Isabella

Oliver had been unsurprisingly grumpy and clingy when she woke him up. Or rather, he had woken her up at his standard ridiculous o'clock time. Oh she needed her morning cup of tea.

It was easy to ignore everything that had happened yesterday while she sat playing with her son. She knew that the fae looking after her would have questions but for now she just enjoyed the peacefulness of the moment. Smiling as Oliver clip-clopped the toy horse along the stone floor. The Toys had been here when they arrived in the soft living room full of windows. Well... they were more of stone arches rather than windows.

Which she had not appreciated when she first walked up to them and discovered that Oliver could just stumble off the ledge and fall. Seconds later metal railing had appeared in every arch way. The sight had her stumbling back, blinking in surprise at the sudden magic but when she looked around there was no one in sight to have done it.

So she could quite possibly be losing her mind.

Especially considering there seemed to be more and more toys and elaborate play set-ups appearing in the corners of her eyes. Oliver was delighted of course. They were playing some kind of game that she didn't fully understand only that she was both the fearsome dragon, the mysterious witch and the damsel. It was seriously testing her repertoire of funny voices.

"Mummy play!" Oliver pouted, tugging at his mother when he realised she was paying enough attention. "The-the dragon needs to be in- in..." He frowned, concentrating on the story line he was following so Isabella hesitantly moved the stuffed dragon towards the makeshift village. "No! Not there, the dragon lives in the mountain!"

So the dragon stayed in the mountain (the sofa) while the witch began explaining a quest to the hero (bat-bat) who was determined to rescue the damsel (Isabella) from the cave (under the coffee table) where she was held captive.

She's still not sure why the dragon is there but she suspects that it's because Rhys got him the toy.

"Raaaaaahhh." Oliver growled quietly as the dragon dive bombed the village. For a second Isabella found herself tensing at the noise, worried someone would hear the in-human sound. A giddy relief bubble in her chest a second later.

There was no reason to worry about that here. She found herself grinning, roaring and encouraging Oliver to play louder and have fun. He seemed surprised by her change in attitude but eager to play along. They sat there on the plush rug for hours, loudly playing with toys and munching on random snacks that appeared on the coffee table.

Isabella was learning to just accept that the house– palace– seemed to be magical in its own right. Clearly the house picked up on her acceptance and started bringing her more and more fancy foods and breakfast platters. Each plate was received with a 'thank you' from Isabella and a 'oooooo' from Oliver who was gaping at the growing mountain on the coffee table.

"Can I have a brownie?" He was practically jumping in place, eyes gleaming. "Please, please, please."

"Ollie, you need breakfast–" There was a pile of brownies on the table. "No." She glared up at the ceiling and Oliver slumped down with folded arms and a pout. "He needs to have an actual breakfast first."

Half the brownies disappeared on the plate only to be replaced by an apple and banana.

"That's–" She frowned in confusion, glancing between the plate and the ceiling. "That's not a kids breakfast."

Almost hesitantly, the fancy macaron desserts and tarts were slowly replaced by small slices of toast, various cereal bowls, porridge,sausages, french toast and bowls of fruit.

"Oh." She mumbled, eyes wide at the sight of so much food that they would only end up wasting. "I- Thank you. That's perfect."

The lights seemed to hum in satisfaction.

Isabella slowly plated up some toast, sausages and fruit for Oliver, beckoning him closer to the table. She let out a quiet 'oof' as he crawled on to her lap, all elbows and knees as he shuffled around to sit on her lap.

"Could..." She paused, feeling stupid for talking to a house. "Could you get me a knife? ... so I can chop the grapes in half for him, and the sausages into little bites... or-"

She jumped in place when the plate made a loud clunk as it dropped back onto the table with the food chopped up. Yeah she was not used to that.

"Say thank you." She prompted Oliver before letting him eat. Just because she doesn't understand the house's magic doesn't mean she's going to forget her manners and risk offending it. Don't bite the hand that feeds you and all.

Isabella stared out at the dawning sun as Oliver ate. They'd been up since the early hours and even then the city outside seemed to have a quiet hum of life. Now it was waking up, light flicking off in the streets and a shop opening and setting up. She could see the ships rocking in the harbour, some setting out to make the most of the light while the sails of others' seemed to be lowering.

It was busy here. Full of opportunities and anonymity. It would be a good place to stay, it also looks to be well connected enough to facilitate travel should she or Olvier choose to explore or leave. It was nice to have that option. To not be bound by a village's limits.

"Ollie?" He hummed around a mouthful of toast. "Do you like it here?"

He nodded, reaching for another bite of sausage.

"Cas and Az are here, they have lots of toys."

Which is of course argument enough for a child. What is there to life beyond fun and their favourite people.

"How would you feel about staying here."

His face scrunches up adorably, "Like a sleepover."

"Permanently, like living here." Isabella shifts him slightly, so that she can see his face as he frowns at her words. "We wouldn't live in this house but we'd have a small cottage, you could go to school here...." She hesitates, not used to Oliver's silence. "Cassian would visit us, so would Azriel.... Rhys and Aunt Feyre too if you wanted."

"Dad doesn't like busy places though." Her chest tightens. "He wouldn't like staying here for long... Why hasn't Dad stayed to see Cas and Az when they visit."

"Tomas doesn't like them very much." She bites at he lip waiting for his reaction but he only seems to scowl further.

"Tomas?"

"Dad." She corrects, "Dad doesn't like the Fae."

"I'm fae."

"You are." She waits with bated breath, letting him draw his only conclusions. "Do you want to stay with other fae?"

"Like Rhys?" Oliver nods to himself. "He has v-very pointy ears and I have baby-pointy ears."

"Yeah, you would be with people who look similar to you and there would be lots of people who don't look like you as well." She adds on but that brings back the frown. "Some might have wings, horns, different skin tones– including greens and blues, you wouldn't have met anyone like that before."

"People don't like to be different." He says the words like he's reciting them. "They won't like me if I look different."

"Everyone would be different here, you would have that in common."

"You... you need to have the same things as people to be friends." Oliver states and Isabella is starting to think that letting him speak with Rhys was a bad idea. "I'm different from you and dad."

"I will always love you." She smooths down his hair, watching as he pushes the food around his plate. "Just because your– your father cannot be here with us that does not change."

"Why."

He turns to her, scowling through his tears.

"Why can't we stay with dad."

"Because we will have a better life here."

"We were fine at home."

"We weren't."

"Yes we were!" He yells, voice high pitched and eyes burning with tears. "We were happy, why did we have to leave?"

"We weren't–"

"Why are you lying!"

"Oliver, enough!" She snaps, furious and close to tears.

"Enough." She whispers, scanning his face. "We were never happy, Olly. That was not happiness, nor was it love."

"But dad–"

"Never cared for us... not enough at least, not enough to keep us safe or to not hurt us."

"But he didn't hurt–" He whimpers, desperately trying to defend the man he loves. "We were wrong."

"Not wrong Ollie, just not what he wanted."

"He kept us safe from Grandma and Grandpa."

"He should never have had to keep us safe from them." She countered, practically begging him to understand. "We would be safe here Ol, you could go to school with people like you– no glamorous or lies, we would have a good home and we wouldn't have to worry about food or the wind breaking the windows."

"But dad." He whispers and Isabella hates the way his voice crumbles. "What about dad."

"We're not going back to him, Ol." She whispers, tears rolling down her cheeks. "And he can't join us here."

Oliver lurches from her grip, racing out the room before she has a chance to rise to her feet.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*

"I see the house is taking care of you." Isabella tilts her head towards Rhys, sipping from her mug of coffee as he takes in the sight of his trashed living room. "How many toys does one child need?"

She sighs, closing her eyes as she leans back in her chair to take in the sun on the balcony.

"I suppose the boy deserves spoiling after all he's been through." Footsteps echo across the room as he strides towards the armchair next to her. "Though I wonder why he ran out crying earlier."

"Were your ears not burning?" She murmurs, eyes closed as she relaxes.

He hums, "It would have been improper to listen in on a mother talking with her son."

"But not to meddle with mates."

Silence. Check.

"I wonder why my mate has suddenly decided to concern himself with your involvement with my son."

"He's a spymaster, they're known for their paranoia."

"You are the one scaremongering my son."

"I'm being honest with him."

"He is a child of 4," She snaps, eyes opening. "You cannot speak of such upsetting matters with a child so young when they can't understand it properly."

Rhys is leant forward in his chair, elbows bracing on his knees as he clasps his hand in front of her chest. He's watching her. Scanning her head to toe. Isabella lets him, eager for a problem she can actually fix or at least face head on.

"Why are you so involved with my family?"

"Is that not the same as my family?"

"Not anymore."

A line in the sand.

"They are my brothers."

"You can no longer be my mates' first priority so you have befriended my son? My sister?"

"Don't be so egotistical," He admonishes fixing the cuffs of his suit. "I was friends with your sister long before I knew you."

"You seem far more invested in my life than you should be."

"I am paying for your home, for your protection."

Low blow.

"My mate is paying for that." She counters smoothly, crossing one leg over the other before clasping her hands on her lap. "That is how your politics work here, no? Mates are tied to one another closer than marriage. They are responsible for each other financially, legally and from what I understand are rather protective of one another."

"Are you worried I'll take your mates from you?"

Point to Rhys for tenacity. She tilts her head watching him, waiting for his little tells.He's tense, on edge. Gaze constantly darting to the doorway.

"Is that why you've waited till I'm alone before cornering me?" She muses, sucking on her teeth in thought. "You wish to single me out so.... What? You can set ground? Discuss co-parenting, I get Cassian on Winter solstice while you get Azriel. Or perhaps I get to have them on Summer Solstice and you on Winter?"

He huffs out an amused breath, smirk tugging at his face as he leans back in his chair.

"I'm more surprised they're not here guarding you like dogs."

She tilts her head, a move she knows mimics the animalistic tendencies of her son.

"Is that what they are for you? Beasts that crawl at your feet, snarling and frothing at the mouth in your defence."

His eyes narrow. Check mate.

"Why can they not defend the both of us?"

She pauses. It's the way he says 'us' the little inflection of tone as if they were a unit, a pair separate to her mates. Isabella tilts her head in thought.

"Why would we be the priority?" She murmurs, watching the way Rhys' pupils expand. "Why would we come before them?"

"You are their mate."

"And you are their High Lord."

"Not your High Lord."

"No." She taunts, shaking her head. "Not my High Lord."

She would not bow to him and she would make it no secret that she doesn't like her mates bowing to him either.

"Should my mate be concerned about you, Rhysand?" She leans back waiting for him to speak, curious as to the answer. "He has such curious questions about what we discuss."

"I would think Azriel is the most likely to know what we speak of."

"Perhaps I meant Cassian."

"Azriel is paranoid about maintaining and keeping your love. Cassian is smitten, he wouldn't doubt you."

Isabella arches a brow. "So Azriel is doubting me now, questioning my loyalty and love after but hours of being free from my husband."

"Well you certainly weren't loyal to the human."

"I never willingly went into a relationship with him. I am loyal to my son, and because of that I am loyal to my husband."

"You were loyal to your husband."

"Yes." She mulls the words over, liking the taste of them on her mouth. "I am not loyal to Tomas anymore."

She leans forward, meeting Rhys' gaze. "But I am loyal to Cassian and Azriel now. They have been good to me and my son."

"Not loyal to me then."

She waits, watching the insecurities and doubts swirl behind Rhysand's eyes.

"I could be loyal to you." She murmurs, watching the way his mouth parts in surprise and desire. "But I daren't do that when you're acting like this."

"Acting like what?"

"Like you want more."

He pulls back, a mask falling down on his face.

"Don't bullshit me, Lordling." She drawls, mimicking his arrogant relaxed stance. "You have always wanted what you can't have. Not to mention it's clear you've always wanted what your brothers have."

"Using what I confided in private against me?" He murmurs, more to himself than to her as if marvelling her argument. She shrugs slightly, hand splaying in a mock placating gesture.

He huffs, eyes narrowing on her.

"What is it that you're getting at?"

"Do you seriously require me to spell it out?"

Because she really doesn't want to in case she's wrong and makes a fool of herself.

"Yes, I do. I want to make sure we're on the same page."

"Your life was fucked from the beginning, Rhys." She states, voice firm as he blinks in shock clearly having not expected to be so blunt and willing. Sue her, she's no longer in her husband's shadow and wants to remember who she once was. "You had some semblance of a loving family that was overcast with the looming picture of your father. It's blatantly clear that you actively went out and found your family, made the life you wanted so bad as a child. Amarantha ruined you for a time." 

He rears back but she doesn't falter, he needs to hear her name and let go of her power. "And now you are desperately trying to find purpose and meaning and a new life, or perhaps regain your old one and keep things the same when its so clear that you were gone for 50 years and your family is no longer the same."

Some breaks in his expression and her heart beats faster for him.

"And here I am, with my son and a life full of trauma so similar to yours and the members of your family. You're a fixer, you're helping my sister, helping me but you're not helping yourself. But you want a family again, because you need peace and love.... Except it is your brothers getting mated and starting a family, not you."

"I am not them."

"No." She rises to her feet. "You are not."

A/N: I'm not dead, I was just at a music festival and have family visiting. What did you think of the new development in Rhys and Isabella's relationship?