✔ Mrs Mandray

34. Winter Solstice Decorations

Isabella

Their first date was not in fact a trip to Velaris but rather Cassian appearing a day or so later with Winter Solstice decorations. Or what he claimed would turn into Christmas decorations once he and Oliver had made them so.

Her heart had burst.

It was the sweetest sight imaginable. Cassian hunched over her kitchen table, carefully weaving different leafy plants into wreaths, her son at his side bundled up in his new blanket. Oliver was watching the winged male with such concentration and determination that she couldn't help but akin him with one of the hunting hounds. Relentless in his hunt for perfection and success.

The previous crafts had been a little more child friendly. The traditional painting of wood carving (that she suspected Cassian had carved himself), baking some kind of winter berry pie (with most of the mixture ending up in her son's mouth or on the floor) and her personal favourite of painting little ceramic decorations to hand from the window frame (there were many pieces of broken pottery on her floor).

In short, her home was a mess, utterly trashed and she couldn't be happier.

Cassian grinned up at her as if catching on to her moment of joy as she watched the pair. It's easier to turn back to making mugs of tea rather than letting Cas see the burning in her cheeks. He knows though, that rough chuckle tells her all she needs to know.

Carefully carrying the two mugs back to the table she grins down at the utter shamble of a mess Ollie has made out of wreath.

"No, Tin- Tiny. tiny" Cassian implores, with a gentle exasperated sigh. "That's clearly not working." He finally states, giving up with the babying and kid gloves. Ollie glares at him, still jamming the small pair of old pliers at the thick branches in his hands. And oh is her son starting to get cranky.

"I think it's someone's bed time." She sings, placing the mugs on the table and that petulant glare whips towards– Isabella pays Cassian no heed. "Come now Ollie, get yourself washed and changed."

It's a new thing apparently, this sudden burst of independence. Isabella wasn't going to stop him but a small part of her hurt at his growing up, at the fact he didn't need her help to get changed into pyjamas anymore. He still needed help getting dressed of course, what with the buckles and buttons that he can just tug out like at night.

"I can't believe you sent him to bed." Cassian grumbled and she stifled her giggles. She watched as Ollie dragged his thick quilt upstairs. His stomping footsteps were loud as he raced through the hallway. From the way Cassian subtly twitched, the tilting of his head, she suspected that he was listening out for him.

"Do you want to deal with a cranky toddler?" Isabella arched a brow in question, relishing in her ability to do so when it was clear that the general could only raise his brows together. "Because I just saved you from yourself."

"But we were having fun." Can he hear himself right now? "You didn't even let him finish the wreath."

"The one he was making?" She countered, smirking at the petulant male. He eventually sighed, conceding, but the smug grin on Cassian's face suggested trouble.

"I think you just wanted to get me alone." Oh she wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. "There's nothing wrong with that of course, I'm quite flattered, but you could've just asked."

"Mm-hmmm." She mockingly agreed, narrowing her eyes as she picked up the broomstick leant against the kitchen wall. "Or perhaps I was looking for an excuse to leave you alone with the tidying up while I get my son ready for bed."

Cassian's dramatic groan had her giggling. He accepted the broomstick and spun in a circle to survey the mess.

"Tiny- eh... we made quite the mess." He mutters and despite the guilty look on his face she could see the warmth in his eyes. Isabella knew that look was reflected in her own. It had been a long time since this house looked like a home. But with the messy table, broken decorations and the laughter that had filled the house she couldn't help but remember her own youth.