A/N: Here's some more snippets from the past. I was going to add a third part with Finn, but I won't have time to finish writing it today, so I'll just post the two and leave that for later. Like I said, I haven't read over them too much, so I hope they're okay!

Caspian was disorientated as he woke up, unsure of where he was. He was not in the fields of the Faerie, but instead in a strange, enclosed space. He was in the mundane world, he remembered suddenly, no longer the Unseelie.

The thought was as painful as his back, and he hid a wince, at the slow throbbing.

Becoming more aware of his surroundings, he found he was laying on something soft, and he frowned as he sat up slowly, testing it with his hand. His shirt was off, and someone had wrapped bandages instead, around his back and middle, and he recoiled at the thought of someone doing this without his knowledge and consent. He didn't want anyone to see his back.

As if the soft thing he was laying on had become dangerous, he rolled off it quickly, landing on the ground with a thud. He gasped, gritting his teeth for a moment as he waited for the pain to settle, and he dug his nails into the floor, trying to sit up. Wherever he was, he had to leave.

However, he froze when a door opened, and two beings in long, hooded robes started into the room, although they did not cast any shadows. Their faces were disfigured, with Marks drawn which mutilated their appearance, their eyes and mouths stitched shut.

All he could think was that he'd never seen such horrific looking creatures in the Unseelie or the Land Under the Hill.

We are Silent Brothers.

The voice appeared in his head, and he hissed, narrowing his eyes, as neither of them had opened their mouths to speak.

Was he really going crazy?

We are a type of Shadowhunter that has taken a different path. This is why we speak into your mind. You will get used to it.

His gazed flicked between them, and all he felt was mistrust, unsure of how to best handle such a threat. His staff was nowhere to be seen, before he remembered its fate, and he growled, trying to sit up quicker, and grasp at the walls.

Why are you on the ground? You must rest for a bit. Then you can leave, when you have recovered.

He ignored them, and the pressure in his mind increased. It was as if they were sifting through his mind, looking for information. He hated the sensation, as if millions of ants were crawling through his mind, rather than up his arm.

Pressing his hands against either side of his head, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut down his thoughts and force the intruders out of his mind. But they were strong, and memories from the Unseelie started to flicker through his mind. At his hesitation, he felt them dig deeper.

Why are you still loyal to those who hurt you? Those who cast you out?

Digging his nails into his head, he felt trapped, and he ground his teeth. There was no way he would let them find anything of use about the Unseelie. A snarl started low in his throat, before it grew, and he cried out. The Silent Brothers recoiled, as if they'd been burnt, retreating out of the room after a pause, and leaving him alone.

Panting, he leaned against the wall, staring at the door. He'd done faerie magic, he was sure, without realising. Uncontrolled magic was always dangerous, he'd been taught, but in that moment, he didn't care.

He hated Shadowhunters.

They'd never learn any information from him, even if he had to die to keep it hidden.

The thrum of battle ran through Kellan's veins, the adrenaline and Runes he'd drawn keeping him alert and ready. It was everything he'd trained for, and he would fight to protect his family and his Institute, from falling into their enemy's hands.

Dodging a mace as it swung through the air, Kellan retaliated with a quick swipe of his seraph blade. It was one thing his opponent could not yield.

The inhabitants of his Institute had to hold off the Endarkened, Nephilim whose blood had become corrupted from drinking from the Infernal Cup. They had superior strength and agility, and they bore red, with demonic runes across their bodies. However, they could no longer use seraph blades or angelic Runes.

The Dark Shadowhunter's mace toppled to the ground before he did himself, and Kellan was already turning away, ready for his next assailant. This one wielded a short sword, and Kellan pulled out his own sword to meet it, blocking a thrust quickly, his gaze sharpening. They were the hardest opponents they'd ever come across, there was no doubt, as they had all the Shadowhunter training, infused with their demonic strength.

When their swords met again, both struggling to gain the upper hand, Kellan glanced to the side quickly, freezing when he noticed his brother sustaining a cut to his arm, before his sword clattered to the ground as it was knocked from his hand. Kellan made a quick sound in anger, pushing his Endarkened opponent back, before rushing to assist his brother.

Pushing his brother out of the way, he quickly thrust at the Dark Shadowhunter, drawing their full attention to him. There was anger in his eyes, that anyone would dare to hurt his brother, and his thrusts were forceful as he pushed the Dark Shadowhunter back, quickly gaining the upper hand. They seemed to wince slightly at the light of his seraph blade, and he swiped out with it, aiming to cut through their armour, before-…

Kellan gasped, his eyes widening in pure shock as a sword pierced through his gear from behind, cutting through his middle, and out the other side. Then the pain hit him, searing through his body as he fell to the ground, gasping. The one he had been fighting before had snuck up behind him, he was sure, but it was too late to do anything now. He was vaguely aware of his father and brother yelling and cutting through the Endarkened nearby to get to him.

His hand shook as he raised it to touch his stomach, his fingers coming back red. Soon there was blood everywhere, a much darker red than his hair, and it stained his Shadowhunter gear, and the ground where he lay.

Tears hit his face as his brother knelt over him, pulling out a stele and drawing an iratze again and again on his arm. But it was useless as it faded, Kellan already too mortally wounded for it to work.

"Kellan, you idiot!" his brother cried out, his breathing frantic. "You shouldn't have tried to help me. You…You-…" His brother made a strange, strangled noise, and Kellan couldn't quite place it straight away, with his thoughts slowing. Then he realised, his brother was crying. Sobbing, even.

It struck him that it was the first time he'd heard his brother cry, now that he was older.

"It's alright," Kellan whispered, unable to raise his voice any higher, as it hurt to talk, "As long as you're safe." He swallowed, although it was hard to do so, and his lower half felt like it was searing with fire. "Go now," he tried to urge them, knowing there would be a second wave of Endarkened coming soon. This one had only been the first, and if they didn't retreat and wait for the Clave's help to arrive, they wouldn't make it. "Leave me here…"

The voices continued, although they were muffled now, and all he could make out was his name.

"Kellan!"

"Kellan-…"

"Kel…"

His eyesight was blurry, and his thinking grew strained, so he shut his eyes, trying to focus on just one thought, like a chant in his mind.

His family was safe. His family was safe. His family was safe.

ooOoo

Someone shook his shoulder, and Kellan opened his eyes, tentatively. Looking down at him was a big, broad faerie, although the strangest things were his eyes. One was a black, and the other a pale blue.

"Rise, Kellan," the faerie commanded in a rumble, reaching a hand out to him. While the name he'd called him was familiar, Kellan found he couldn't seem to remember anything else. Not how he'd gotten there, or who he was. It was a hollow, empty feeling, and he shied away from it. Reaching out a hand, he took the other faerie's hand. The faerie was strong, pulling him quickly to his feet.

Looking around, Kellan noticed bodies littering the ground, before his gaze was drawn to the clothes he was wearing, which were stained red. He pressed a hand to his stomach, where the blood seemed to be the most concentrated, although it seemed he was unwounded.

Confused, he raised his gaze to the faerie, who just beckoned him forth, and said,

"Come… It's time to join your new home."