Rhysand

Morrigan had taken Cassian to the Human Realm leaving him to not only babysit Oliver but Feyre as well. She had taken to pacing the length of the corridor as he sat just inside the bedroom with the door wide open. Neither of them had wanted to leave Oliver on his own lest he wake up again but Feyre had needed to rant.

"I should have gone with them."

"And done what?" Rhys keeps his voice level, watching as she toys with her lip. "Cassian and Mor are more than capable."

"She's my sister."

"You've barely left the house–"

"I know!" She snaps, pausing in place as she furiously scrubs at her face. "My sister could be hurt, she sent her child on his own to the fae realm for the mother's sake, and I'm stuck in this house because of my useless mind– WHAT THE FUCK RHYS!"

He arched a brow at her, unapologetic for using his magic to splash water in her face. A familiar Archeron scowl aims his way and he tries not to let his amused smile drop from his face at the reminder of Isabella.

"I thought your art-therapist had taken to throwing rubbers at you whenever–"

"You're not my therapist!" She snaps, furious.

He shrugs, "I'm standing in."

It's a rather amusing sight– and Archeron with a furious scowl and water dripping down their face. Though Feyre breaks the moment by glancing behind him through Azriel's doorway and to the boy within.

"You think he'll be okay here?" She slumps down next to him, leaning against the opposite side of the doorway. "It's a big change coming here."

She would certainly know that best.

"Considering he has Feyre Cursebreaker and the feared High Lord of the Night Court sitting on his bedroom floor–"

She snorts, cutting him off. "Why are your floors so uncomfy anyways."

"Well I'm sorry that my palace carved from stone and quartz was designed to have a functioning floor."

She rolls her eyes and for a while they just sit in silence, content in each other's company. It's been a while since Rhys has done this and not for the first time today is he reminded of his little sister. He supposed Feyre had been filling in that role recently.

"Are you and Mor going to do anything for your birthday?" He's fishing but Rhys is desperate for any kind of distraction from the looming axe over his head. "It would be your first in the Night Court."

Feyre sighs such a great defeated sigh that he can't help but let out an 'uh-oh' in response. She shoots him glare but he only arches his brows in question. How different she is from her sister. Isabella would have already been having an open and twisted debate of ideology and opinions. Feyre on the other hand offers up no information unprompted, and even then its clear she has no true idea of her own opinions.

Oh the pains of conversing with the youth. They're either opinionated or confused, or some concoction of both.

"Mor forgot."

She did if Azriel's information was to be trusted. Rhys tries not to flinch at the reminder of the shadowsinger's words. Unfortunately for him Feyre picks up on the hesitation.

"But that matters little when I recognise that expression."

"It's nothing–"

"Bullshit!"

"Feyre!" He hisses as they both fervently glance at the sleeping boy. "Keep your voice down for mother sake!"

"Then tell me what's bothering you." She crosses her arms, no more than a stubborn child. Sometimes he forgets how young Feyre is when she's fighting Wyrms and slaying Queens. Sometimes he can't picture how she managed to survive being Under the Mountain with such naivety about life. "I thought this little friendship and free therapy went both ways."

She has a point there.

"Azriel... made a comment– about what happened Under the Mountain."

Feyre stiffens, "insulted you? A threat?"

"No-no." He sighs, leaning his head back so that he can look at the ceiling instead of at his saviour's face. "It was about what– she did... to me."

"Oh."

Oh indeed.

"He was completely smashed and apparently my family spent a fair bit of time trying to actively avoid the topic during the Winter Solstice... well, avoiding it all the time actually. Which of course led to it being the first thing Azriel said to me."

"Isn't he supposed to be the spymaster?"

Rhys waves off her concern. "Oh he's got our Court's secrets on lockdown. Personal secrets around trusted family members on the other hand..."

"Ah."

"Yup."

"Fucking know it all."

"It's so infuriating that he always knows!" Rhys exclaims, flinging his hands out in annoyance. They both freeze at the sound of Oliver turning in his sleep. Sharing a concern glance the pair slowly relaxing again when there's no further sign of him waking up.

"What did he say."

Rhys shrugs, he can't bring himself to say the words out loud.

"Rhys–" She trails off in concern but he tilts his headway. "You need to talk about it, you can't just keep it all bottled up. That's what you told me."

"We are not the same."

"No, you're a 500 year old fae with centuries worth of grief."

"I'm also a High Lord with a Court to consider."

"A beautifully selfless excuse but still not a good enough reason to damage your own health."

"Oh, what would you know about it?" he snaps.

"Don't even think about lashing out at me." She snaps and he slumps further down against the wall. "It's 4am, I'm going to try and get some rest. You should do the same."

He huffs, ignoring her but guilt tugs as his chest. "Fey–" the door to her room slams shut.

Teenagers.

"Cas–cian." A little voice warbles. Rhys stumbles to his feet, moving the side of Azriel's bed.

"Heeey, little man." Rhys coos, trying to hide his internal panic as he perches on the side of the bed. "You're up late."

"Where's mummy?"

"She's on her way home with Cassian and Azriel."

His lower lips wobbles and Rhys feels a familiar panic descend as he is once more faced with a frightened child. But the tears don't come. It's painful, watching how Oliver purses his lips to hold back his tears. So brave and strong for someone so young.

"Are you like me?"

"Yes."

Oliver watches him curiously, once again looking at his ears like he did when they first met. Rhys tramples down his flicker of self-consciousness. He's only a curious child who finally sees someone who looks like him.

"Your ears are pointy."

"Yours are too."

"Not like yours." He shakes his head, hair flopping with the movement and Rhys grins at the adorable sight. "Why are yours so pointy."

"Do you remember how your mummy and Cassian told you about illyrians." He waits as the boy furrows his brows, thinking hard before sharply nodding his head. "They're a group of people who have round ears and wings, whereas humans are a group of people with round ears and no wings."

"So your group of people has pointy ears and no wings."

"Yes, we're called fae." He's quite smart for his age. The thought makes him oddly proud. "Did you enjoy the books I sent you."

A grin splits his face. "I likes the knights and witches and dragons and–"

Rhys cuts him of with a laugh, "I'll have to get you more books then."

He nods vigorously, bouncing in place with barely restarined excitement. Rhys makes a mental note to start collecting a mini library for the boy, he should still have some of his sister's old books.

"What am I?"

Rhys isn't sure he's qualified for this conversation.

"I don't have wings and I don't have pointy ears."

"Your ears have a little point."

"So I have a-a dif-e-ren-t people from you, mum and Cas." He frowns, clearly upset. "I want to be like mum."

"Well, we don't get choose who are people are."

"Who does?"

"Our parents."

Oliver doesn't like this answer. It's clear frown his pout and furrowed brows as he huffs and turns away from Rhys.

"Why would mum and dad make me different from them? It's not fair." His lower lip wobbles and Rhys has a sinking suspicion there might be some underlying issues here. "Did they not want me to look like them."

"Do you need to look like them?" Rhys changes tactics, unsure as to what Isabella has told Oliver of his biological father. "Does it change who you are."

He shrugs, "I want to look like my friends."

Now that he can understand. Playground politics can be vicious and cruel. But–

"Did someone say something?"

He shrugs again, looking down with a shyness Rhys hadn't seen since his first visit to the Archeron family. He didn't like that one bit. A familar wave protectiveness washed over him and Rhys fought the urge to keep the little boy bundled safe and away with enough toys to not warrant the need for silly cruel friends.

"You know... lots of people didn't like me when I was little– especially because of my ears." He drags out the words, looking away out the window so Oliver doesn't feel pressured by his gaze. Rhys can feel the little boy watching him, and he watched him in return from the corner of his eye. He waits until the surprise and confusion petres away to reveal that familiar Archeron curiosity.

"But- but mummy said you were the lordling."

Rhys snorts, "High Lord."

"What's the difference." Oliver frowns in confusion, not liking being the last to know something. "Mummy calls you that."

"High Lord is my title and job. Lordling is... a nickname." He winces as he says it, unsure if he wants to label it an insult instead. Oliver might get upset if Rhys accuses his mother of being mean. He has no doubt that the young boy can be overprotective. He'll take after Cassian and Azriel in that regard.

"Okay." He agrees. "Why did they not want to be friends with you Lordling?"

He walked into that one.

Rhys doesn't correct him but fights the urge to sigh and roll his eyes.

"Because I was different to them. People in general tend to be scared of 'other'" He makes little air quotes with his hands that have Oliver laughing. "Especially if you look different to them."

"How did you get them to like you?"

"I didn't."

Oliver frowns, "But Cassian and Azriel like you and they have wings."

"Can I tell you a secret?" Rhys whispers, leaning in conspiratorially. Oliver bounces in please, pursing his lips to hide his squeals as he excitedly nods his head. "I have wings too."

His eyes widen, "Wooow... can I see them?"

Rhys chuckles, "Not tonight, but I'll show you outside sometime. It's hard to have wings inside."

Oliver nods with the gentile understanding of a politicians three times his age as he speaks sage advice. "Cassian is always bumping into the cupboards of our kitchen and knocking the things of our shelves."

Rhys snorts, his brother isn't always as graceful as he thinks he is.

"So Cassian and Azriel like you because you have wings like them?"

"No but it helped that we had something in common." Rhys added on, unskillfully getting to his point of finding commonalities. "Like your mother and I. She is human and I am fae, but we love reading and having debates so that helps us to be friends."

"Mummy and Cassian both like cooking but she and Azriel like to talk quietly in the evenings." Oliver tilts his head, the animalistic movement is one of the few indicators of his heritage. "But mummy and Azriel also like to take long walks and talk... I think they just like talking."

Gossiping more like, considering that whenever he would visit with some issue in mind Azriel would have already informed her of the issue. It would seem his spymaster finally had a weakness.

"Well, when I went to live with the illyrians they didn't like me very much but they were all skilled fighters and respected each other's strength and power."

"Mummy says fighting isn't the answer."

"It's not the first answer but sometimes it's your only option left."

"Like when daddy fights with mommy because she's not listening to him, he doesn't have another option."

"No." Flicker rage begins to challenge to tightness in his chest. "No what your father did was wrong. He should have never hurt your mother."

"But she wasn't listening." Oliver frowns and Rhys realises that he's challenging the little boy's whole world view.

"When you argue with a friend, family member or anyone who isn't a physical threat to you, physical fighting is never an option."

"But dad said–"

"Your father was lying." He snaps in frustration, unable to get the image of an injured Isabella watching as her son spouts the same nonsense as his father.

"My father isn't a liar."

No he's just an abusive bastard who is hopefully dead.

Oliver turns away, burrowing back down in the covers that he pulls over his head. Rhys sighs, closing his eyes as yet another Archeron gives him the cold shoulder for snapping at them.

He needs to get a grip.

They're both silent for so long that Rhys thinks Oliver has fallen asleep again. But then–

"Where are we?" That sounded suspiciously like 'when can I go home' but Rhys doesn't have an answer for that so he just answers the question he was actually asked.

"Well..." Rhys pauses, trying to think of how to word his answer without scaring the little human. "We're in Azriel's room," That at least brings some curiosity to the boy's eyes as he turns over to quickly glances around the room with a concentrated pout.

He looks just like his mother.

"I tho-thought there would be more blue and–" He pauses thinking of the right word. "Black." He nods to himself, clearly pleased. "He's always wearing that."

Rhys suppresses a little grin.

"Those are his favourite colours."

"What's your favourite colour?" He seems to have forgotten his earlier woes and Rhys is much better at conversing than comforting and resolving arguments so whose he to complain. "Mine's green."

Convenient. Not blue or red like Cassian and Azriel, though Rhys is sure the pair will turn the boy's affection into a competition either way. They love to be someone's favourite.

"Is it purple?" His little voice lights up in curiosity. "Like your eyes."

"I have dark blue eyes."

"They look purple."

"I get that a lot."

"Maybe you should say yo-you have purple eyes then." He stutters out, staring into Rhys' eyes with an intensity that Azriel would be proud. "That's what mummy would tell you."

His throat tightens at the mention of his friend. Why weren't they back yet.

"She says that if-if everyone agrees then- then..." He frowns trying to remember and Rhys feels a smile tug at his lips. "There must be some truth."

"A social belief held by a society is not always the truth." Rhys counters and Oliver looks at him like he's grown three heads.

"Riiiiighhhttt." He drags out, nodding slowly and Rhys get the impression that the little boy is giving him a condescending look that he's learnt from his mother. "Of course."

Oh yeah.

Isabella has used that line on him before.

Usually when he's talking nonsense.

"I think I actually said 'when everyone agrees on a truth the rest will follow to fit in'"

"Mummy!" Oliver cries leaping from the bed and Rhys whirls in place as he rises to his feet. "You're back!"

"I'm back." She answers with tired enthusiasm as she lifts her son into her arms.

For a moment he just watches the pair, ignoring the illyrians stood out in the hall. Isabella seems to hide a wince as she cradles Oliver to her chest, letting him near strangle her with the force of his hug. Isabella just presses her face into the side of his, inhaling deeply as she relishes in being close to her child.

Rhys finds himself walking forward as if in a trance. Isabella is already pulling back from Ollie, murmuring to him quietly as she turns to Cassian. Cassian who looks shell shocked but as the solid weight of Oliver is placed in his arms the life seems to come back to his eyes.

Azriel gently pushes them along, Oliver frowning at his mother as she promises to be just a minute as the illyrians take the young boy away. Something threatens to burst in his chest as he fights the urge to lunge after them, to take Oliver back into his care now that his earlier panic is building again.

"Thank you." she murmurs and Rhys finally looks at her. "For looking after Ollie and coming to get me."

"Of course." His voice is hoarse and Rhys finds himself scanning ger face, for what he's not sure. "Are you okay?"

She shrugs, clearly not alright and he almost laughs at how similar Oliver is to her.

"I'll be okay."

"If you need anythin–" Rhys freezes, nostril flaring as something snaps in his chest.

"Rhys?" Her brows furrow in concern as he stumbles back. "Rhysand?"

Fuck.

Oh fuck.

A/N: .... I'm alive... whoop whoop? Sorry for not posting. I've panic written this chapter for you so it's not edited. Next chapter would you rather see Rhys' reaction to the bond or Isabella bonding with Cassian, Azriel and Ollie. If you have any suggestions or ideas for these chapters please comment them below.

Rhysand.

Isabella having a moment with Cas, Az and Ollie.