Isabella

Having slept fitfully last night Isabella was in no mood for the fae and their bullshit. Except they were still here and she still had to play nice. She had spent the night pacing, sometimes inside, sometimes outside but the thoughts in her head were always the same.

The judgement.

She could feel it. A physical, tangible thing that appeared in the men - males' eyes when they looked at her. Part of her was so pleased, so excited at her sister finally having good, loyal people in her life. The other part of her wanted to scream and roar but she never could. She was never very good at expressing her emotions.

That was why she and Nesta got along so well. It was harder once she married Tomas but she could see it in the quiet moments like now. Nesta chopping up fruit for breakfast as I cook off a few packets of sausage and bacon. We were silent. Yet she knew Isabella needed company.

Arguably Nesta was here to be a good host but anyone who has met her twin even for a few minutes knows she would never intentionally lower herself to cooking and working as a servant. Our mother had raised her too harshly and with too much judgement and prejudice for that.

But that was accounted for in their judgement. As they stared at my sisters and decided that we were all selfish. It makes sense, Isabella guessed. There's two sides to a story and their's seems obvious. Isabella was Nesta's twin so of course they share traits. Including that self preservation and their mother's cruel disposition. So of course Isabella must have married out of fear of poverty and foolish love.

Not that she had any intention of suggesting otherwise. Not now. Not when they would only pity her, suggest ways of getting away from Tomas that would most likely include becoming dependent on someone else's money. No. It was better this way. At least with Tomas she had some control over her life. Over her son's life.

Isabella smiled down at the little boy in question. He was quiet today as he often was. She supposed it was stupid to get her hopes up yesterday. That his game in the garden would mean a turning point in his attitude and happiness. What had she expected? That he would suddenly have a better life after one moment of happiness?

As if understanding where her thoughts had gone, Nesta appeared by her side, handing her plates and trays laden with food before murmuring about taking them upstairs. It was a job to do, a distraction from the life she had condemned her child too.

She had expected Oliver to stay with Nesta as he did most mornings here. Her harsh attitude tended to ward off any servants or guests from bothering him and her son had been preferring solitude as of late. Which Isabella was not at all obsessing over and worrying about. Except he hadn't stayed with Nesta. He'd merely grabbed the bundle of cutlery from the side, the rattling noise of metal loud and harsh in the silence as he struggled not to drop any. A soft smile bloomed on Isabella's face but she made no attempt to help him knowing full well that not only was this a simple skill he had to learn for himself but that he would also throw a huff at her attempts to 'baby him'.

There had been an argument about that. It was more of stamping feet and 'wanting to be big like you' and she had instantly lost because he was so adorable. Neither Nesta nor Isabella had made any move to tell the boy that he wasn't really doing adult things but he seemed so proud every time he copied one of their movements and so long as he was initiating her or her sisters and not Tomas then Isabella was happy.

Which is how Isabella found herself helping her son carry tray after tray, and objects both needed and random up to the dining room. He'd even determinedly attempted to drag up the low backed chairs that Isabella had pulled out of storage last night until she stepped in. The chairs were quickly tucked into place at diagonals from each other and then Isabella took a step back to admire their work. It was a lovely spread. Simple foods of eggs, bacon to sugary waffles and pancakes that Tomas made her learn how to make one summer. Not to mention the brightly coloured imported fruits that no one in the village could even afford to look at let alone sell or buy.

It was obscene but it was the life Isabella's sisters led.

Oliver was humming slighting, a tuneless song that conveyed nothing but happiness as Isabella helped him place the last of the dishes. Or rather, he pretended to be Elain who was twisting the plates this way and that as Isabella followed after him fixing what he moved.

The moment of peace was disrupted by the sound of a door closing followed by footsteps that had Isabella freezing.

Shit. She hadn't thought of the fae. Why of all times did it have to be now that she let her guard down. She who is alway on edge and constantly vigilant for her son had managed to completely ignore the three major threats to her family. Maybe its the stress.

Hastily shuffling Oliver over to a seat Isabella decides the only option she had was to just tough it out and keep Oliver by her side. There were no maids left to watch him while she sat with her sisters anyway and he was still too young to be left unsupervised.

Trying to ignore the way her hands trembled, she carefully lifted her son up onto her lap as she slid into one of the dining table chairs. For the first time she was grateful for the lack of child seats that meant Ollie had to sit on her knee to reach the table. Not that Oliver noticed, his attention was quickly captured by the wooden toys on the table and Bat's fluffy prescence.

Stroking a hand down his hair, Isabella slowly pulled fruit and pancakes onto their now shared plate. She did her best to pretend as though she wasn't listening out for the males' footsteps but the tenseness with which the winged- with which Cassian and Azriel enter reminds her that they can most like scent her fear. Which is just wonderful.

"Morning." Stiffening at the sound of Azriel's soft voice Isabella turns just enough to watch as he slides into the seat opposite her. Elain has gone still beside him, her lithe form frozen for a moment before she trembles softly. For a moment she just watches her sister, attention drifting between the pair as she numbly cuts the pancakes into small manageable bites.

There's a screeching noise and Isabella flinches back, the cutlery in her hand dropping to the table with a loud clang that has both her sister and Azriel looking to her in surprise.

A faint blush blooms on her cheeks but a quick glance at Cassian's amused smile has Isabella's embarrassment quickly turning to irritation. That is until Cassian blinks at her owlishly, eyes wide as he looks down and for a moment she has a ridiculous notion that he's looking down at her breasts until she remembers Oliver is sitting on her lap.

"Can I help you?" She drawls a sharp edge to her tone that clearly says 'fuck off' but the two males have decided to just stare at her in surprise. Maybe they really didn't know Oliver was here but she could have sworn something different had been watching them earlier. Tightening her arms around her son Isabella looks up, catching Azriel's gaze and holding it until he looks away.

"I didn't know you had a son." There's something about Cassian's tone. It's conflicted, his words coming out with a flicker of judgement born of what Isabella suspects may be jealousy but the look in his eyes... Clearing her throat Isabella reaches for a bowl of fruit, trying to hide the guilt in her own eyes because she knows what that look is. The shawl she's using to hide their threadbare clothes feels redundant now that he knows. Now that he can no doubt see how she's failing as a mother.

Elain kicks her under the table, shooting her a prompting look that has Isabella swallowing down her nerves. "This is my son Oliver."

He perks up at the sound of his name, coming out of whatever dream world he was in with the wooden horses and soldiers. For a moment everyone freezes as Oliver looks up at Cassian in surprise. Isabella fights down the hysterical urge to laugh at the look on the male's face.

Horrified doesn't begin to cover how awkward Cassian's expression is as he stares back at her son who does nothing but eye him in curiosity. Nervously glancing between Cassian and her son Isabella shifts in her seat, trying to prompt one of them to break out of their staring contest and return to their food.

As if her prayers had been answered Oliver turned back to his toys and Cassian's shoulders seem to sag in relief and for a moment she wonders if he too had been scared of frightening the young boy with the wings that he had seemingly tucked in tight as though he could hide them from view.

The relief didn't last long for Oliver slowly began dividing his toy army in two. Each miniature troop of horse riders, soldiers, archerers and even the two catapults were quickly split between him and Cassian.

Why for the love of all that was good in this world did her son have to be such a caring child who believed in sharing his things.

To his credit Cassian only mimicked Oliver's movements as the rest of us looked on in shock. The pair had taken to pointing all the toys so that they face each other as two opposing armies.

A snort of amusement has her flinching and Olivers looks back at her in surprise. Glaring at Rhys who had just entered the dining room Isabella quickly smoothed a hand down Oliver's hair, reassuring him with a smile that she was fine and he quickly turned back to where Cassian had set up his toy soldiers in what was a suspiciously accurate looking layout.

"Finally playing against someone at your own level?" Rhys drawls to his friend as he slides into the seat at the head of the table with an amused grin. "I took you away from your maps and figures for one day and you've gone and monopolised the poor child's toys."

Cassian shoots him a glare but his focus is primarily on the horse that Oliver is trotting over to his side of the dinner table battlefield.

"Now, now Rhys. Just because you could never beat me at áhættu." Rhys' petulant huff reminds Isabella of Oliver for a second, that petulant look one can only get when arguing with family.

"A-hat-u?" Elain fumbles through the word, butchering it to the point where both winged males wince.

"áhættu." Azriel politely corrects and Isabella wonders if the pair of them are the only two civilised people among the group. "The name translates to 'risk' It's a battle strategy game that is common among our people."

"Was boring old chess not entertaining enough for you?" Isabella drawls fighting down her nerves and instead choosing to tilt her head in curiosity at the tidbit of information offered to her. Though she had always wanted to be her healer her plan had never been to stay in one place. Once there were dreams of travelling around the world, learning from different people along the way. That was gone now of course.

"Too many rules." Cassian grumbles, using a toy soldier holding one of the wooden food picks as a spear to stab Oliver's toy horse. "It's not a very creative game."

"And this aha-tut is just a lawless game?" She counters amusement building at the irritation in Cassian's eyes at the butchering of the name once more.

"áhættu- and of course it has rules but they're more rules of logic rather than just 'the oh so powerful queen can go anywhere' our game is more practical and useful with weather and travel time being taken-"

"That sounds exhaustingly painful and long." She huffs, leaning back in her chair with an arched brow. Cassian too leans back, his feet bracing further apart on the floor where he had turned completely to face Oliver. For a moment the two stare at each other, Isabella draped across her seat like a throne and Cassian sitting back straight and arms crossed in an attempt to make himself appear more domineering.

Distantly, Isabella registers someone sighing in irritation. Food is piled onto plates loudly as though they can break the staring contest but its not until Isabella feels Oliver lean his weight back against her that she looks away, ignoring Cassian's triumphant huff.

Not that her concession matters since Oliver has mimicked Isabella's movements with frightening accuracy down to the glare he is now giving his once battle mate.

Cassian's brows raise in surprise at the boys glare and for a moment fear flickers in Isabella. It's enough to have her straightening slightly, arms curing around her son as though she would be able to protect him from Cassian's wrath.

She had been so stupid to forget herself like that.

But it's Cassian's glance to her that has her truly stiffening, the slight flare of his nostrils that no doubt has him scenting her fear but instead of mocking her that playful light in his eyes that she hadn't noticed until it disappeared flickered out as he slowly turned back to his food.

For a while she just watches him from the corner of her eye as Azriel and Elain engage in polite conversation with Rhys' occasional input. Every movement of Cassian's feels calculated, his hands always splayed open and each action slow and calm as if he can sense her worried eyes on him, waiting for him to lash out.

Isabella forces a smile when Oliver uses one of his wooden horses to stomp over to Cassian's side, knocking over the male's own toy horses and soldiers in a wild and reckless move that has them clattering across the table. He was never very good at saying aloud how he felt but her son did still express himself in other ways.

Even if his triumphant smile feels misguided and wrong when he takes the General piece from Cassian's side of the table and presents it to her as if he had truly fought in a battle.

A/N: Oliver helping Cassian heal his inner child is a goal of mine