Isabella

Oliver was laid out on the sofa at her insistence. Rhys had seemed rather put out by it, wanting to be a 'gracious host' and care for the young mother and her son. Isabella on the other hand wanted to leave at the nearest given moment. Having Ollie closeby would make that easier.

Plus... she had got a little clingy lately.

The new move, the people, and suddenly it was no longer just Ollie wanting to stay closeby. Logically she knew they would have to address the issue soon. In her defence, she had been patiently working up time spent away from her son thanks to Azriel.

The shadowsinger knew something was off with her, might have even worked it out but- again- he'd been too awkward to say anything. It's starting to get a little irritating. Like her fears have become reality.

Turns out dating does ruin a friendship.

None of them knew where the boundaries were anymore. Azriel was trying to be more courteous, dating her in the proper human manner. Cassian was trying desperately to hold himself back while also jumping in head first to the relationship.

And Isabella... well.

Quite frankly, awkwardly sitting across from her sister and shadowsinger while the High Lord holds court with her pretty much sums up her dating life. She had her son snoring on one side, a brooding mate on the other, her sister emotionally cockblocking and Rhysand being Rhysand... whatever that means.

Why couldn't this just go smoothly for once.

"You'll have to come over for dinner soon," Rhys smiles openly, pouring out cups of tea. "Mor and Amren would like to have a proper introduction to you... and we haven't caught up properly in a while."

The last part was said with a directed look to the shadowsinger who was already staring blankly at the High Lord. At her... well her... not-mate?

None of them were particularly sure.

Isabella had hedged an uncomfortable question about the males and threesomes only to be shut down with disgusted snarls and full body shudders. Apparently it was just a Cassian and Azriel thing.

"I thought Mor might join us at the cafe one day." Isabella glanced at her sister, looking for some kind of reaction. "I'm sure Amren could join us."

Azriel snorted, the High Lord winced. Placing down his cup of tea, Rhys placatingly explained. "It would be best to meet Amren with all of us present, in a formal setting."

Isabella arched a brow, if not in question of his explanation then in rebuke of his tone.

"Perhaps you could leave Oliver with a babysitter–"

"That won't be necessary."

She interrupted too fast and Rhys narrowed his eyes. She could practically feel the concern beginning to emanate from the males. Feyre had the kindness to interrupt and start talking about Mor and Amren, wittering on about their personalities and interests.

No one paid her any mind. Rhys and Azriel stared at her, waiting for an explanation but she ignored them both, absently toying with her empty wedding finger as she stared at her son.

He had settled in nicely, she reminded herself. The clinginess was to be expected but he wasn't put off the new place. Which meant this was all in her head and she was being ridiculous.

Doubting herself.

Though that was the wrong statement to. She wouldn't change her decision, not in a million years, but- well... she was scared. Plain and simple. When she could retreat to her home and shy away from the males she was more confident. Not to mention she felt removed from the fae issues.

She didn't like being on unsure footing. Especially in yet another unknown social circle. She had gone from the rich elite, to the dirt poor and is now hovering somewhere in the middle. The upper middle if she was being honest. But she was also surrounded by fae so she felt lesser.

"-Mor would absolutely adore Oliver but I think it would be best to keep Amren away from him until she gets used to the idea of a child in the house."

Feyre is staring at her expectantly and Isabella can only stare back impassively. She had stupidly zoned out. Feyre clearly hadn't picked up on the shift in her attention but the males had. In fact they hadn't taken their eyes off of her.

Azriel was more subtle with his attention, especially since he was splitting it between her and glaring at the High Lord. Said High Lord was staring her down with a twisted smirk, clearly pleased to have caught her out.

He probably prompted Feyre to bring up the subject, especially after her earlier reaction.

Again, Isabella looks towards her son. Shifting her body subtly, knowing it would help Feyre to pick up on where her attention has drifted. Indeed, her sister shifts a little with her, looking to her nephew who snores mouth open on the sofa before the fire.

"It's nothing against Ollie of course," Feyre rushes out. "Amren is just... well- Amren."

Her sister looks to the High Lord for help but Isabella continues to watch her son, waiting for the others to finish planning their proposed interaction to a tee.

"Amren comes from another world, one where she exists in a more... primitive form and manner." He gestured to the living room, towards Oliver who was curled around a few errant shadows. "She dislikes children and I don't want to add another worry to your plate."

He emphasises the 'another' and Isabella cuts him a sharp glance.

Oh how their relationship had changed. It was no longer whimsical conversations and advice, discussions of politics and strategy. Now she was reduced to a mother. To worries and things on her plate.

How bizarre that when she was trapped in a dusty old marriage they had been keen to see the woman beyond the wedding band. Now that the wedding band is gone they've reduced to her all they think that is left. Or maybe to fit her into a role.

Or maybe she's just projecting her fears. But they're valid fears and she's never been too far from the truth in all her speculations.

There's a sharp huff and– "You could at least give us some answer."

"Feyre." Rhys warns

"No." She snaps, crossing her arms. "We've had a nice and lovely afternoon, then all of sudden we get the silent treatment."

Isabella's been doing that a lot recently. She knows that.

"If there's a problem–"

"Yes, yes," Isabella cuts off flipantly, ignoring her sister's attempt to calm down and be understanding. "You'll fix it."

She straightens up a little, still staring at the fire as she's in no mood to see their expressions.

"Rhys'll throw money at it. Cassian will kill it. Perhaps we can have Azriel hunt it down for sport." She rubs at her forehead. "Do you people have an answer for anything that isn't violence and obscene wealth?"

Silence.

She might have gone a little too far but she's tired.

"Well this feels like an awkward time to interrupt." Isabella is on her feet and wrapping her arms around the general before he can blink.

He lets out a soft off, curling around her– arms and wings– so that they're wrapped in a little bubble for a short moment. She feels him pur against her, head resting on the top of her head and inhaling her scent before pulling back.

Cas keeps one arm slung around her shoulder, leading her towards the sofa next to Oliver and perching down there.

"Good day?" He called over one shoulder to Azriel who had risen to his feet. "The little one certainly seems knocked out."

Azriel snorts, joining them in an armchair. Isabella finds herself nestling further into Cassian's side, ignoring the soft footsteps of her sister walking away. Neither of them said goodbye.

Oliver doesn't stir next to her but she gently shifts him until his head is in her lap and his limbs no longer splay out awkwardly.

Rhys snaps his fingers as he walks past, causing a dark blanket to softly drop over the boy since he had shrugged off the original one at some point in his slumber.

"You're back early." Rhys comments, taking up the last armchair on the other side of the fireplace to Azriel. "I thought it would take you longer to finish up at Windhaven."

She felt like she was intruding on their conversion yet like she was exactly where she should be. Curled up with Cassian and her son in front of a warm fire while Rhys and Azriel talk shop from opposing sides of the coffee table.

A coffee table that was quickly filled with reports as Cassian dove into business. Thankfully they can still work together fine. Couple hundred years of practice and arguments has instilled a natural efficiency in them.

Rhys reads through the reports while Cassian gives him live updates on some kind of rebellion prevention and new training initiatives. All while Azriel reads through and finishes off the actual paper work while making his own.

Isabella partly listens in. Intrigued by the discussion once it reaches the females. She can understand their plight much more easily than the illyrian rebellion groups.

Cassian sighs, running a hand through his hair while she toys with his other hand, using her sleeve to buff the red siphon on his gauntlet.

"Progress is slow. The camp lord barely allows them to train and when they do it's with heavy social consequences." She can hear the stress and pain in his voice. "Most females are hesitant to join."

Isabella snorts and the males glance down to her but she only peers up Cassian.

"You can't expect them to suddenly change mindsets." She soothes and his shoulders sag.

"I know but I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm."

She shrugs, "In their defence, you did pick the most controversial way to achieve equality."

He arches a brow at her. She arches one back, straightening up a little to properly face him without shifting Oliver too much.

"What?" She glances at the other males who are now peering at her over the top of her paperwork. "Only a male would think the best way to be seen as equals is through fighting."

Azriel snorts, agreeing with her. Or rather, agreeing with anything that's even remotely anti-illyrian. Rhys shoots the shadowsinger, a look that is promptly ignored.

"Trust me," Rhys grimaces a little. "We've tried other approaches."

Isabella shrugs again, "I'm sure you have but where exactly are the reports from the females?"

She immediately places a hand on Cassian's arm, feeling him tense a little, "And not just your social check ins to hear their opinions."

Isabella turns to Rhys. "Those look like a lot of reports written by males to another male about their male opinions on female matters." She narrows her eyes when he starts to smirk in delight. "For that matter, where is Morrigan? She's not an Illyrian but at least she's female. Why isn't she sitting in on your little boys club meeting?"

"You're in a fun mood today." Cassian comments from above and Isabella sighs straightening up completely.

"And you had to go and ruin a good thing." She huffs, shuffling around till she's leant against the opposite armrest to Cassian. But not before shifting out from under Oliver and letting him rest against the general. She arches a brow at his affronted expression. "Please, continue to dismiss my thoughts and opinions. Here are the consequences."

She gestures to the child on his lap.

"Would you like to take Oliver back to illyria with you," Azriel coughs, straightening up as his shadows buzz furiously. "And while you have to single handedly look after him– and I do mean look after; breakfast, lunch, dinner, bath, laundry, cleaning, education and injury prevention. Please try to train for a couple hours straight against people who hate you and want you to fail and quite possibly die."

He's staring at her with something like adoration.

She inhales, breathing a little heavier than before.

"Well-"

She turns to Rhys, raising a hand. "In my defence, you cut off our weekly politics talks and I've been desperate to have an opinion and debate something."

"I cut off our weekly talks?"

"You debated with me over bribery!"

The two affronted males glance at each other. At their mirroring stances of disbelief. Both Rhys and Azriel clear their throats, looking away awkwardly. Azriel turns back to his reports but Rhys' gaze lingers on the shadowsinger for a second longer before turning back to Isabella.

"First of all, you stopped accepting my invitations to the river," She opens her mouth to protest but he gives her a look that clearly says 'my turn'. "Second of all, most of the females are unwilling to talk to us. And change comes horrifically slow to illyria."

He pauses, waiting for her to take in the new information.

Well sucks for him, because this topic is important to Cassian and hated by Azriel so she's been learning everything she can.

Except about the rebellion, she's avoiding discussion of extreme violence for a while.

"Perhaps the change is coming slow because it's viewed as a negative thing by the people you are claiming to help."

Cassian gapes at her, "We're not claiming anything–"

"Yes you are." She points at him. "That's exactly what you're doing. It's the Isabella and Tomas situation but on a massive scale."

It's like she's sucked out all the air in the room. A dead silence hangs in the air as all of them look anywhere but at each other.

"Well this feels like a good a time as any to bring it up," Rhys quietly states and Isabella closes her eyes for a second. "But what happened the night you left Tomas?"

"You're a High Lord, surely you can figure it out." She murmurs and he bristles.

"I'm trying to be courteous and let you broach the subject."

Azriel snorts.

"Bullshit." She states, staring the High Lord down with bitter eyes. "You're just pissed that no one is telling you shit."

"I know you've been having nightmares."

Her gaze snaps to Cassian who has already raised his hands in defence, a guilt expression plastered on his face.

"Look, i was worried and needed to vent–"

"That's what you have Azriel for." She hisses, something tightening in her chest at the slight betrayal.

"Azriel was busy."

"Azriel was doing a very good job at keeping his mouth shut." She counters and Cassian turns to Az with a snarl.

"Yeah, I'm well acquainted with his secret keeping abilities."

The male in question sighs, dropping the reports back onto the coffee table before leaning back in his armchair and crossing his arm across his chest. Isabella ignores the way it makes his muscles bulge.

"You'll have to be more specific about which secret." Azriel croons, a fire lighting in his eyes as he taunts Cassian. "There's just so many."

Cassian snarls, moving to stand but Olvier shifts, forcing him to sit back down and rest an arm on the sleeping boy.

Cassian snaps his gaze back to her, glancing at Rhys and in that seconds she knows he's switched sides. "What did exactly happen that night? Hmm?"

He's angry.

Isabella swallows nervously. "You were there."

"I black out." He snarls, tilting his head to the side as he stares down at her. "You'll have to refresh my memory."

"Cassian." Azriel warns and the General shoots him a glare.

Isabella looks to the shadow singer for support but even he has fallen quiet. Though a shadow curls around her wrist, humming with warmth and Isabella knows she has Azriel's support but it's clear he also wants her to open.

He's been wanting her to for a while.

Turns out the shadowsinger is a massive advocate for therapy. Though she suspects it's for everyone but himself.

Her throat bobs and she glancing down to her son. Where his legs are resting against hers, at the rosy cheeks mushed against Cassian's leg. He's so young, and she's already fucked up his life.

"I'm not discussing this with Oliver here."

"Fine." Rhys raises a hand-

"If you dare to use magic on my child I will smash your head with that pretty sculpture."

Rhys blinks at her, lowering her hand at the intensity of her tone while cutting a glance to the stone carving of a stag and deer.

"My mother bought that sculpture." He reports somewhat absently.

"I'm sure she would understand my plight." She snips, glaring down at the lord who huffs out a laugh.

"Fine. I'll carry Oliver to one of the upstairs bedrooms."

So she's not getting out of this house without spilling some kind of truth.

"Rhys." Azriel warns, sensing her distress. "We can continue this another time."

"A statement that has been said plenty these past three months." Rhys gripes, snarling at Azriel as he broaches the unspoken disagreement between the brothers. "How much longer will this all continue to drag on?"

No one answers him.

"Because this is getting ridiculous."

It really is. And Cassian has seemingly had enough, once again, because for some reason it's always Cassian who has enough and decided to pull the other two into shape.

"Do you want to fuck Isabella?"

A/N: I am so so sorry for disappearing for over a month. I had a conference in New Zealand and university deadlines. On the plus side– I GOT MY FIRST UNIVERSITY OFFER!!!!!! And in celebration of getting my safety school and being able to relax about future offers, I've written a chapter.