A/N: A few really short snippets reflecting on the battle and some events afterwards.

Ethos felt almost ashamed when he thought of the day of the battle. He had failed his responsibility to protect Kellan, unable to keep him from getting hurt. Reaching out a hand to calm his horse when she grew unsettled, he pondered over the events of the day of the battle. He had not been fit to defend Kellan in the first place; another from the Queen's guard would have much more appropriate. What if something worse had happened? Shaking his head slightly, he scanned the open plains, a little dismayed. While he wished the Queen would assign someone better to watch over Kellan, it seemed she would not change her mind, and he had to obey her wishes, as unusual as they were. Someone of Kellan's blood should not even have to talk to someone like him. It was against all the rules he knew, and it made him uncomfortable. Like he was betraying something, although he wasn't sure what. Shifting, he inhaled quickly when his shoulder twinged. It still gave him pain as it healed, but he tried not to show it, keeping his expression as calm as the surface of the lakes he often watched.

The Seelie's celebrations lasted for many nights once the fighters returned, and Ethos carefully avoided them. He did not see any reason to celebrate, his mood far from triumphant or jubilant. Even once he had cleaned himself and redressed in his usual attire, he still felt as if his hands were stained with blood. The others delighted in the music and drinks and dance, and sometimes, Ethos could not feel more further removed from them. Pushing such thoughts from his head, he straightened, raising a hand to fix his hair after a slight breeze stirred it. It was wrong to be so harsh towards his own faction.

It was not his place to question them, if that was what they wanted to do.

Kellan was certainly not deaf, and he could hear the whispered rumours as he walked past.

Did you hear he had two Seelie guarding him during the battle?

I've heard he's soft on the Seelie.

He spent a long time there, maybe they converted him.

Do the other supervisors trust him?

Sighing, he bit his tongue, not wanting any confrontation. He had secrets that he could not speak aloud, and he could not blame them for questioning him. There was no excuse for why he'd been at the Seelie so long that could just brush it off.

He'd taken to working with the new recruits from the battle. They did not know him as anything other than their supervisor, and he did not need to worry about them whispering behind his back. They were confused, still learning their place at the Hunt, and he was patient with them. It was a strange mix of former Seelie and Unseelie, and he did not discriminate. All were members of the Hunt now, and all of them would be valuable members. It felt good to have helped them – to have given them a second life. He was thankful for his own second chance, so he was glad to give others the same. They could start afresh at the Hunt, without any judgement.

When he did think of the battle, he wondered how Ethos' injury was healing. He couldn't help but feel guilty about it, for if Ethos hadn't been defending him, he wouldn't have been put in such a situation. It was nothing he could have foreseen, and he hoped Ethos would not get into trouble for it. He also felt guilt over what he'd said to Aspen, and Aspen still obviously blamed him. That he had defended a Seelie over one of his own. He felt ashamed, but there was nothing he could do to fix his words. He had said it, and now it couldn't be undone. He had no idea what he would have done if he'd been pushed to act, but he knew that he didn't want either of them hurt.

He was too soft maybe, the pressure from the Hunt and the Seelie and even the Shadowhunter girl making it hard to focus. He felt as if he was being pulled in many directions at once, and he wondered whether his arms would break before he could get anywhere. No, it was better if he didn't think of the Shadowhunter girl and her sadness. The familiarity he felt was not reassuring, and he knew he had to stay far away from her. He did not need another person getting hurt because of him.

Sighing, he pulled on a pair of gloves, hoping that things would settle soon, and the feelings of shame would eventually fade. All he could do now was to show his dedication to the Hunt to stop from being questioned further.

Caspian had gone back to the battle site again, after the Seelie faerie had left. Staring at the ground, he eventually lowered himself to it, unable to help but think that everything seemed to be falling apart. He wiped some blood from his lip where it had been cut in a fight, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth helping to focus his thoughts. He was weak, allowing himself to feel such guilt over killing someone, even if it was his father. They had been enemies, and killing an enemy should not pain him so. He'd known somewhere deep down that the battle would end in one of their deaths. Which one, he hadn't been entirely sure. Yet he still couldn't make himself forget about it, memories welling up in his thoughts. It was the little things, that he couldn't help but picture.

His father helping him to craft his own weapon. The pride in his father's eyes when he'd defeated faeries much older than him. The way his father smiled – the edge of his lip curling up just slightly, which you had to really look for, to catch. The way he'd rested his hand on Caspian's shoulder, to reassure him when he'd been younger.

Gritting his teeth, he curled his fingers in the grass, the dirt getting caught in his nails. What the hell was wrong with him? They were enemies, from rival factions. He had been basically disowned. And now he was almost regretting it? He'd really learnt nothing at all. His father would have said so, if he'd been there. He would have not regretted it surely, if their positions had been reversed.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, dusting off the dirt from his hands and raising his chin, his silver eye cold.

Kin slayer.

Perhaps that was just another nickname for him.