Thank you guys so much for your (ongoing) support! We surpassed 50 reviews! I'm so happy and proud! And this is the tenth chapter already... finally left the single digits behind! Anyway, enjoy!

Beta-ed by JelloDVDs~ :]

The Great Hall spread out before Alec in all its golden glory. The eagle banners of House Herondale graced the walls, the blazing gold shimmering in the light, and the ornaments above the open hearths were covered in gold leaf. Sunlight streamed into the hall from the high windows, creating interesting shadows as it collided with the rows of tables and benches that covered the distance between the main entrance and the royal throne upon its dais at the back. Groups of women were huddled around the hearths, their skilful hands occupied with needle and thread or yarn as they sewed, crocheted and knitted while talking with each other in hushed voices.

Other hearths were currently occupied by musicians, strumming away merrily at their harps or polishing the metal and wood of their flutes as they revised or composed songs, creating tales of Jonathan the First and Mandel the Warrior. There were children too, being taught how to read and write by teachers with hunched backs and patient smiles.

Alec passed them on his way to the back of the Hall, nodding at the teachers who looked up at him, and at the young ladies who hid their giggles behind dainty, gloved hands. They were pretty enough, but they could never rival the wild beauty of his sister, or the gorgeous handsomeness of Magnus.

"Magnus," Alec whispered to himself, just to taste the name on his lips. It had been a while since he had last seen the tall man. He hadn't had a chance to visit Magnus in the brothel after the night they had spent together in gentle passion and urgent need.

"You should talk to Jace about creating a royal brothel on the premises. I think I could get used to living here," Magnus had joked in the morning, the golden sunlight causing his caramel skin to glisten and the golden flecks in his eyes to dance.

Alec cut some soft cheese and handed it to Magnus, who took it happily. He'd expressed his appreciation for the castle's fine cheeses multiple times, and Alec had tried to bring him a wider variety to break their fasts.

"That sounds like a terrible idea," he had informed Magnus with a snort.

"A man is entitled to his dreams." Magnus had reached over and placed a hungry kiss on Alec's lips. He tasted like cheese and sweet wine, and he smelt of sex and warm sandalwood, a delicious combination. Magnus had nipped his neck playfully before retreating, his eyes narrowed in pleasure as he regarded Alec's flushed cheeks. "Plus, there is something sinfully delightful about knowing you are around the corner at all times."

"Magnus-" Alec had started, but he never got to finish his sentence as Magnus pushed him over onto the mattress and locked their lips in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss.

Magnus had left later that day while Alec was attending a small council meeting. Alec had been terribly disappointed to return to his chambers to find them empty, with nothing but the crinkled sheets and the left-over wisps of Magnus's scent to accompany him, and to remind him that the events had actually occurred in the first place.

Alec had become busy after that; the lockdown was lifted and the castle flooded with members of nobility that had travelled south to attend the festivities that were soon to commence. A new year was around the corner, and that meant that the annual celebration dedicated to the king was soon to happen as well. Alec hated this particular feast with a passion. Not only did it pose countless threats to Jace's safety, Alec was also expected to participate in several of the tournaments that were being organised.

Fortunately, Magnus's ointment had succeeded in completely healing Arrow's wounded leg, and the mare had recovered marvellously.

"It's a miracle, boy," the master of horse had called out as he gave Alec a sturdy pat on the back. Alec had just grinned in relief.

"Brother," Isabelle greeted him as Alec approached the hearth she was sitting at, her smile kind as she patted the empty spot on the bench next to her. Lydia smiled sweetly at him too, her nimble fingers busy with taming his sister's black hair into an intricate braid that looped around the back of her head. "Is something wrong?"

"I am just making sure you are still brimming with excitement," Alec responded, sympathy clearly audible in his voice. While Isabelle had pretended to be excited about Meliorn's return, Alec had eventually realised that her quiet demeanour had more to do with her not knowing how to deal with the situation.

Isabelle's eyes seemed to grow darker as she stared at the fire blazing lowly in the hearth. "Always," she said with a sad smile. "I am not entirely sure what our lady mother would like me to do. On one hand, she despised the Seelie Court and everyone who descends from it, but on the other hand, we are quite desperate for something that will strengthen our alliance with the Seelie knights. For whatever reason, it seems that no matter the situation, I cannot ever do anything right."

"It is not on you to strengthen the alliance with the Seelies, Izzy," Alec reminded her. Isabelle grabbed his hand and squeezed it firmly.

"I know," Isabelle replied. "There would not have been an issue if the council had taken their opinions into consideration earlier, instead of handing more power to the Clave."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Lydia added, squeezing Isabelle's shoulder softly. "Otherwise we'll just make you disappear at the most fortunate times. Or I can even take you home with me to the Chicog. You will love it there." Isabelle smiled at the huntress, placing her other hand over Lydia's. The two of them were surprisingly close, especially since they did not seem to like each other when Lydia first attended the court. Her family, House Branwell, owned the fertile lands of the Chicog, which were in the river lands. It was said to be an extremely beautiful place; idyllic in its silence, and stunning in its greenery.

Lydia had once promised to bring Alec there, before Alec had promised himself to the King's Guard. Now, the offer still stood, but in a different light, and for different reasons.

"That would be wonderful, Lydia," Alec said with a nod.

"Would your mother be all right with bringing a Lightwood there?" Isabelle asked, and Lydia shrugged.

"After a while, potentially. She is mellower than she used to be. Although that doesn't say much." Lady Charlotte Branwell ruled the Chicog with an iron fist, it was well known. Her reputation was similar to that of Maryse Lightwood, but despite the many traits they shared, Lady Branwell and Maryse had never gotten along.

"We have too much in common," Isabelle laughed softly. They shared a look that Alec couldn't read, and he wondered how deep that connection went exactly, before shaking the thought from his mind. His sister would never engage in those things, after all.

"Ser Lightwood," a gruff voice sounded behind them. Alec rose from the bench and turned around, his posture completely straight and his muscles tensed.

"Lord Aldertree."

"The ship is about to reach the harbour. Being late would reflect badly upon the crown's hospitality," Aldertree reminded him with a disapproving frown. The man had arrived at court a few days ago, and his presence was decidedly an unwanted one.

"Isabelle, are you almost ready?" Alec asked kindly, although none of that kindness translated into the sharp glare he sent Aldertree. The man had shown an unhealthy amount of interest in the Lightwood family, and while Alec forfeited his House's colours when donning the golden cloak of the King's Guard, he still felt extremely protective regarding his sister.

"Certainly. Excuse me for my bad courtesy. A lady should never leave a gentleman waiting," Isabelle said with a smile so bright it was clear mockery, grabbing Alec's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Lady Lydia is almost done."

"You would have been ready earlier if you hadn't insisted on getting your hair redone," Lydia stated in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, quickly finishing the last of the braid before securing some loose strands that had escaped throughout the process.

"My maids never bother to listen to me. They seem to have forgotten that I'm not my lady mother," Isabelle complained. "It is not expected of me to govern. Instead, I have to seduce. I can't do that when I'm dressed like the prime of my years is beyond me, can I, Lord Aldertree?"

"Most certainly not, my lady," Victor Aldertree responded, but the amiable expression that dominated his features did not reach his eyes. "You look positively gorgeous. The Angel's mortal daughters would be jealous if they only so much as caught a glimpse."

"Thank you, my lord. I wouldn't want to insult Lord Meliorn and his host by not looking my very best."

"Admirable, my lady. If only next time you could try to do this in a more timely manner."

"We will arrive there with time to spare, the welcoming party has been kept to a minimum. Seelie knights are not particularly fond of unnecessary traditional procedures," Alec defended his sister, before turning to Lydia. "Are you done?"

"It seems so," the blonde woman said, giving him a nod of approval. As if that was her cue, Isabelle rose deftly. She made to reach for her brother's arm, but reconsidered when Aldertree offered her his instead. Alec watched, his gut feeling uncomfortably tangled, as her fingers curled neatly around the crease of Aldertree's elbow.

"Thank you, Lydia," Isabelle said happily, before leaning over to press a soft kiss onto the woman's cheek.

"My pleasure, Lady Isabelle," Lydia said with a curtsy.

They turned heads as they made their way back through the Great Hall. Alec was clad in his full armour, the black plate glistening marvellously and the gold of his silk cloak flowing down from his shoulders gracefully. His sister was absolutely beautiful as usual, with a flowing, bright red gown that had a tight, embroidered bodice and a skirt that cascaded down her long frame and fluttered around her legs. The top of the bodice as well as her sleeves were decorated with fine silk from Ardúr, its quality unquestionable. Lydia had laced the stems of several red flowers through Isabelle's braid, and with her fiery red lips, she looked like she had walked straight out of a minstrel's song. Isabelle's beauty was infamous in many kingdoms, and the fact that she, a maid of nine-and-ten, was still unwed made her only more desirable. Lord Aldertree was a man from the Clave, which meant that he was automatically despised by most at the royal court. He was a dangerous man, and his reputation far exceeded him.

A small party had accumulated in the courtyard to ride through the city and to the harbour to visit their guests from the Seelie Isles. It was a quiet endeavour; while appreciated for their outstanding prowess in combat, Seelie knights were not the most welcome guests. It was said that they lived off of fruit and sweetened water, and that their lifestyle forbade them from lying. This, however, did not mean they spoke truthfully. Instead, they spoke in riddles and outsmarted everyone, making them not only extremely dangerous, but also unlikeable.

Lord Meliorn was the representative of the Seelie Court, who was to sit on the small council and aid in governing the kingdom through the ongoing crisis. The small council was going to be a tumultuous endeavour from this moment on. While the concept behind the council was good, its execution was often quite hard to accomplish. The Seelie people despised the Clave, as did the Children of the Night. The Children and the City Watch had a natural hatred for one another, and the attendance of both Lady Maryse and Hodge Starkweather had always led to much controversy. It was uncommon for kings to allow traitors in their most private circles, and yet, albeit both were pardoned, the current king had two in his small council.

"A Seelie knight, eh? I'm sure you can do better than that," Lord Rendol, a round-bellied man whose hairline was quickly crawling back across his forehead, said as Isabelle mounted her piebald gelding with the help of Lord Aldertree. It was unnecessary; she was perfectly capable of mounting the horse herself, but she still thanked the lord graciously for his help, especially since the nervous horse seemed to have a tendency to shy away from Lord Aldertree's hands.

"He has wonderful taste in gifts," Isabelle replied easily as she rearranged her skirts. Alec kept a close eye on her as he mounted Arrow. The silver horse was energetic; after the wounds had healed, the fur unsurprisingly growing back white, she had immediately returned to her normal, enthusiastic self. "He gave me a beautiful sand coloured horse with the sweetest temperament, as well as the finest jewellery." Isabelle touched the ruby necklace at her throat to emphasise her point.

"And yet you ride a horse with the looks of a cow?" the lord jested.

"If I wanted a well-behaved horse I would have chosen one myself," Isabelle responded pleasantly. "There is a beauty in a skittish animal that has character, and that looks remarkable as well. There is no horse that looks precisely like this one, whereas the Seelie Isles are roamed by countless sand-coloured mounts. I gave the horse to my cousin, so she can learn how to ride. Now, if you will excuse me."

Alec smiled at her when Isabelle nudged her horse forward. The procession came into motion. When they had passed through the gate, they proceeded to travel in an easy trot and canter as they travelled down the dwindling road to the city down below. The castle itself was built safely upon the Shadow Hill, where the first king of Idris had settled.

"Making friends?" Alec asked Isabelle.

"Always. There is something about men that encourages them to make themselves superior at the cost of others. It does not matter whether it's comparing the sizes of their cocks or the sharpness of their swords. They have the wits of horny stallions and then they wonder why they fail to court prettier women."

"What an interesting opinion to have," Lord Aldertree commented from Alec's other side. A ring of Herondale guards, glistening in their gold armour with their white cloaks, formed a protective barrier around them, transporting the lords riding out to meet the Seelie visitors like they were precious cargo. Inside of the circle, Alec led the group of highborns.

"I am just sharing my observations, my lord. Nothing more," Isabelle responded sweetly.

The ride through the city was uneventful. They arrived just in time; the ship was already docking. They greeted Meliorn appropriately after the knight had mounted his white horse. The horse had a long mane that cascaded down its thin neck in beautiful waves, with small flowers braided into the coarse hair. Its head was small and refined, and the horse itself looked like it was made out of porcelain, and not real flesh. It was nervous when it was led off the ship, but calmed down when Lord Meliorn put a gentle hand on its neck. When the most prominent members of the Seelie host had exited the ship, they started their journey back to the castle.

"Isabelle," Meliorn said in a silky voice as he rode beside her. "You are as fair as always, my lady."

"You are too kind, my lord," Isabelle responded with a giggle, fluttering her eyelashes.

"How was your journey, Lord Meliorn?" Alec asked courteously; as the king's primary guard, it was expected of him to be at least somewhat amiable.

"Tedious. The summer sea is gentle and emptied of fish. I can remember the journeys I made as a boy, when there would be dolphins gracing either side of the hull of the ship. Now, all we have is emptiness. And festivities, of course. Ser Lightwood, will you be competing in the jousting?"

"Yes," Alec responded. "I have to defend my title."

"Three times champion, I am aware. A feat that is rare, albeit not unheard of. I think this year you might find yourself with some more… challenging competition, however."

"One of your knights is competing, Meliorn?" Isabelle inquired.

"No, I will be competing myself. I have been gifted one of those ill-tempered horses, you might know the kind, the ones that are the size of a small boat. Not my preferable mount, but it will have to do. I would not want to ride the likes of our own horses into such useless and ruthless combat. It would be a waste, they are too sensitive. Is your horse injured, my sweet lady?"

"No, the mare is completely healthy. My niece fell in love with her, however, and I did not have the heart to tear the animal away from her. I am sure you will forgive me such soft-heartedness?" There was nothing about Isabelle that was soft-hearted, but Meliorn did not know that. Isabelle had always made sure to present her most desirable side to him, leaving the witty, intelligent woman a separate identity reserved for just those she trusted. It pained Alec to see her disregard herself in such a manner, but it was a necessary evil according to his sister. Most lords did not fancy a lady who talked back, after all.

The trip back fortunately occurred without any disturbances or fundamental disagreements, and Meliorn helped Isabelle off her horse when they arrived at the courtyard. Stable boys came rushing out, taking away Isabelle's piebald gelding, Meliorn's long-haired white stallion, a horse that was as pretty as any Alec had ever seen, Alec's own silver mare, and all the other mounts.

Lord Aldertree walked beside Meliorn and Isabelle as they proceeded to the Great Hall, where a feast was to be prepared. The body language of both men, however, showed that there was no friendship between the two, just amiable courtesies. Alec stayed in the back of the hall after they had entered, taking his position next to the door until the king would arrive. The hall had already filled with countless members of nobility, and he could see his lady mother on the dais on the other side of the large hall. It hadn't taken them long to retrieve Meliorn from the harbour, and the transformation the hall had undergone in preparation for supper in such a short period of time was simply astounding.

"That looks like it could become a problem," a low voice said next to him. Alec looked to the side to see a man he knew very well; Ser Lucian Garroway, otherwise known as the Greymarked, a title he acquired after being wounded terribly in an attempt to combat the wolfmen roaming the mountainsides. It was rumoured the severe injury had caused him to become a wolfman himself, but if such talk was true, Alec did not know. He had never seen any proof that might suggest this was indeed the truth. Ser Garroway was the captain of the City Watch.

"Tell me about it," Alec said with a smile, accepting Luke's hand and giving him a pat on the back, the metal of his gauntlet clanking loudly against the plate of Garroway's armour.

"I heard some troubling tales about you, young friend," Luke said, eyeing Alec up and down. "But if even part of them were true, I wouldn't know anyway. I swear your armour gets more elaborate with the day."

"I could say the same about yours, although not in a praising manner," Alec responded.

Luke shrugged. "What is a good plate if it doesn't have a battle scar?" His dark grey armour was littered with dents and scratches and patches of overlapping metal where it had been mended badly. For a commander, Garroway managed to look extremely shabby.

"One that isn't brittle?" Alec offered. Luke laughed, before quickly silencing themselves. They were guards; they were supposed to blend in with the walls, and to not attract any unnecessary attention.

"But, demons?"

"Yeah, apparently they're quite venomous."

"I'm glad you healed up nicely, boy. The King's Guard needs you. Someone has to keep the fingers together." The King's Guard consisted of ten members; all of them sworn to protect the king until their deaths, and to take no property and no woman in marriage. They were otherwise referred to as the king's fingers, because they enforced his will and protected him as well as a shield and sword should. Alec was one of the most important members, and had grown to become an unofficial commander over the years he'd spent in the king's guard. While some claimed it was because of his close ties to the king, the truth was that Alec was a born leader, and people followed him easily and willingly.

When Jace entered, Alec excused himself from Garroway, and fell into step on the right side of his king.

"Evening, Alec," Jace said sombrely, before flashing him a bright smile over his shoulder. "I went out for a hunt earlier this morning. You have to see the boar I skewed, I swear, it is the biggest I have ever seen. A true monstrosity."

"Hunting without me?" Alec teased.

"It is better that way. You always get the good kills before I have even spotted anything that might potentially be alive. Going out hunting with you is very tedious, Ser show-off."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Your Grace," Alec mocked, although he was truly relieved to see Jace in a better mood. The many council meetings that had been called lately had taken a toll on Jace's mood, and he was not very pleasant to be around when his mood turned sour.

"Everything suits the Golden King, better remember that." Jace winked at him before walking up the dais and taking his seat. When he sat down, everyone else lowered himself onto their seats as well, having risen when the monarch initially entered the hall. Jace turned to address the people, raising his voice. It thundered through the Hall as he made his jests. "Good evening, everyone. It pleases me to announce that the party sent by the Seelie Isles to represent them during the festivities celebrating the new year, as well as to advise me on the council, has arrived safely. Lord Meliorn, it's a pleasure to have you in our midst again. As long as you don't steal all the ladies." A snicker went through the Hall, all of them delighted by Jace's easy mannerisms. "Now, let us dine. I'm certain you're all starving." The crowd agreed, and musicians started to play as the food was dished out.

Pleasant, respectful chatter soon filled the Hall as everyone turned to their food and their neighbours. The evening itself went fairly well, although it did have its inevitable complications. A maid accidentally served a Seelie knight venison, which was not something that was pardoned easily since the Seelies lived on a diet that excluded all animal-made produce, and another tripped and upended a jug of wine into someone's lap. Fortunately, these mistakes occurred far from the dais, and did not offend any important guests.

Alec stood beside Jace and listened to the conversations that were going on about him. Jace was talking to Meliorn, who had been invited to sit nearer to him in honour of his visit, while Isabelle looked withdrawn and didn't speak unless there was a lull in the conversation, which she was expected to fill.

"So, this council? Who sits on it?" Meliorn asked between sips of his sweetened water, which they had brought along themselves. The beverage smelt almost unpleasantly sweet, and not quite like any natural product Alec had ever encountered.

"I made certain to include such vital information in the official document that was sent for you to agree upon," Raphael stated pleasantly, but Meliorn seemed unfazed.

"So I saw. Quite a bit of scrawling, and a waste of good parchment. But I find it hard to believe words penned by someone who is, unrightfully so, renowned to be a spider. Perhaps a puppeteer would be a better term, would you not agree? A spider has plenty of uses, whereas a puppeteer has, ah, none."

"The Council is quite simple," Isabelle quickly said, breaking apart the conversation before insult could lead to injury. "It consists of Lady Maryse, the former queen regent, Hodge Starkweather in recognition for his knowledge of medicine, herbs and poisons as well as geography and history, Raphael to represent the Children of the Night.

"With them, we have Ser Lucian Garroway, the captain of the City Watch, at least one representative of the King's Guard to ensure the safety of the council, Master Fell, if he can attend, and Lord Meul from Windleston in the north, as our channel into the winter lands," Isabelle finished smoothly. Ser Garroway and Jace seemed to be immersed in intense conversation, while Master Fell had asked to be excused and was not able to attend the supper. It wasn't surprising; Master Fell was hard to get a hold of, and the arrival of Lord Meliorn was hardly an event that required his direct supervision.

Upon hearing his name, however, a most definitely intoxicated Lord Meul leant over from his place on the lower dais and engaged in conversation with Meliorn. "So, what is it you drink? I have heard rumours. Bird pee? Horse pee? A concoction of poisonous berries?"

"Would you like to try some, Lord Meul?" Meliorn offered pleasantly, his goblet in hand.

Isabelle locked her gaze with Alec's then, beckoning him over silently. He moved swiftly behind the chairs, leaning down so it would be easier for Isabelle to speak in private.

"Remind Jace that this supper is unpleasant, and it should be ended before something happens. Raphael has been sporting the most curious expression. I am not sure if that smirk ought to convey his smugness, or is just a cover to hide his sulking, but I like it not." His sister was right; Alec had noticed it himself, as well. And if time had taught him anything, it was most definitely that a smug Raphael was a very, very dangerous one.

Alec nodded and was about to straighten up when a flash of emerald caught his eye, and he immediately froze in place as his mind made the clear connection.

"Alec? Are you okay?" Isabelle whispered softly, giving his hand a little tug.

But the only thing Alec could see was the tall figure that walked around in servant's clothes; the rough beige homespun did nothing to hide who it was. He recognised the swaying of the hips, the greenness of the eyes, the keenness of the smile. He recognised how tall the person was and how graceful he moved, like the world was made just for him and the air parted to let him through. He'd always walked like there was nothing stopping him, nothing providing even the slightest bit of resistance.

When Alec could finally breathe again, he whispered a simple word, his voice hoarse as his heart fluttered erratically in his chest, his limbs alight with nervousness and the urge to run to the person in question and get him away from this place. What had possessed him? This was potentially the least safe place for him to be, and yet there he was, dressed like a simple servant, smiling graciously at the guests as he poured them wine and served them their dishes.

"Magnus."