Isabella

She glared down at the piece of paper before her, yet again attempting to write to her sister. Her twin. It shouldn't be this hard but she's left it so long that it's become... odd. Unnatural. She's never had to write to Nesta before. They always just speak in person and share thoughts with a single look. Now she has to literally spell everything out.

Dear Nesta,

Nes,

To Nesta,

To My sister,

To my Sister,

It doesn't feel like them. Like their relationship. It feels as if she's traded her close bond with Nesta for a distant one with an acquaintance. Azriel had listened patiently to her the other evening. He had let her rant to her heart's content until she had solved, or rather diagnosed the problem herself. Which meant they had no solution and she only felt marginally better for having voiced everything.

The shadowsinger hadn't said anything, clearly knowing she just needed to get the words out. It always amazed her how well she fit with her mates. Cassian would have offered her solutions, and worked out a plan with her. Rhys would have tried to just fix it for her. Which would have been interesting to see. She wonders if Rhys would have sent Nesta a letter himself, one that would have quite possibly demanded that Nesta send Isabella a letter first.

Azriel, her quite mate, was always content to just be with her. To not influence her or make decisions, only offer support or add information to her growing repertoire. Though she's not naive enough to believe that he hasn't been keeping tabs on her sisters. Not just to keep them safe but to see what their reaction has been to her leaving.

Especially Nesta. Especially after how she and Nesta had gotten upset with Feyre at their first meeting. It was clear to the outsiders that the elder sisters were angry out of concern for the youngest. Both were furious at her for not sending word that she was safe and alive.

Isabella shudders to think about how awful those months had been. How their hopes had slowly shattered as the inevitable thought of death crept into their minds. There was no way Feyre could have survived. It was fate and sheer dumb luck that had saved her. Or rather the game that was being played.

She and Nesta had spoken of it, their assumption that Feyre had been either turned into a slave or a toy. They couldn't decide whether to pray for their sister to have a quick and merciful death, or for the High Lord to stay entertained with her long enough for Feyre to live as long as possible.

Dear Nesta,

My apologies for not writing in so long.

Nesta,

Oliver and I are safe and happy.

Sister,

I know I should have written sooner, please forgive me for the delay.

Nes,

I'm sorry.

She flung the paper into the basket at her feet, tipping the whole thing into the fire before storming from the room. This was ridiculous. Nesta was her sister, her twin for gods sake. They had spoken plenty, and when they hadn't spoken they knew the other better than themselves.

But that was when they were together.

Ever since Isabella moved in with the Mandrays a distance had grown between them. Walls and barriers rising to match the physical distance. Secrets and lies to hide the truth.

Now she didn't know how to go back in time. Back to who they were before all of this. Before Tomas, before they lost Feyre, before they left.

Yet the sound of Oliver playing happily and free outside made everything worth it. It had taken time, and it will take more time before they're anywhere close to good but the progress...

A soft smile spread across her face as she leant against the frame of the backdoor.

Oliver was trotting around their small back garden, taking full advantage of the recently cut grass and trimmed bushes. It was like his own little maze as he held bat-bat high over his head to sail through the air. A small wisp of a shadow trailed alongside the soft purple toy and Isabella realised Oliver wasn't holding bat-bat at all.

Rather Wisp was dangling the toy just above Oliver's hand as they raced across the garden.

Azriel would have a fit.

One of his precious shadows playing with a toy? And a toddler?

And his other sentient shadows playing as housewives? A bitter voice grumbled in her head and Isabella turned with a raised brow to where a shadow was floating along her cooling rack.

It seemed to be inspecting the small loaves she had made for Oliver's lunch sandwich. A task, which she would like to point out, that she hadn't asked the shadow to do. In other words, it was the creature's own damn decision to become a housewife.

"You could always go back to Azriel." She said aloud, rolling her eyes at the scoff of disbelief.

Mother no, he's so morose.

"You chose him," She pointed out, walking over to the bread trays. "Should have picked someone more.... Jolly."

Doesn't work like that.

"Ah, voting process."

Also not that.

"Lottery of names?"

No wonder you and Cassian get on so well.

"Not exactly the insult you think it is," Nevertheless she swats at the shadow with a tea-towel. "But that is my mate you are referring to."

The shadow screeches, loud enough to make her wince. Not enough for her to feel guilty but she did leave the creature alone in favour of wrapping up the bread with bees' wax parchment.

"Why did you pick Azriel?" She eventually asks, too curious to not.

He was lonely. She gets the distinct impression that the shadow is shrugging even though it doesn't move. Like you.

She tilts her head, "Is that why you've started speaking to me?"

It pauses and Isabella can finally appreciate how strange it is to see one of the shadows go completely still. Frozen in time.

We've always spoken to people.

Isabella frowns, feeling like there's more to the statement.

They rarely hear us.

Dear Nesta,

Oliver is doing well here. He's spending most of his days outside now, enough that Cassian cleared out our back garden. I say cleared out, he cut the grass and Rhys appeared to magically trim the bushes and plants when it became apparent that General had no skills in that area. Spring is finally starting to set in and I'm thinking of taking Oliver to the local park more often. Let him get to know the local children more. Hopefully they'll be more understanding than the children back at our village.

Cassian and Azriel are away on some business in Illyria when the High Lord appears on her doorstep with a basket full of food. Isabella grinned and let him inside, calling out for Oliver to come say hi. Her son, clearly matching his mother, greeted Rhys with a record short hug before turning to the basket of food.

Both adults had smiled at the innocent voice as he asked what food was in the bag. The puppy dog eyes were soon put away as Rhys declared it to be from their favourite pasta restaurant.

Oliver leapt forward, excitedly hugging Rhys as he professed his thanks. Isabella grinned, leaning back against the wall to take in the sight of Rhys laughing with her son as he lighted the boy up to rest on his hip.

Rhys caught her gaze, gesturing to the kitchen "Shall we?"

They had the food laid out on the kitchen table in a matter of minutes. One kids tomato pasta, a mushroom and chicken Alfredo for Isabella and a pesto dish for the high lord. For several long minutes there was only the sound of eating as they all dove into the food after a long day.

Oliver was making little humming noises as he managed to get tomato sauce all over his face. Rhys' hand jerked as if he were going to use his magic but then he reached for a napkin. Isabella made no comment beyond a content smile as Rhys cleaned off the worst of the food from Oliver.

She didn't mention that it was a fruitless endeavour considering Oliver wasn't finished eating. Not when Rhys looked so happy to have helped. To have lived through such a domestic moment.

Sometimes she forgot how new these simple interactions were to her males. How these everyday events meant the world to them. It was easy to forget when she was knee deep in dirty toys, making dinner and trying to keep a toddler from having a meltdown. It had confused her at the beginning. All those little jobs and roles that she had grown to view as 'yet another thing' had her males jumping to their feet in excitement.

Every new moment was precious to them. Isabella was enjoying falling in love with her life again.

You'll call me a sentimental fool, sister, but this simple life is so beautiful here. It's as if I can finally breathe and love life for the joy of it. My males have taken to domesticity surprisingly well. Cassian jumped head first in, but that was to be expected considering he loves to cook and 'play at house'. I'll admit that Azriel is struggling a little, he wants to have this life but isn't sure how. He's doing his best and based on the others' reaction these small steps have actually been giant leaps and bounds for him.

Rhys isn't necessarily struggling with being domestic, it's more a struggle to find a balance between High Lord and Rhys. Again, not a surprise, but something tells me this is going to be a long term issue. He brought us take-away pasta the other day, from our favourite restaurant. I hope I'll get to share some of this with you one day, even if I have to take the pasta to you rather than have you join me here.

She and Azriel walked arm in arm through the park. Cassian was still in Illyria and Rhys was stuck in meetings all day. Though Rhys had told her last night that he was planning to stop by Illyria with some food for Cassian. His favourite bakes from Velaris no doubt. A little emotional boost. Which is why Isabella had spent all morning making fudgy brownies for her mate only to remember she couldn't offer him food.

Then she had decided she had only made the food, she wasn't offering it to him so it should be fine. But she had still asked Rhys to say they were a gift from him and not Isabella just for clarity's sake. Though they both knew Cassian would know who they were really from.

Especially since Rhys would no doubt cave in seconds and tell him.

"He seems to be getting on well with them." Azriel comments and for a moment she thinks he's talking about Rhys getting along well with Cassian and Azriel. "Ol is certainly coming out of his shell."

He was right. Her son was racing around the playpark in the centre of the park with a few of the other fae children. No, lesser-fae children. They had walked to a different park after they had strolled through the local one and realised the parents were a little too snooty for their liking.

"They seem to be accepting him just fine." Isabella says lightly though her chest is still tight with worry.

"They're children." Azriel reminds her softly. "Children rarely have prejudices and when they do it's just the parroted words of their parents."

"That's what worries me." She nervously eyes the parents watching them stroll around the park.

Azriel sighs, it's a sad but pointed sound. "I thought we had moved past this after our little game."

"Just because we decided to guess all their dirty little secrets doesn't mean I like them." She grumbles, squeezing his arm when he snorts in amusement. "Besides, they're still watching us."

"Maybe they're admiring your new gloves."

They were lovely gloves. Lace ones designed for beauty rather than warms. They were a spring gift from Azriel. She had a pair from their winter courting season but he didn't want her to over heat or look out of fashion when they courted during the spring.

"Maybe they're eyeing the male wearing all black in the middle of spring." She counters, smiling up at him innocently as he gives her a fond look.

"Yeah," He sighs, glancing at the families watching them walk past. "You're probably right.

She smiled up at her mate, snuggling in closer to his side.

It's nice to be courted the human way. Cassian desperately wants to share the good side of Illyrian culture. One of his many efforts over the centuries to revive Illyria and move them away from just a High Lord's slave army. He's been kind enough to integrate his traditions with mine. On our fourth date when we should have been at a public event by human standards he took me to Illyria while Azriel stayed in with Oliver.

Rhys had joined us because he had some political issues to deal with but I know he was just worried about me being in one of the war camps. It was certainly as grim as Azriel told me but the females Cassian introduced me to were nice - hesitantly nice - but lovely nonetheless. I could have spent hours listening to their campfire stories. I had wanted to bring Oliver, and said as much to Cassian. That seemed to have the females liking me more even if Cassian looked nervous at the idea.

Anyway, I'm getting a little off topic. Azriel wanted to make me comfortable so he's been doing things the 'traditional human way' especially since he has no real love of Illyria. He gifted me a beautiful pair of purple-blue lace gloves. Elain would love their craftsmanship of such things here. Perhaps I'll gift her a pair of her own gloves, her birthday is soon after all.

Cassian, it seemed, shared a birth month with her little sister. He had confessed to her late one evening that he didn't actually know when his birthday was but that Rhys' mother hadn't stood for it. So they had picked a random date and decided that would be Cassian's birthday. Or rather, Cassian had looked so miserable with his allergies by mid spring that his adoptive mother had decided to cheer him up by placing his birthday in late spring as something to look forward to.

As per tradition they had made him and autumn and winter themed cake with red trimmings. It was apparently a long standing joke that they were the seasons he most preferred. A little brotherly jest they had made up at the age of 13 and had continued to laugh at every celebration.

Another learning curve had been sent her way when she discovered that they only celebrated every ten years after the first twenty. More accurately, it was every year for the first twenty, then every five years and once you reached 100 it was every ten. At some point past three hundred most people celebrated less and less.

That's because they usually forget when their actual birthday is.

Early onset dementia. Isabella paused. Late onset dementia?

Only by human standards.

I am a human.

Cassian's birthday was certainly an interesting affair. We spent the whole morning playing board games around the fire. And by we, I mean everyone - including the elusive Amren who was kept on the opposite side of the room to me. Those ridiculous males think I didn't notice Azriel was seated by her side and how she never interacted with me. Granted I could feel her eyes on me whenever I wasn't looking but it seemed she respected Cassian's birthday as a no drama event.

Which I can appreciate, especially considering both Cas and Ollie insisted that Oliver would be there. It was just as adorable as you would expect. Normally I could help him with all the games but they were fae board games so we were both clueless much to Feyre's delight and amusement. A very rude stance for her to take in my opinion considering that she barely knew what she was doing as well.

For the record, it was a full day and evening affair (evening as in all night - till dawn) so this might be a long letter. But the lunch was incredible. Rhys went all out for Cassian, which I suspect was compensation for the 50 years worth (5 celebrations) he missed. There was a massive buffet in the middle of Velaris, all the shops and restaurants had opened up their doors at discounted prices. Everyone was invited.

And as Isabella stared at the male before her she regretted Rhys' decision to invite everyone.

A/N: I've decided to use these one shot chapters as an opportunity to do some time skips. I think it's more realistic that Hybern would have taken a few years to gather forces and change tactics. Plus it not only puts the High Lords in a more stable position but gives time for Isabella and her mates to solidify their relationship (and lets ollie age up and have a childhood before the next round of trauma)

As such I am now taking oneshot-ish suggestions for various stages of Ollie's life and the relationship between central characters (don't worry, I will still be showing their developing relationships and not just saying "they're all friends now, whoop whoop")