A/N: Here's another one! I wrote Savannah's part late tonight and I'm super tired, so hope it's not too bad…

~~ Kellan ~~

Sitting at his vanity table, Kellan listened to his stylist, Liza, as she spoke while she ran a comb through his unruly hair, trying to tame it. She was one of many stylists that he had – apparently it wasn't a one-person job, although he gathered that she was one of the younger ones, from how she spoke and acted. He supposed that it made sense having more than one if they had to craft everything by hand. Still, it was a far cry from his life before, especially in the Hunt, where he would always wear the same cloak and rotate a small number of clothes. Fashion had never exactly been something on his mind. Now though, he had a whole Court to impress and new outfits for every event.

"You and Tif looked absolutely stunning the other night," she commented with a satisfied sigh, drawing his thoughts back to the other night. "You make a lovely couple." She started to add some pins to his hair, fixing some of the curls. She was both quick and skilled at the job. "I trust that you enjoyed the event?"

"Thank you, I should give Tif most of the credit for that," he smiled. "And I certainly did enjoy it," Kellan agreed easily, since he had, after all. He could have stayed there for longer even, but he wasn't upset at leaving, considering the other surprises that had been in store for him. He still had to thank Tif again for that.

Grace's letter was safely kept in the drawer of his wooden bedside table, hidden towards the back. He wondered who had read it – as Tif had implied it had been read – and whether the Queen herself had read it. Most of all, he was proud of his siblings and what they'd achieved. An update on their lives was more than he ever imagined getting to receive.

"You've been the talk of the Court for days," Liza informed him, enthusiasm hinted at in her voice. "Everyone was so happy to see you. Many either got to talk with you personally, or have a good view of your dance."

"Have I?" Kellan replied, with a quick smile. "I didn't realise. In any case, I'm sure my stylists would have had a mention too, considering how successful my outfit was."

"We might have," she admitted, looking proud at his words. "Thank you for your kind words."

"Anytime. I wouldn't look half as good without your input," he said in praise, wanting her to know that he appreciated her – and all of their - efforts.

She smiled and continued to chat away about upcoming events and some of his outfits. Admittedly, his thoughts started to wander as he glanced in the mirror and saw his bed. He couldn't help but think of his conversations with Ethos that night when they'd sat on the edge together. His cheeks warmed in a subtle blush as he remembered Ethos's words. It had been good to talk on such indelicate matters – as Ethos had put it - finding it helped with his uncertainty. He understood a bit more of Ethos's discomfort now, and he resolved to make sure to keep his words in mind. Self-control was certainly something that he was getting plenty of practice at. But when he thought of the rest of what Ethos had said, he blushed every time. How could he not? If only Ethos knew how much time he spent occupying his thoughts. Kellan had certainly been particularly distracted as of late, after seeing him.

His stylist cleared her throat, and he met her gaze in the mirror, realising he must have missed something that she'd said. "Sorry?" he said, quickly coming back to reality.

"I've finished your hair," she said, getting a mirror to be able to show him the back. "Do you like it?"

"It's good, thank you," he said, only giving it a quick glance. He had never cared too much about such things. Whether Ethos would prefer to see him when he was properly made up, was something that he had pondered over occasionally, before he'd asked him more recently.

"We've got a few outfits lined up for the next events. And for seeing the Queen too," she said, moving over to his wardrobe to pull some out to show him. They were likely made of the finest materials, finding the colours often had a similar theme. There was always a long enough sleeve involved to hide the burn mark on his arm, as well. It was a shame really, that such lavish things were wasted on him, when others would probably appreciate them more.

"What do you think of these?" she pressed, eagerly.

"They all look good," he assured her, meeting her gaze with an easy smile. "I will leave it up to my stylists – I have faith in your abilities, after all."

This time, he tried to focus on the rest she was saying and to not get distracted.

Still, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder how soon was too soon to summon Ethos again.

~~ Savannah ~~

It had been hard to know the right timing to break up with her fiancée. There was little benefit to her ties with him currently, as she had not been able to progress in her position further. Plus he was clingy and pushed to see her all the time, which was quite frankly an annoyance.

But the engagement had gone on for long enough, and she was sick of the questions about the wedding that she was not going to have. She'd chosen a day she'd been in Alicante for business, knowing she could hang back afterwards. While going to his family's place in Alicante wasn't ideal, he had insisted she stay the night, and she supposed some privacy would be good, anyway.

He was quick to usher her up to his room when she arrived, chatting about his day, and he gave a laugh as he tugged her into his room by her hand. He had a boyish room with everything he could want. It was hardly his fault, but he'd been handed everything on a platter, whereas she took pride in the fact that she had worked hard for her achievements. One had to earn their place in her family.

Shutting the door behind them, she exhaled slowly. Breaking up with someone was regrettable, but it had to be done. It was a natural part of life, after all.

However, he spoke up first, taking both of her hands in his. "I know you've said we're too busy, so we need to keep postponing it, but let's just get married," Jesse urged, his eyes alight. "There's nothing stopping us, really. And we can keep it small if you're worried about the time it takes to prepare for it. Or-… or we could just elope." He must have seen something in her expression – or perhaps it was the way she withdrew her hands from his calmly, and he frowned. "What is it?"

She sighed, looking straight into his blue puppy dog eyes. "We need to break off the engagement. You've been a good boyfriend, Jesse. But this just isn't working anymore."

"What do you mean it isn't working?" he protested, confusion and shock in his voice. "We-… we work well together, don't we? Everything was working out. You never said anything was wrong."

"This isn't working for me," she stated, lifting her chin slightly. If he thought he could change her mind, then he was sorely mistaken. "I've enjoyed our time together, but I'm not ready to get married. I've come to realise that lately. My work is my focus – you've always known that."

He stared at her, not quite comprehending. "But I love you, Savannah. I've loved you since the first time I saw you."

The words didn't sound the same coming out of his mouth. She still remembered the time Blake had said he was falling in love with her. As if it was some disappointment, to himself. The way he'd retreated afterwards, as if he couldn't face her reaction. It had been different to all of the others, and somehow it had meant more than all of the others combined.

She sighed inwardly as she contemplated what to reply with. Why could they never easily accept her words and move on? It was not like she'd given him nothing. She'd given him her time, her attention and her body. Couldn't that be enough for him? "This is for the best," was all she said, watching the panicked look in his gaze, his eyes shiny. Please don't tell her he was going to cry.

"Don't you love me too?" he said, a hint of shakiness to his voice. "I… don't understand."

Maybe she had said it back a few times to appease him. It had been what he'd wanted to hear after all, even if she hadn't really meant it. What would she know of the word, anyway? Most seemed to say it way too early when they barely knew her – all that they knew was what she allowed them to see. As if they could envisage spending their lives with her. What a shallow thing, and how ignorant to think they knew her well enough to tell. "There is no point in drawing this out for longer than we need to. I'd like to stay friends with you, Jesse, but that depends on you."

"Is there someone else?" he demanded. It was hard to tell if he was even listening to her words. "That Shadowhunter you hate from New York implied as much."

It was Isaac, she assumed. How annoying that he thought he could mess around in her business. She narrowed her eyes slightly. Perhaps she would have to pay him another visit. "I never said there was someone else." Why was it that her thoughts went to Blake so quickly? "I just need some time to myself," she lied.

"After everything, I don't know how you could just act like we're nothing. You were really something to me, Savannah," he said, the hurt obvious in both his voice and his expression. "Maybe this is just the stress talking. Maybe you just need a good sleep and-…"

Her temper was starting to flare. "Don't tell me what I need," she retorted, a flash in her eyes. "This is not convenient for me anymore. This is ending, Jesse, whether you like it or not."

She could tell by the look on his face that she'd gone too far, unable to reel it in quickly enough, and she swore inwardly. She'd have to fix it later, when he wasn't so… emotional about it. "I'm sorry. I hope you can see this is for the best, eventually." She turned away, relieved when he didn't try to stop her. Walking over to the side table, she slipped the ring off her finger, resting it on the table, before heading to the door. It had never suited her anyway, finding it more annoying than anything else.

"Goodbye Jesse," she said, avoiding looking back at him as she slipped out. She supposed he'd handled it like she'd expected. Better than some, even if he was obviously hurt. Mostly, it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, a little tired of pretending to be engaged for so long.

~~ Alinta and Lex ~~

Sometimes Alinta's dreams were bloody and gruesome, the remnants of seeing and being involved in too much death. She'd seen plenty of throats slit, blood staining her clothes until they were no longer wearable. Smelled the metallic scent, and tasted it, even. She had been the judge, jury and executioner all in one. She'd been backed into the corner of the cage, until all she had left was to fight and to claw her way out. She both hated it, and couldn't escape it, all at once.

Maybe she deserved such dreams and such sleepless nights. It was her penance perhaps, for all her wrongdoing. Still, she wondered if she would be held accountable by the angels for all the things that she'd had no control over.

Lying awake in bed grew strangely taxing, so she got to her feet, her footsteps silent against the floorboards. Lynx looked up at her, from where he lazed around on the end of her bed, however he didn't seem inclined to get up, so she didn't disturb him.

Somehow, she had a feeling that Lex might still be around, as if she could sense him. Quietly, she slipped out of her room, and down the hallway. If he was up, then he would likely be on the balcony. She was right, finding him leaning against the railing, his cane propped beside him. He often looked deep in thought, as if pondering and worrying over all the unknown variables of the world. It was more likely that he was musing over how to keep them all alive, however.

She had never felt so seen and so free as she did with Lex and his group. Never before had she been allowed a say in what missions she didn't want to undertake, or to what ones her skills would be most suited towards. Lex understood her in a way that no one else had before.

Reaching the sliding door, she placed her hand on it, opening it. Lex was quick to grab for his cane at the sudden noise in a cautious instinct, although he relaxed when he looked back and saw it was her. She could feel his gaze linger on her. With anyone else, she might have felt self-conscious, but not with him. Sliding the door closed behind her, she then stepped out, joining him at the railing.

She gave a subtle shiver at the breeze – all she wore was a pink silk nightgown that she'd been given all those years ago when she'd first come to the tavern. It was likely someone else's that had been lent to her, but she didn't care to spend much on clothes that mostly wouldn't even be seen. Still, it was unusual to see herself in such a delicate and impractical thing, and such a girly colour – a sharp contrast to the garb she normally wore for missions. This dress hugged her figure – not that she had many curves, always on the slender and lean side, as if she had never quite gained enough weight back, after her time in captivity. Her hair helped too in warding off the breeze, falling down her back in a thick curtain, now that it was untied.

They were both quiet for a long moment – neither of them felt the need to speak, the silence between them comfortable enough.

"I thought you might be here," she commented, finally. He'd been spending more and more time staying overnight at the tavern, even if he had his own place. Often, he was up late doing work, and perhaps he liked the familiarity. But if she told him that she could strangely sense him there, he'd likely have a hard time believing it.

"I see you can't sleep either," he said, his gaze shifting from her back to the lights in the Towns. "Is it the dreams, again?"

She nodded, knowing that they both suffered from nightmares. Although what Lex's were about, he had never shared.

He was quiet again for a long moment. "I'm sorry for getting angry with you today," he sighed. She glanced at him sidelong in a hidden surprise – it was rare for him to apologise for anything. "I just-…" He made a sound of frustration. "I don't like not having control over it. I can't guarantee your safety."

He was hard on himself, the way he tried to put everything on his own shoulders, when it was not only his burden to bear. "It's okay," she replied softly. She didn't need to speak louder – he could hear her just fine with his werewolf senses. "I understand. But you can't… control every variable."

"I can try," he refuted, before giving a slight sigh at the look she gave him. If Cyrus was here, she was sure he would have some things to say on the matter. "I just don't like it. The thought of you getting mixed up with the Unseelie again."

"I'll be okay," she said, keeping some confidence to her voice. It was what he needed to hear. "You know my abilities and I have the element of surprise. I will not fail you. I never do."

"I know," he said simply, leaning against the railing again. She could read his body language, as if it was her own. He was worried, although he didn't want to show it. "What-…." His words trailed off as if he'd reconsidered asking the question, and she frowned.

"What were you going to ask?" she questioned, tilting her head to the side slightly.

He glanced at her briefly, before speaking again. "What did that Unseelie faerie do to you?"

She pondered over the question in silence. Lex did not always ask her directly about her past – often he left it up to her as to when she wanted to share small bits and pieces, when she was ready. So his question was out of the ordinary. He must have really been thinking about it.

She wanted to share it with him, but sometimes she just didn't know how. The words often failed her, finding it hard to look back, and some memories from her past were also tangled up with guilt or embarrassment.

"…Lots of things," she swallowed. "It won't make you feel any better to know all of them."

"Tell me," he said, finally turning to her, and she was surprised by his words. "… Please."

She considered for a long moment, knowing she couldn't possibly manage to put it all into words. But she could attempt some, she supposed. "He taunted me. Teased me. Punished me – whether that be by leaving me out in the cold, or getting someone to beat me up. He threatened things. He didn't get around to doing them all." Her fingers fiddled with her hair. Every hardship that she had endured at the Unseelie had made her stronger. "Maybe I could outrun him, but I couldn't outrun all of them." Her words were slow and hesitant. "But I survived it. It is… not the worst I have endured."

His grip tightened on the railing, his knuckles turning white. His brown eyes were dark and murky, the sharp features to his face even more pronounced in his anger. She observed in a subtle fascination. It was strange, seeing such concern from him. She did not know why some people found him frightening, when she had always found him anything but that.

"He deserves to die," Lex announced, a finality to his words. His statement did not surprise her – she knew of his appetite and preference for revenge. "For what he's done. It'll be a better place without scum like him." There was heavy derision in his voice, able to tell clearly what he thought of him. Their eyes locked in a shared understanding, and his gaze softened slightly. "I promise you this – you will never be treated that way again." She froze at his latter words. When people said Lex didn't have a heart, all she could think what that they didn't know him like she did.

"… I know," she replied softly, nodding a couple of times. "He will get what he deserves. Some of it, anyway."

Lex exhaled, finally loosening his grip on the railing. "I still don't think that you should do this alone. But I know that I can't stop you. I will just have to trust in you."

"You can trust in me. Always," she murmured. She wished that he would take her up on her offer and all that she meant by it. Instead, he shouldered everything himself, keeping secrets even from her. Still, she could understand. Trusting had never come easily to her either, after her past. Most would likely think her a fool for ever trusting anyone again. But Lex was not just anyone. "Will you… tell me of your nightmares?"

Just like that, he closed up, seemingly far away. She tried not to push him normally, but she had shared far more than usual that evening. The dreams were about his brother, she was sure. But while she knew he had died, she still didn't know the exact circumstances. "Are they about your brother?" she pressed.

"Of course they're about him," he snapped, although it was wearily. "He's dead, Alinta. He's dead and I couldn't save him."

"You can't blame yourself," she started. Cautiously, as if not to make him withdraw further. "You can't keep carrying all that guilt-…" On instinct, she reached out towards his arm, to offer some kind of reassurance perhaps, or to draw him closer.

He recoiled away a second later, as if he'd been burned, quickly pulling his arm away. "Don't-… touch me."

Alinta was quick to pull away as well, doused with guilt. She knew he didn't like to be touched, so why had she done it? There was an ache in her chest. She wanted it, that was why. She had always wanted to be closer to him, as impossible as that was. "S-… Sorry," she stammered, curling her nails into her palms.

He cleared his throat, picking up his cane as if pretending that nothing had happened. "Goodnight, Alinta," he said, avoiding her gaze as he started back inside, leaving her out there alone.

It felt colder than ever as she listened to his footsteps retreat.