliver's life was too daunting.

"Find a place to live and then come up with a suitable story to tie things up on your end." Isabella states. That's all she needs to do.

Mrs Cromwell had told her the key components to leaving a man like that. She would need money, a safe untraceable travel plan, places she can lay low and an end goal. The light at the end of the tunnel, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Logically there were also issues of getting set up in the new place, Mrs Cromwell had mentioned she might need a new name, a new job and of course things for Oliver.

"So essentially we're just picking which court you will live in." Nesta states and there's a tightness to her expression. "Should I factor in Oliver's father."

Isabella pauses, he had some contact with them over the years but that was not a route she was ready to explore. Nesta picks up on her silent decision.

Her twin nods, forcing a cheerful smile, "So what are we thinking climate wise, hot or cold?"

A/N: This feels like a super long chapter with lots going on so I apologise if it got confusing.

Question: Oliver's relationship with his heritage, do we want to explore that and go into a bit of his struggles long term or would we rather have that as more of a side plot, backburner topic.

(Alternatively, I can put in a filler chapter where the back boy take turns teaching him about fae and then we just call it a day)