A/N: As promised, here's a chapter! Much too early, but hopefully I can get another one out in May. :) These are all past events, with the exception of Steff's, which is a little more recent than the others.

~~Steff~~

It was hard sometimes, to escape the flashes of memories of faeries and night and blood and pain that came to her when her eyes were closed.

Her wrists ached, and she couldn't see, and it was dark; as dark as the closet back in her old Institute. She could hear the faeries' sneers, and feel the dagger pressed against her throat.

And her heart felt like it might explode because she was so worried for her friends, Rose and Connor, and if something happened to them, she didn't know what she'd do.

She'd vowed after her past to always have control of her actions and her choices and her body, and it was hard losing that control that she'd clawed so hard and for so long to get in the first place. To have it ripped from her again was like a cruel joke. But this time, it wasn't just herself who was stuck, and that thought made it more horrible than ever.

Sometimes though, it was nice to pretend it had all just been a dream. She'd wake up and brush it off, while she ran her brush through her hair. Like a book that she'd read for a little while, before finishing it and closing the cover.

It was hard though, to forget, when a glance in the mirror showed a constant reminder. She'd raise a hand and run it against the slight scar on her cheek, carefully. It was there and it was real.

She supposed a lesson once learned, was one you could never truly forget.

~~ Connor and Cadyn ~~

"Where are we going to move next?" Cadyn asked, standing up and throwing a second throwing knife at the thick door of their dorm, figuring it was good practice. It wasn't the first time they'd used it for target practice, as evidenced by the marks remaining from previous times. "Once we get out of here, I mean."

Connor watched from where he sat on the bed, contemplating his question. They hated it at the Academy, so he wasn't worried about them being told off. In fact, if they got sent away, they wouldn't mind it at all.

"We could go to any Institute," Connor replied, with a slight smile. "Like the one in Beijing or Dublin, or Paris or Tokyo or London or Rio de Janeiro or-"

He was cut off when Cadyn interrupted. "I get it, I get it. There's lots of options."

"Or there's the one in Melbourne, Australia," Connor continued, "I've heard everything there is out to kill you. Sounds like fun," he joked.

"Anywhere is fine with me besides Russia," Cadyn said, wrinkling his nose, "Or wherever our parents are planning on going." Running out of knives, he walked over to the door to pull them out again and retrieve them.

"We should travel a bit, all around the place, like usual. But sometime, we should go to New York. Now that would be something different," Connor suggested, out of the blue.

"In America?" Cadyn emphasised, giving him a funny look, "Now that's random."

"I heard Mason mention something about it," Connor shrugged, getting up and walking over to take the knives off Cadyn, wanting to have a turn. "I think the Clave have given him some job there when he finishes."

"We don't even like him though," Cadyn pointed out with a raised eyebrow, handing the knives over, and leaning against the wall.

"Well, it would be funny, don't you think?" Connor started, "We could get up to all kinds of-…"

Cadyn finished his sentence with a grin, knowing exactly what he meant, "Mischief." He nodded, thoughtfully. "Annoy him and embarrass him and all. Yes, I like the sound of that."

"Well, now that we know where we're going," Connor continued, throwing the knife and frowning as it hit the door a little lower than he wanted. Adjusting his stance, he aimed again, "We just have to graduate from this stupid place. At least it's-…"

"Not too much longer now," Cadyn agreed, with a nod of his head. "How many pranks do you think we can get away with, before we leave?" he pondered aloud, his smile widening.

Connor's smile matched his brother's, and the second knife hit the wall in the perfect position.

"A lot," they agreed, simultaneously.

~~ Caspian ~~

Today, Caspian was given a mace to fight with. Yesterday, it was a pair of chakram. The day before, a spear.

He needed to master using everything, before he could perfect just one, his father always told him. Every day it was something new, rotating through the options. He picked them up quickly – many weapons were used in a similar way, he'd learnt, and he was able to apply his skills and knowledge to different ones, once he'd gotten the hang of it. His father was often his opponent, unless he picked someone else for Caspian to train against, which he did on occasion.

Finishing up a training session, Caspian wiped his hair away from where it was stuck to his forehead, still out of breath as he sat down on a rock to rest. His father came over to sit down on a rock nearby. "You're progressing well," his father stated, a hint of pride in his voice. "I think it's time to pick your main weapon. Have you thought about it yet?"

Had he thought about it yet? He nearly laughed at the question. It was all he'd been thinking about for years. "I've decided," he replied, sitting a little straighter, the slight breeze brushing past his wings. "I know what I want. I'm ready."

"And?" his father asked, raising an eyebrow. "What have you chosen?"

"I want a staff with a blade on the end, of my own design," he answered, thinking of the naginata he'd tried one time. "I like the longer reach, and the art to mastering it."

"Interesting choice," his father nodded, looking thoughtful. "We can work on making that."

It was hard to hide his excitement as he imagined it, and he tossed the mace he'd been using down to the ground beside him. "When can we-" he started, before being cut off when his father stood, watching a horse and rider approach from across the field.

Caspian stood as well, recognising his mother and her dark bay horse easily. She'd been gone for what seemed like ages – one of her longest trips away – on her expedition of mapping out new land and territories. It was a never-ending job in the Land Under the Hill, as it was so vast that no one had ever found the end of it. It was also ever-changing, which made mapping it out so much more difficult. It was hard for him to imagine leaving the Unseelie Court – he'd never left the boundaries yet.

"Mother," he said, inclining his head in greeting, but she was distracted, looking over at his father instead.

"We should talk," she said, beckoning his father away, and Caspian was annoyed that he wasn't allowed to hear whatever it was that they were saying. Kicking a rock away with his foot, he waited impatiently for them to return.

Finally, they came back, and he stood up, so they weren't looking down on him so much. "What is it?" he asked, glancing between them.

His mother was the first to talk, her expression serious. "You know what we expect of you, Caspian. And I know you'll fulfil our wishes."

He shifted and folded his arms, his mood souring as he gathered what they were getting at. "Yes, I know what's expected."

"As long as you continue the bloodline with a suitable pure faerie girl of our choosing, you can do what you want after that. I know you're still young, but this is important. You know it took us a while," she reminded him. "You'll be passing your tests soon, and then you'll be considered an adult in the eyes of the Court. We need to start thinking about this now."

He didn't respond, although it was obvious that he'd heard, and he ran a hand through his hair, suddenly restless.

His mother exchanged a look with his father. "I had a discussion with the Floret family today on my way back, and their daughter, Tiana, could be a good candidate. She has a good, pure bloodline, and it's related to ours – her bloodline can be traced back to the archangel Camael as well, and another Greater demon. I'm not saying we've decided – there's many other options, but I'm just keeping you informed. If we decided to make arrangements with them, they would agree to it, they've told us."

Ignoring the sour taste in his mouth, he bit down on his tongue to keep from arguing. He didn't want to 'continue the bloodline,' or whatever they decided to call it. He wasn't interested in children. But it had always been expected of him, and he'd always known that, ever since he was old enough to understand. "I haven't forgotten," he said finally, turning away as he made a face. "And I haven't let the family down yet," he added, before picking up the mace and dangling it from his hand as he started away, towards the trees.

He'd done everything else they wanted.

Surely, he didn't have to dwell on such responsibilities yet.

~~ Aspen ~~

Pulling the faerie he'd just met that night closer to him, Aspen giggled, shifting on the bed, to make it more comfortable for his wings.

His older companion for the night was only a half-fae, but he was still good looking, and he'd called Aspen all kinds of nice things at the bar where they'd first talked. He'd even convinced Aspen to have just a little bit to drink, even though he knew he shouldn't. Nyx had always said he acted stupid when he had too much.

Then it hadn't taken much for the half-fae to convince him to come back to his place, and Aspen had followed obediently. It was a nice house – for one on the edge of the Towns - and he'd taken a moment to marvel at it, still used to the forest where he'd stayed with Nyx and the others not that long ago. He liked the beds too, they were much softer than the ground, and also good for… other things.

Aspen dragged his hand down the faerie's bare chest, his mouth moving to meet the stranger's.

"Mmm, you're so pretty," the fae murmured against his lips, and Aspen smiled proudly, leaning in closer for the validation, like a cat.

"Really? You think so?" Aspen beamed, letting him run his hand through his black hair, and tug on the ends.

"Of course, of course," the faerie agreed, pulling back slightly so he could run his fingers down his face. "So young and pretty. You could be a model."

"I like the sound of that. A model," Aspen pondered aloud, before flinching at the feeling of something unexpectedly touching his wing.

"And your wings are exquisite," the faerie continued, his nails sliding down them.

It wasn't a pleasant sensation, but Aspen didn't complain, biting his tongue, and hoping the stranger would continue with his praise. The nerves on his wings tingled, and he shifted slightly, before stilling when the faerie caught his wrist.

"You should-…" The faerie started, before freezing at the sound of keys at a door. He swore, and Aspen watched him quizzically, wondering what was wrong.

The faerie swore again, getting up hurriedly, and throwing his shirt back on over his head. "She's… She's home early," he said quickly, bending down to pick up Aspen's shirt and throw it over to him.

"She?" Aspen repeated, swallowing as he put his shirt back on as well, trying to get his wings through the slits.

"I can't let her see you. You gotta-…" Looking stressed, the faerie pulled Aspen up from the bed, glancing around the room. "Ahh… you can't go through the door yet or she'll see you."

Aspen's eyes went to the closet, and following his gaze, the faerie nodded, pushing him towards it. "Yeah, go hide in there. And don't make a sound. Got it?"

Aspen nodded silently, following his instructions as he opened the closet door and slipped inside. The door was promptly closed behind him, and Aspen sat down, leaning against the wall behind the clothes, and drawing his knees to his chest. It was dark in the closet, and he could only see light through the slits in the door.

"Honey, I'm back early," a female voice called from the other side of the house. "Let's have dinner."

"Okay, be right there!" His companion replied, and Aspen heard the sound of footsteps as he left.

Sighing, Aspen felt cramped in the small space, his wings pressed against the wall. It was claustrophobic for one so used to sleeping outside, and he took a few breaths to calm himself. His companion had a wife? In his naivety, he hadn't even thought to ask.

Raising a finger to his lips, he bit his nail out of habit, feeling hungry at the smell of food that wafted in. He hoped he wouldn't have to stay there in the small space all night. Surely there would be an opportunity to sneak out, or something.

Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps in the room again, although this time there were two sets. He could just see their outline through the slits and the clothes dangling in front of him – the girl had long blonde hair – and he wondered if that was more his companion's 'type,' or whether he was.

"You should have come with me. It was fun," she said, walking closer towards the closet.

"I told you, I had some work to get done," was the response, and Aspen sucked in a breath, shuffling back as far as he could as the door opened.

He held his breath, wondering whether he'd be spotted, but she didn't look down, hanging her coat up on a hanger, before closing the door again.

Relieved, he bit his nail again, listening to their boring small talk. Honestly, if this was how they talked all the time, he could see why his companion had sought out some other company.

The sound of a shower started, and Aspen jumped when the door opened again, suddenly. The faerie moved to grab his arm and pull him out, holding a finger to his lips. Following quietly through the maze of corridors, Aspen sighed in relief when they were finally outside in the crisp, night air.

Mustering up a flirtatious smile, Aspen looked over at him. "Do you want to continue some-…"

The faerie interrupted, shaking his head. "Don't come back again. I can't have you at the house. Do you understand?"

Disappointed at his hard, unrelenting tone, Aspen smoothed his rumpled hair with his fingers, his smile fading. "Okay then… Goodbye, I guess."

The faerie merely nodded in response, before shutting the door, and Aspen's eyes quickly adjusted to the dimmer lighting of the moon.

His night hadn't gone as planned, and he considered going back to another bar again to find someone else. It had been silent, much too silent and lonely in the closet on his own, and he wouldn't have minded some more company.

Starting away down the street, he glanced around at the faces he passed. He should have asked whether he was married. It was a stupid mistake.

Next time he wouldn't make the same one.