~~ Steff ~~

Heading back to her room after a long day of training, Steff pushed some hair that had fallen out of her ponytail, behind her ear. She was tired, and a quick shower and an early night was all that was on her mind. However, she paused when she noticed the door to her room was slightly ajar. Swallowing her worry, she continued onwards, pushing the door further open as she looked inside.

"… Mother?" Steff said, before starting inside cautiously. Her mother sat at her desk, her fingers brushing over the books resting there. At Steff's voice, she looked back at her with a slight smile.

Closing the door behind her, Steff resisted the urge to sigh, walking over to place some of her training gear on her bed. She didn't know if she had the energy for a confrontation of this kind.

"So this is where you've been living," her mother said, her eyes scanning the room. "It's been a long time since we've seen you."

Steff merely nodded, glancing over at her subtly. She looked just as she'd always remembered her. Young and beautiful, her eyes and stature similar to Steff's own. "Why did you come here?" she asked, finally sitting down on her bed.

"I'm worried about you. Your father isn't happy about Loki, you know," her mother replied, tucking some hair behind her ear. "In fact, he's very distressed. He's just very good at hiding it. If… if you had anything to do with his death, you should just tell us. We just want to know what happened, so we can put him to rest."

Steff's eyes flickered, her thoughts conflicted. When she'd been younger, she hadn't known what word to use to describe her mother, but now she did. Naïve. Easy to control. Her mother was much younger than her father, being his second wife, and she wondered whether she'd been attracted to his money or name, or if perhaps it had been his words and promises. Either way, she was by his side at every party and event, the perfect mindless decoration for his arm.

"Is that you talking?" she asked finally, raising her chin. "Or father? Did he tell you to say that?"

Her mother avoided her eyes, and she felt her heart sink. "Would you really want me to go to trial?" she asked, standing up and pacing from side to side. "Would you really want to see your only daughter in the Silent City, or worse? Is that what you'd want for me?" There was a lump in her throat, and she blinked quickly, telling herself she wouldn't cry. She couldn't.

"If you've done something, then there's nothing we can-"

"I haven't done anything!" Steff exclaimed, her voice raising slightly. "Except what you've both told me to do for so many years." Biting her lip hard, she could suddenly taste blood, and she licked it away quickly. "I'm sorry it was Loki who died," she stated, bitterly. "And not me. If only because you'd both be happier if it was me."

"Stephanie-" her mother protested, reaching out to her, but she pulled away.

"Just go," she said, turning away, so she couldn't see her expression. "I'm sorry you don't have better news to tell him, but I don't have anything to admit to. He was drunk, just like they say." The lies and the things that she kept quiet were like cuts to her chest, and it was hard to keep her breathing steady. If her mother didn't leave, she didn't know how much longer she'd be able to keep it together.

"I'm sorry too, Stephanie," her mother replied, after a pause, her tone melancholy. "That I wasn't a better-"

Shaking her head to interrupt her, she brushed away a tear, glad she couldn't see. "Please," she whispered. "Just go."

She listened to the footsteps as her mother finally left, before sinking down onto her bed, her eyes staring vacantly at the mirror visible on the bathroom wall.

Sometimes she didn't know if she recognised herself anymore.

~~ Caspian and Sol ~~

Talking to a faerie about filling in for a patrol, Caspian strained to try and exercise patience. It wasn't something he was good at – neither was he good at listening to excuses. However, when he noticed a familiar figure striding towards him, he narrowed his eyes, sending the faerie off, to continue the conversation later.

The green at the ends of Sol's hair was bright when the light shone on it, and his expression settled into one of smug satisfaction. Coming to a stop, he folded his arms, watching Caspian closely, always ready to gloat or wait for him to slip up. "How are the patrols coming along?" he asked, his tone annoyingly pleasant, as if merely discussing the weather.

"Fine," Caspian ground out, his fingers tense around his staff. "I don't need you checking up on me."

"Don't you?" Sol replied, as if doubtful. "I wanted to make sure you weren't too upset," he started, a confident grin growing. "About what happened to your… friend. Or should I say lover?" he asked, rhetorically.

Caspian tensed, and he itched to move forward and run his blade through him. No, he deserved a much slower death than that. However, there was too much to risk, so he stood his ground, struggling to control his anger. "I'm fine," he growled. "None of it is any of your business and you should watch your mouth."

"Oh, I've hit a nerve? I must apologise," Sol responded, in a fae-like manner. "It was a shame though, that you weren't there. It was fun, but seeing your expression would have made it twice as fun."

Seething inwardly, he took a step forward, grabbing his cloak in his free hand. "I swear, if you so much as touch him again-"

"You'll what?" Sol smiled. "You'll kill me? I'm afraid that's not something the Hunt would look very kindly on. Especially when I'm a supervisor. Besides," he continued, pushing his hand away, and brushing off his cloak, as if he'd dirtied it. "I think you'd encounter a lot of difficulty, trying to do such a thing." He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "You've let your weakness slip, dear Caspian, and weaknesses can be exploited."

Gritting his teeth, he curled his fingers into his palm, trying to stop himself from doing anything rash. That was likely exactly what Sol wanted. Instead, he spat on the ground, before glaring at him. "You heard me. If you want to mess with me, then you mess with me. Not him."

He took a step back, and straightened, although his eyes never left Sol's. "You didn't break him, and you never will. You can hurt us all you want – you can even cut me to pieces – but you'll never break us," he said in a low tone, before turning away. "Either of us."

"Nice to know," Sol laughed, watching as he walked off. "Nice to know, indeed."

~~ Kellan ~~

There were many celebrations happening at the Seelie Court that day, and Kellan tried to catch glimpses of them, as he headed to meet with the Queen. He had no idea what they were celebrating with their dancing and their music and their faerie drinks, but it seemed there was always laughter and fun to be had at the Seelie. However, he had to keep up with the guard leading him, and he sighed as he continued on, having already memorised most of the way.

When the guard left him at the Queen's audience chamber and he had to wait again, Kellan couldn't help but look around, running his hand along the trunk of an old Faerie tree absentmindedly, before bending down to admire some colourful flowers.

The swish of a dress was all that alerted him to the Queen's presence, and he straightened quickly, before inclining his head and lowering his gaze in respect.

"Kellan," she smiled, gesturing for him to raise his head. "How nice to see you again."

As usual, she wore an intricate golden circlet on her head, as a crown, and that day her dress looked like it was made of leaves, the green of them woven with gold veins. In fact, the leaves and the branches encircled her arms, spiralling up them, as if trying to grow and reach for the sun. She always looked beautiful, but the expression in her eyes was what changed the most, if you knew how to read it, behind the mask.

"It is a pleasure to see you as well," he replied politely, hoping his words were enough to make up for his lack of knowledge of the fae customs and pleasantries.

Drawing closer, she circled him, approval in her eyes. "Ah, that ivory suits you, and it is nice to see your hair a little neater. I see my diplomat did a good job."

Kellan glanced down at his ivory cloak, with a black trim that Ethos had given him. His red curls had been pinned back from his face as well, and he was unsurprised that she had pointed it out. "That's nice of you to say," he replied, watching her carefully. "Although I do wonder whether it was Ethos's idea, or perhaps your own."

There was amusement in her eyes, and she avoided the question, gesturing to the flowers he had been studying earlier. "The Seelie is beautiful, don't you think?"

"It is," he couldn't help but agree, "But I do not think you brought me here to discuss the beauty of your home, or my appearance."

He had tried many times to pry answers out of her, but the Queen would not be rushed. They had had some pleasant outings and talks so far, but the reason for his visit was still a frustrating mystery. Perhaps it was easy for someone so immortal to wait and draw things out, but it was not the same for him, and he was often anxious about the Hunt, not knowing what was happening there. However, he didn't want to be the cause of any conflict, so he was careful to watch his words, and to be polite about it.

The Queen inclined her head, before beckoning him to follow her towards a golden bowl filled with water, upon a stone plinth. He stopped a few steps away, a little hesitant, although he could just see their reflections resting on the surface.

"This is called a scrying glass. Come closer, there are things for you to see," she said, her voice soft and persuasive as she turned to watch him.

"I don't know if I should," Kellan replied cautiously, not wanting to be caught up in her games.

"I only wish to show you things that concern yourself," the Queen replied, her eyes alight in interest, although she tried to hide it. "And if you participate in the things I ask, I will ensure peace between our factions. More than that, you may have any supplies you need for the Hunt. Do you need more horses? You may take the best of the Seelie horses, when you leave."

When you leave. He was tempted to ask when that may be, but he knew she would avoid the question, like usual. Her offers were equally tempting, and more than anything he wanted peace for the Hunt. Moving forward, he gazed into the water, giving a quick nod, before he watched as his reflection disappeared, and a new image emerged.

There was a Shadowhunter man with messy brown hair, and kind eyes, tending to an aviary of birds. The image changed, and there was a boy not much younger than him with the same hazel eyes, teaching a younger girl with brown pigtails how to draw a Rune. More and more images surfaced, and he watched them half in enchantment, and half in a strange kind of horror.

"Who are these people?" he whispered, staring at the water, as if he couldn't bear to look away.

"You don't know?" the Queen laughed, and he could tell she was studying his expression. "You always cared for your family, didn't you? You swore an oath that you'd protect them."

The words stirred something in his chest, but he backed away quickly, his eyes conflicted and lost. "I-… I don't remember anything about that."

The Queen didn't move, although the images faded, the water returning to the usual reflective surface. "Oh, but you did. And I think deep down you do know."

"I have a different family now," he swallowed, his breaths short and sharp. "I'm not here for your entertainment." Narrowing he eyes slightly, he stared at her, a sudden thought coming to mind. "These are the people from my dreams. Did you make me have those dreams?"

Her teeth glistened, and he looked away quickly, images still pressing against his eyes. "Oh Kellan, I know it's not easy, remembering things. But I'm only trying to help."

"I-… I don't need your help. And I don't need to remember," he said, backing away further, as if scared of what he might be shown next. "Please just-…"

Interrupting, the Queen beckoned one of her guards. "Of course Kellan, you must be tired. My guard will escort you back."

All the fae courtesies and thankyous escaped his mind as he hurried away, finding it hard to gather his thoughts. He wasn't sure if he wanted to remember a past life, not when he would now be separated from it forever.

Pulling on one of his curls, he used the sharp sensation to ground him. "She's just trying to get in my head," he murmured under his breath, staring ahead in the direction of the grotto. "I need to keep it together."