Isabella

With Oliver settled in our room by the time I was upstairs I'd been left with no reason to leave. I had no plans anymore but it would have been nice to have a believable excuse. The once bright sitting room had been dimmed by our fear. Now that the house had cleared out we'd taken a moment to gather our wits and prepare for the Fae.

I don't know what to expect. Will they have horns and fangs? Their mannerism might mimic beasts of legends, will they look like Feyre - in that not-human way. Maybe their skin will be blue or like the texture of bark. What if they're animals with cunning minds?

If I ever doubt where Oliver got his overactive imagination from-

Elain inhales sharply and I turn at the sound of the main door opening. Here we go then. My hands balled into fists against the cushion of the window seat. I'd chosen to sit further away from my sister. Still behind Nesta but diagonally back from where they stand.

From the brief 3 hours of panic reading every book about Fae while Ollie slept I've come to understand such things are important to Fae no matter how they are portrayed. Things like scent and instincts are an intrinsic part of their culture apparently. With the bonds between families mimicking packs and a strict hierarchy followed by the masses.

Even Feyre may not understand what I'm doing her new High Lord will. I am with my sister, Nesta wishes to protect me but I am apart from them. I know what fears my sister's harbour are, they are my own fears as well but I wish to give them a chance at least, for the chance they have given Feyre.

And because I need to make sure this isn't another Tamlin situation.

Footsteps sound on the marble floor, so sudden and loud in the silence that I know it must have been intentional. The door shuts with a resounding thud and I fight the urge to just run straight into the main room and face them before they can get to me. Which is a stupid, foolish instinct born of desperate need for control.

The door swings open after a few moments, and it is Feyre I look to first when she enters because- oh that High Lord is smitten. Utterly consumed by my sister if the tiara and gown are anything to go by. Not to mention the look of pure blinding love in his eyes when he looks at her.

Its the males I see next.

Not men, most certainly males. My heart skips a beat at the sight of them, my chest tightening with a flicker of fear as I take in the broad chests, cold face and- fucking hell those are wings. Actual wings. Bat wings. Inexplicably the only thing that comes to mind is that little plush bat toy of my sons.

Which makes me see them as a little less scary.

Who am I trying to convince? They completely terrify me.

But for a moment, it's like the fog clears and I can see them. Not the fae creatures who have prowled into my home but them as people. It's okay. It's going to be okay. The words do little to calm me down but the knowledge that Feyre would never intentionally put us in harm's way has my fear settling down. Cooling into nervous trepidation rather than crippling horror.

They pause a good four feet away, giving us plenty of breathing space. Which is greatly appreciated if the way Elain's shoulders untighten are any indication. I try to ignore the way elain in trembling and how Nesta has hidden her clenched hand. I wonder what I'm doing.

"My sisters," Feyre says to the males currently scanning us head to toe. "Nesta and Elain Archeron... and Isabella Mandray."

I fight the urge to wince at my last name. To hide how much I loathe it. We did not curtsey, made no sign of greeting or acknowledgement as my sister's fear only seemed to heighten. Mine doesnt. Perhaps I'm in shock, that would be a perfectly reasonable explanation but for some reason I can't bring myself to fear these males.

Which is ludicrous considering how their stalking had frightened me previously.

"Cassian," Feyre inclined her to the taller, more ruggedly looking male with wings before turning to the last winged male. "Azriel." Feyre half turns to the male behind her and I suddenly take in their flanking positions of her, the centre lead and protective position she holds within this powerful unit. "And Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court."

So this one has a fancy title and the others don't. Or is this the only title my sister cares about? It is rather odd that she's so content to be a pawn in the High Lords' game. Except the otherworldly grace is so apparent on this High Lord, his eyes so different but- there's that look again. The one I saw in Feyre.

She hadn't needed my support because she already had his.

"Thank you for your hospitality- and generosity." His smile is somewhat strained as he dips his head in a small bow and my brows raise in surprise. A High Lord bowing to humans, he must truly crave Feyre's approval. A soft sound has my head snapping towards one of the males, the one with red embellished jewels as he bares his teeth at me.

My face pales but a smile of my own creeps onto my face. For a moment he does nothing but blink in surprise but I turn away before I can see his reaction. All but dismissing him in our little battle of wills. I press my back further into the cool window pane, seeking to cool my racing heart as I curse my impulsivity.

"The cook left dinner on the table. We should eat before it goes cold." Nesta didn't wait for a reply before striding into the connected dining room and I closed my eyes for a second, sighing softly at my sister's fear. This is going to be one of the tensest dinners of my life - and I have to eat with Tomas, his father and his mother every other day.

Elain rasps, "nice to meet you." Before scurrying after Nesta, her soft skirts rasping on the polished floor.

Feyre turns to me, eyes pleading so I slowly rise to my feet, loosely resting my arms at hip height with my hands loosely clasped. Another little display. Not tightly gripped in fear or anger, but still poised with mother's perfect grace as a soft smile touches my face.

My sister looks relieved at my approach, at how I gently clasp her hands in mine before tugging her gently side to side. The gown shimmers with movement and I watch it, marvel at its simple beauty. I make a point not to look at the males yet, focusing on my sister's appearance as I catch Feyre's eye.

"You look stunning in this dress, my Star." A blush rises in her cheeks at the old nickname and I see the red-jewelled-bat's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Their fashion suits you well."

All four of them tense but I squeeze my sister's hands in reassurance, keeping my gaze on her so she can see the truth and love in my eyes. I wait for her to nod in agreement, eyes glistening before she straightens up, dropping one of my hands so she can turn slightly to face the High Lord.

"It was a gift from Rhys." The male gives me another tight smile, the look so perfect I would be convinced if it weren't for the shadows in his eyes.

"I must agree with your sister." He muses, glancing at Feyre as if he can't bear to not see her for more than seconds at a time. "You look just as gorgeous in the dress as I predicted."

The bat - Cassian - coughs and I agree with his uncomfortable sentiment.

"Well then," I pause slightly, waiting for his attention to drift back to me. He makes me wait for a second. A power play I'm willing to let him have. "I must thank you for taking such good care of my sister." His eyes narrow, as though he wants to retort something no doubt about our childhood but he merely nods in acceptance.

I know Nesta will no doubt get worried soon, but the doors are open in such a way that she can still see us from her place at the head of the dining table. So she should be fine if I take a moment to properly greet my little sister's new family.

"So tell me, was it you watching me from the shadows earlier or one of your bats?" Feyre chokes and I hear Elain cough from inside the dining room but Rhys' eyes practically light up. The winged males shift into what I recognise as a fighting stance. Their bodies tilted towards Rhys and I in such a way that suggests they were preparing to jump in the middle of a fight but the High Lord merely smirks and drawls, "I don't know what you mean."

I hum, "Funny, I could have sworn I saw those large wings casting shadows outside the kitchen."

I didn't but it's funny to watch him blink in surprise.

A smirk of my own tugs at my lips but before he has a chance to reply I'm looping my arm through Feyre's and guiding her into the dining room. Except I spot the error immediately, these chairs aren't designed for people with wings. Oh well, let the judging bastards be uncomfortable for one meal. I can find them something different for breakfast.

Elain was trembling softly when we entered, she looked just as inclined as the blue-jewelled- Azriel did to slink away from this dinner entirely. Feyre takes one for the team and sits next to Nesta while I slide into the one beside Elain. Cassian is grimacing softly when he sits next to me while the High Lord settles next to Feyre with Azriel next to him.

Wonderful we've practically drawn a battle line down the middle of the table.

I do my best not to take amusement in the way the males shift their wings around the chairs but if Azriel's glare is anything to go by I don't do a very good job. Elain has a death grip on her fork next to me so I slide a hand onto her leg, squeezing softly when she jumps in surprise.

Silence descends on the table as food is quickly piled onto plates, my sisters taking healthy helpings that seem child sized when compared to the males' portions. It makes logical sense for them to eat more but it's a little rude to take the food all at once instead of through a second helping.

Focusing on not eating my food I ignore the way Azriel's eyes seem to bore into me. Feeling as though he were tracking every bob and movement of my throat as I eat. Being the prey at the dinner table is just as awful as I expected.

Rhys doesn't hesitate to dig in, his winged companions eating like they haven't done in months but-

"Is there something wrong with our food?" Nesta's flat voice reaches my ears and I can't help but sigh, leaning back in my seat as I rub at the spot between my eyes that is steadily building a headache.

"One meal." I murmur but my sisters ignore me. Feyre instead choses take a bite of food followed by an obscenely large mouthful of water before muttering a 'No' that sounds like a war declaration.

"So you can't eat normal food anymore- or are you just too good for it."

Rhys fork clangs on his plate loud enough to frighten Elain and I close my eyes once more, cursing my luck in sisters.

"I can eat, drink, fuck and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even."

Cassian choked on his water. Azriel looks ready to jump between my sisters as Nesta loses a low laugh that looks to have Feyre reading to kill her.

"Just one meal." I complain to the room, not bothering to direct my unheard complaint to anyone in particular.

"If you ever come to Prythian you will understand why your food tastes so different." Rhys' voice comes out with an evenness I envy.

Before Nesta can open her mouth I interrupt, smiling at Feyre, "We can find you something simpler perhaps, if the taste is too..." I wave a hand, unable to find the words.

"No, no, it's alright." She forces another awkward smile that has Nesta snorting in disapproval even as our sister forces down another mouthful. Sensing the growing tension between my family I nudge Elain's foot with my own, hoping she'll take the hint to start a conversation.

"Can you truly fly?" She murmurs to Azriel and from the way he blinks and smiles I can't help but be reminded of the human courtiers. I wonder if he and Elain are the only two civil ones here.

"Yes, Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians." My curiosity peaks as Cassian's wings twitch beside me. I fight the urge to lean back and allow them to brush against my side, something tells me touching them without permission would be a greater crime than I expect. "We're born hearing the song of the wind."

"That sounds so maddeningly free." I comment, hiding my wince when Elain's mouth clamps shut as she bites back her own words. Azriel frowns slightly, the only bit of confusion he allows. "I only mean that it sounds so beautiful and liberating that I can't help but fear the restrictions of it. Would being grounded through an injured wing not be torture for the mind."

Silence.

An embarrassed blush rises to my cheeks. Tomas hates when I ramble on.

"Yes... I suppose that is true." And I can't help but feel as though Azriel has begun to look at me in a new light through those simple words. The change is addicting. 

A/N: I'm in a angsty mood, someone give me argument ideas for the sisters.