#“men should stay away from anya-” maybe you should just stay away from people in general

[djsherriff-responses]

I think saying a child who was conceived through rape is inherently as evil as their rapist father and general dehumanising of people unfortunate to be born in that situation is worse than men finding Anya attractive or AUs where she happily decides to be a mother actually

[jams-sims]

Curly victimhood and how 2 things can be true.

Curly was a good Captian, a good friend BUT he was also willing to hide Jimmy wrong doing, Failed Anya by not taking action sooner and in general relying to heavily on the "we are friends we understand one another." The thing about Curly is nothing that he says, he's going to do, when we play as him. Ever comes to fruition, we never make it to Earth, we never make it to the drop off point. His sin or inactions stay on the ship and in a way, him getting hurt like he did is his punishment for his sin. He is as much of a victim of Jimmy as others on the ship.

The rose colored glasses are torn away when Curly is put in a position of helplessness. When he loses the status of friend and becomes someone Jimmy had already disliked into someone below Jimmy. The 5 people in this fandom have already mentioned it, Curly can be a allegory for the mistreatment of people who are disabled, rape connecting to Anya and helplessnes.

But what i think the real connection is, is that Curly represents those real friendships where you have a close bond with someone who does something horrible. I think it also represents, how some men will just stay friends with a horrible people. Even though they know that person is horrible.

In Curly case he made a few statment that showed he was willing to work things out. He would "Take Responsibility." Could it be he was simply trying to keep everything together by pacifying both Jimmy and Anya. They are on a ship that still had 200+ days left to go. Yes. But we'll never know the full scope of Curly character because we only ever get his view in flash back or from Jimmys warped perspective.

Edit:

I forgot the gun scene- it is the foundation of two things can be true. Curly can talk to Anya on day 0 when Curly looks for the gun. Its not explain why hes looking for it. But when you talk to Anya, Curly assumes she is going to hurt herself. He tells Anya that they can work this out, and that he would have done ANYTHING for her.

Anya calls him out saying "I know you wouldn't have given me the gun to protect myself but atleast he doesnt have it." Which just puts Curly firmly in the middle. He wants to hold on to his friendship with jimmy, while also trying to "Take Responsibility". Its adds another level of tragedy and why he starts laughing when Jimmy finds the gun. It was staring him in the face the whole time. An maybe he should have given Anya the gun to protect herself.

[yesimwriting]

Searing Starlight (chapter one)

SERIES SUMMARY: the most powerful inferni alive, raised to see herself as a god-in-the-making, the bastard of the barrel and his team, and a shadow summoner with a common goal. What could go wrong? The giant mass of darkness known as the shadow fold and y/n’s sense of humor. 

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Y/n is sent to hustle the Crow Club. Technically it’s not cheating, but Kaz Brekker isn’t the type to let people off on technicalities alone. Especially when the one that committed the offense could help him earn 1 million kruge. 

a/n just a little something based on the show bc IM OBSESSED :)) --I’m planning on making this a series so if you want to be tagged let me know :)

The candles flicker as Kenya's palm makes contact with my face. I used to cry after he hit me; I used to run to Anya’s room for comfort and my energy would became so irritated I snuffed out all the candles in the church. Now, I just stand there. You get punished worse for showing fear. Gods fear nothing, and that’s what he wants from us--to turn into Gods so that the heavens will owe him. 

“You risk us again and again!” 

The yelling is worse than the stinging of the slap. I make a point of keeping my palms flat; the candles of the room flicker as if feeling my restraint. “Watch yourself or the tidemaker you’re so fond of will feel my wrath instead of you. At least when I bruise his face it doesn’t cost me a night of revenue.” 

I want to point out that the men I trick in the pleasure district don’t care about bruises, but the reminder of Jace has me frozen in place. Jace is good. He doesn’t deserve this treatment. “It won’t happen again, Father Kenya.” 

He nods once, unsatisfied but growing bored. “Disappear from my sight before my flesh wins and I forget to show you mercy.” Kenya turns sharply, watching Anya’s stoic expression. “Anya--we’re in need of funding, take these coins and triple it by morning.” 

Anya’s lips part; I shake my head once, a subtle plea for her silence. “Father Kenya, y/n’s the most talented card player we have--if she comes with us we can bring five times what you’re going to give us.” 

The promise Anya makes is that of a fool, but I know I’m capable of it. People are easy to read when they’re drunk, they’re easy to trick and lie to. And drunk people exude the clearest energy, something about their bluffing is as tangible as fog to me. 

Kenya squeezes the drawstring bag between his violent fingers. He loathes me more than the others. He expects more from me. He’d lock me in the cellar if he could afford to. But he can’t--he knows what I’m capable of. 

“Go somewhere in the Barrel--somewhere that doesn’t ask questions if the money is good.” Kenya looks at me, the bruises on my arms and cheeks. “Clean yourself up beforehand.” 

I nod once, stomach rolling at the thought of going out and knotting at the thought of staying here. I keep my steps even as I approach Anya, grateful for the excuse to disappear behind the chapel’s doors. 

----

This club is louder than most, boisterous men drinking constantly, slurring their words and leaning over bars. I only smile when someone’s looking, tugging on the dress Anya picked for me subconsciously. 

“Relax, y/n,” Anya hums, “Men don’t understand they’re being hustled when someone pretty is the one swindling them, and you look hot.” 

A particularly drunk man walks by slowly, eyes reflecting no shame as he blatantly rakes his gaze down my form. I shift uneasily. “That might be the problem.” 

She tilts her head back, gaze focusing on the crow marking etched into the back wall of the club. A very strange and consistent crow theme in here. “Maybe you should keep the dress on until you run into Jace.” 

The mention of Jace in that context leaves my face warm. “Wha--what?” Great. I’m sputtering. “Shut up!” 

She laughs easily, “I’m only teasing--he’d probably ta--” 

“Anya!” 

Again, her laugh is loud and bright. “Kidding!” Before I can scorch her, she nods her head towards a gambling table. “An open seat--go, you know Kenya’ll have our heads if we don’t multiply this,” she tosses me the drawstring bag, I catch it awkwardly, “By five.” 

There are a lot of things I’ve ruined--but I never mess up when it comes to gambling. We’re all entitled to our talents and mine are destruction and trickery. “I’ll have six times this amount before midnight.” 

A little cocky, but it’s well deserved. I stroll up to the table easily, comforted by the fact that Anya’s only a few feet away. 

“You’re playing this round?” 

I smile politely, used to this kind of hesitance. “I think I’d like to try it.” The mock-hesitance in my voice burns coming up, but the dumber I seem the faster I make up my money. The rest of the participants snicker. Expected. I’m going to enjoy taking their money. “I can pay if that’s the issue.”

The sound of me fishing through the small bag of golden coins silences the men at a table. The man closest to me, the one with smooth brown skin and a smile I imagine has convinced many people to play into sins for him, leans forward slightly. I let him peek at the coins, the more they want my money the more they’ll believe my lies. 

“How much to enter?” 

A tall man snorts. I fight back the urge to glare. 

“Three of those coins should do.” The boy next to me is decent enough to answer. I’ll steal from him least. “I’m Jesper.” 

I’ve been to enough clubs to know when a man is attempting to find company for the night. I hope the playful niceness I see in him is real. “Kamil.” My sister’s name is salt water on my tongue. 

The first game is easy enough to throw. The second, I have to work at a little more--their smugness is killing me. I pretend to be ready to step away from the table.

“Where are you going?” 

I shrug at the stranger. “I shouldn’t lose any more money, my father won’t be happy with me as it is.” 

The stranger leans forward, glancing at his chips. “We don’t want a girl like you in trouble at home--why don’t we up the stakes? You win this next hand, and you’ll win double what I did.” He pauses, eyeing my drawstring bag, “Of course--you’ll have to be willing to risk a matching sum.” 

Awful odds. “Deep odds,” Jesper mumbles, “Consider cutting your losses.”

Jesper is a better person than the other men here. I almost feel bad he’s going to be losing any money. “One more game won’t kill me,” I smile as politely as I can manage, “Besides--my luck could be about to change and I’d never know.” 

I hand the coins over to the dealer. I watch as the money is shuffled onto the center of the table, suppressing the grin of someone about to release her killshot. Ten minutes later, I’ve doubled what I’ve lost. The man who upped the bet is gaping, Jesper’s expression has shifted entirely, and everyone’s staring at me like I’ve shifted into another person entirely. 

“Wow--luck really does change quickly here.” I’ve hooked them. They’ll want to play again, to prove that my victory was a fluke. “Do you guys want to play again? It only seems fair I give you a chance to win back everything you just lost since you did the same for me.” 

Everyone’s quick to agree, but I’m quicker to win the second round. Some men look murderous, some look ready to play again, their egos incapable of handling defeat at my hands. 

“You came in with a surprising amount of coins,” Jesper muses, reaching over to pick up a piece of gold that rolled towards him, “I hate to accuse you of counterfeiting, but one has to wonder.” 

Typical. “I swear my money’s real.” 

“Real money can take a bullet…” Is he going to shoot it...in doors? Jesper tosses the coin easily, letting it flip in the air before taking out a pistol and shooting it dead center in a movement so casually fluid and deadly I’m taken back. 

The coin clatters onto the table, the bullet embedded into the precious metal. I eye it cautiously, beyond relieved that Kenya at least doesn’t lie. “T-told you.” 

His eyebrows narrow as he reholsters his pistol. “About that, I guess you did.” 

Jesper’s skepticism is a red flag. I need to get out of here before my winnings are taken from me and Kenya kills me or Jace for my failure. “I didn’t take you for such a sore loser.” 

Before Jesper can respond, something black raps against the table once. “What did I tell you about loud noises at the table?” 

Jesper’s gaze leaves mine immediately. “Sorry boss, just checking a swindler.” 

He--he knows. I blink twice, forcing surprise to color my features. “Swindler?” I look between him and the man he called his boss. “N--no, it was just--luck. I played a hand, I lost some money, I played again and I won some money. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?” 

“You only started winning after the stakes were raised--I’ve seen that tactic before and it’s not appreciated here.” 

I swallow once, a pinch of dread making its way through my stomach. He had shot that coin with no hesitation--I didn’t even see him click off the safety. How dangerous is the man at my table? How dangerous is his boss? Everyone seemed to straighten at the sight of the stranger with the cane. 

“There was no tactic--it was a game.” 

The man I don’t know tears his gaze away from Jesper. “Someone like you shouldn’t even be here.” 

He has a point--my demeanor doesn’t exactly scream someone who frequents establishments at the Barrel during the night. “I’m only here to keep my friend out of trouble.” A fair enough response. “And I played a game and someone can’t handle a loss.”

“You should have seen her bluff, I’ve met professional thieves that lie less fluently than her.” 

At Jesper’s words, the stranger’s grip around his cane tightens. I imagine that beneath his gloves, the color of marred souls, his knuckles are white. “Who do you work for? Who sent a girl to invade my business?” 

Who do I work for? No one that has any business with him. “What?” How self absorbed can one man be? 

“If playing the fool didn’t get you through a card game--don’t think it will get you through this.” 

What? Before I can question him, Anya grabs my shoulder, pulling me so that there’s a safer distance between me and the man. 

“You’re an idiot,” her whisper is pointed, directed solely at me. “Of course you’d find trouble with Dirtyhands.” Did I hear that correctly? Dirtyhands--as in the Dirtyhands? I stare at her, eyes wide. How had I been so stupid? I should have recognized him from his gloves alone. Anya turns her head towards them. “We don’t want any trouble--forgive my friend, she’s not a spy she’s just an oblivious idiot.” 

“Rude.” 

She throws me a glare. “But she did win.” The money isn’t worth the trouble we’ll find trying to keep it but Kenya’s words follow us wherever we go. “We’ll take what we earned and never come back.” 

“I don’t concede often.” 

I reach for Anya’s arm, brushing her forearm in hopes of telling her things will be okay. Kaz Brekker may be feared, but we’re gods in the making. “Neither do we.”

He seems to want to play at an odd, power-filled standstill, but Anya and I are more desperate than him. Anya leans forward, ready to take the money from the table, but the unidentified man who upped the stakes earlier is quick to grab her forearm. 

“I don’t take losses, little girl.”

Anya. I can only imagine the horror she feels when a strange man touches her. Screw precaution. “Is that money worth burning for?” 

“Y/n.” Anya’s warning comes out low; Jesper raises an eyebrow. I guess being Kamil was short lived. 

“Excuse me?” 

The man will not intimidate me. Fear is a crutch men use to keep women in check. “You heard my question.” I hold up my hand, releasing enough energy to develop a flame in my palm. “And if your answer is ‘no’, I suggest you release my friend before your body is nothing more than a pile of ash your own mother wouldn’t even be able to identify.” 

The stranger blinks, touches the gun on his hip, and then releases Anya’s arm. 

“You can’t come into my club, hustle money away from my men, and walk away unscathed because you’re a grisha.” 

Words cannot express how badly I do not want to speak to Kaz Brekker at any point in my life. His grip on his cane is a silent warning--a threat. But what is a man’s threat to a girl that’s meant to be a god? “You can kill me but I’ll use my dying breath to burn this entire building.” I’ve publicly backed him into a corner--I’m insane. 

Dirtyhands opens his mouth to reply, anyone within earshot holding on for his next words. Anya yanks me back as the sound of something explosive interrupts the room. A bullet flies past directly where I was standing and strikes the wall behind me. Anya just saved my life. Someone just shot at me. 

“Y/n, do you think it’s--” 

“No.” It can’t be. There’s no way a soldier found me again. “It can’t be--we were--we’ve been careful--and Kenya said they wouldn’t look for me--that he purchased me fully.” 

A man is moving through the crowd. A blue kefta. No. No. 

Not here. Not now.

And why are they shooting at me? “Anya,” I breathe out as cautiously as possible, “Run and no matter what don’t turn around.” 

“I’m not leaving you.” 

Anya. Always the older sister. “They don’t want you--they want me.” 

“You’re not a real Sun Summoner--it’s suicide for you.” 

I don’t have the heart to tell Anya I don’t particularly care about my life. It’s never truly been mine anyway. “I’ll make it out.” 

“You’re an inferni, not a miracle worker.” 

My lips pull into an odd sort of grimace. The gentle kind one hopes is mistaken for a smile. “I thought we were meant to be gods.” 

“A god can’t do what they want from you.” She mumbles. “So you’re capable of producing more fire than most--it’s not the same as creating light. It doesn’t matter how many drugs they pump into you it’s--” 

I shake my head once, “Anya--go.” 

“They want you to play Sun Summoner.” Dirtyhand’s tone is too smooth to trust. I know when someone’s trying to sell dreams that don’t exist. “The way they’ll have you do it will cost you, but the way I’ll have you do it will be practically painless.”

Is he always this confusing? “What?” 

The question is an irritation, that’s apparent in the cold tint that takes over his practically blank expression. “I need a Sun Summoner for a business deal--and lucky for you I’m out of time.” 

“You don’t want to work with me.” 

“No,” his voice is dismissive, he didn’t understand I meant that as a warning, “But I need to have some form of mass light before sunrise.” 

“The man I’m indentured to will never go for it.” Proposing such an idea would leave me with a broken rib again. 

Dirtyhands nods once, a vague acknowledgement. “That’s not your problem.” I keep my jaw set, scanning at the crowd for a flash of that blue kefta. “After all, it wasn’t his problem when he hurt you.” 

I had been careful to hide the bruises. The reminders of my humanity. My weaknesses, my failures, written onto my skin in purple and blue ink. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I didn’t until I got that reaction.” I’ve never so quickly felt the need to loathe someone. “It was easy enough to assume--young girl, desperate for money, a grisha powerful enough to be hunted down.” 

Is that supposed to be some sort of consolation? “My freedom would never come so easily.” 

“It wouldn’t be freedom--you’d owe me more than you already do for the kruge scam.” 

I swallow before I can make the mistake of telling him I’d consider any escape from Kenya freedom. “Close enough.” 

The grisha’s closer now, the light blue kefta so easy to spot amongst a sea of darkness. “You’re running out of time.” 

“Can you get my friend out?” 

“Y/n.” She can be mad for the rest of her life if she wants. 

He nods his head once. “She’ll be out the back before anyone knows she was even here.” 

“And she can take the money I won.” Maybe the income will be enough to spare her from Kenya’s wrath. “That’s a dealbreaker.” 

Kaz Brekker hesitates. It’s such a normal pause I almost think it’s a trap. “If she takes it there will be no way out for you--you will do what I ask even if it endangers your life.” 

“Y/n, it’s not worth it.” 

I don’t look at Anya. “You have my word.” 

“Y/n, I’m not taking anything and I’m not leaving you.” 

I finally turn. “Don’t be a self-sacrificing idiot--it’s not in your nature and frankly it doesn’t suit you.” Acts of goodness towards me have always left me feeling raw. Too raw. Like I’m bleeding out. “Sorry, I just…” Anya’s eyes are soft. She knows. She always knows. “I’ll get through whatever it is he’s planning and I’ll come back.” I swallow once, nerve draining from my body slowly. “Take the money--Kenya will be angry enough as is.” 

Anya drops her gaze as she collects from the table. It takes me a moment longer than it should to recognize this is shameful for her. I consider telling her that she’s doing the right thing, but that would burn her heart more. 

“You’re my sister,” Anya’s voice is lower than it’s ever been, “I should have stopped him.” 

Her guilt hurts more than the bruises. “You were as hurt as me--you have nothing to feel guilty about.” 

This is already more emotion than we’re used to expressing when alone let alone around others. Anya stretches out an arm, squeezes my shoulder once, and then takes a step back. “I’ll see you again.” 

“Yes,” I nod once.

“Jesper, take the girl out the back.” Turning forward blankly, Kaz begins to speak to me, “Hide behind the bar--my wraith will find you and take you somewhere else.” 

“Y--you have a wraith?” And I thought Kenya was weird. He lets out a sigh. “Sorry. Not the time.” 

“Desperation leads to bad decisions.” 

Dramatic. “I agree.” 

His gaze falls on me, taking in my narrow-eyed glare. There’s a moment in which I think the left corner of his mouth twitches upwards, but then he turns his head again. A trick of the light. “Go before you’re found and I’m out the money I let your friend take.” 

Yes. I’m not exactly safe right now, but Kaz Brekker needs me for something. That means I will not be leaving this building. By force or willingly. 

Silently, I turn, melting into those in the crowd that are either oblivious or don’t care enough to react to the cat and mouse game I’m currently in. When I reach the bar, I’m quick to duck behind it, pressing my back against shelves of alcohol. 

[topazy]

The Fierce And Broken

2.03

Masterlist

“What did you just say?” You stepped closer to the blonde. “Clarke! What did you just say?”

“Your dad's dead...I’m sorry.”

You stared at her in disbelief, it couldn’t be true. “H...how would you even know that?”

As Clarke opened her mouth to answer you a dart flew past you, missing your neck by a few centimetres. The mountain men. Anya jumped to her feet, “we need to move now!”

You quickly moved and untied the grounder, and noticed Clarke glaring as she watched you. “Al, what are you doing?”

“We are being hunted,” you said stepping as Anya rubbed at her wrists. “We need to go now!”

The three of you took off again, with Anya leading the way. Once you had gotten a safer distance away you kneeled on the ground and collected a few of the stay darts and put them in your pocket. Standing up you were taken aback when Clarke stood in front of you, she was pissed.

“What are you doing? She has tried to kill us,” Clarke whispered.

“She’s not going to kill us,” you glanced at Anya who was most likely listening in. “She didn’t save us in Mount weather to kill us now.”

You turned away from Clarke to look for the mountain men, when the grounder approached you. “You are wise Al of Skaikru. You can tell the commander what the mountain men are doing to us in there.”

“So let's work together,” Clarke said, interrupting her. “We don't have to be enemies.”

“And unite with someone as weak as you? I have what I need.” Anya snarled at her.

“Shit,” you hissed noticing the mouton men. “We need to get down low and go.”

—

“Quiet. You can't even walk in the woods.”You glanced back at Anya, who was staring at the ground. “Heavy footfalls, broken branches,” she stopped abruptly in front of a puddle. “You even smell like them.”

You watched the grounder pick up a handful of mud before she smeared it across your face. Her eyes practically oozed amusement as you frowned, “what the hell?”

“Cover yourself in mud,” she glanced over to Clarke. “Both of you, then maybe we will have a chance.”

Clarke slathered the mud on as you stalled, you didn’t understand the grounders logic. You were about to question her when another handful of mud landed across your chest. Sighing you decided to just go with it and rub the mud over yourself. A smugness spread across Anys lips, as she looked between you and Clarke, “we should keep moving.”

—

“How are they still following us? It’s because of you. Time to end this.”

Clarke let out a frustrated sigh. “Anya, we are stepping where you step. We are covered in mud and we’re leaving no trail.”

As Clarke and Anya spoke you scratched at your dirty itchy skin and felt a small bump on your arm. Curiously you licked your thumb and rubbed the dirt away so you could see it better, and you saw a small cut you never noticed before. “They are tracking us,” both of them stared at you. “It should feel like a small bump just under your skin.”

Anya let out a whine as she pressed against hers, Clarke looked at her arm. “I don’t have one, it’s only you two. Ok, I could remove them, I just need something sharp and sterile.”

Anya scoffed at her offer and bit into her arm and spat the tracker out, “I will not go back there.”

You gulped down. Knowing you needed to remove the tracker, otherwise you would never get back to camp. You studied the ground until you found a stone sharp enough. Here goes nothing. Your hands shook as you attempted to reopen your own small wound. “I can’t do it, Clarke you need to help me.”

Clarke hesitated, but Anya didn’t. She grabbed the stone out of your hand and within seconds she cut your arm and pushed the tracked out, and flung it into the bushes along with her own. Surprisingly it hardly hurt. “Thank you...we should get going.”

—

“Anya, you're still bleeding. At least let me bandage it before it gets infected.” Anya, reluctantly nodded and offered her arm to Clarke who waited until her guard was down before stabbing Anya in the neck with a dart. She looked up at you, “we can find our way home from here. She’s our prisoner now.”

“Clarke!” You hissed. “We were finally starting to build trust, now that will never happen.”

She looked at you with no emotion on her face, “I’m doing my best to get us back to camp. I have people-”

“We all have people Clarke,” you said a little too harshly. “I have Murphy, Octavia, and Raven to think about. You're not the only one who wants to keep their friends alive, and have peace with the grounders.” You glanced at Anya who was half asleep, “since we need to wait on her waking up again, you might as well tell me what happened to my dad.”

The blonde gulped down, and you could see she was uncomfortable. “When you were passed out we made contact with the ark...my mom was asking about of all the people who removed their bracelets and who was still alive, I mentioned your name and-”

“And what?”

“She told me your dad sacrificed himself during the culling.”

You shook your head frantically as you felt warm tears fall down your cheeks. “No, he wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t do that to me.” Feeling your voice beginning to break you took a deep breath, “my dad wouldn’t leave me on my own.”

Clarke looked at you sympathetically, “he thought you had died.”

Your dad died thinking you were gone, and now you’d never get to see him again. Blinking away tears, you glanced at Anya who was now staring up at you and Clarke. You reached a hand out and helped the grounder to her feet, “let’s go. I doubt the mountain men are far behind.”

You would find time to grieve your father, but right now you needed to focus on staying alive and saving everyone in Mount Weather.

—

“Look at that,” Clarke said, walking in front of you and Anya.

Following a beacon you finally reached your destination, you had finally found camp again. Except it was different, it was at a different location and far more people were at it. The ark had finally come to earth. You had made it.

You could feel the grounder beside you shifting, “how many are there?”

“I don't know. A lot, I hope.” Clarke turned to face Anya. “I'm not forcing you to come into our home. I'm not weak, but I'm not like you. Our only chance against Mount Weather is if we fight together. To beat them, we'll need our technology and your knowledge of this world. I know my people will help. The question is, will yours?”

The grounder held her hand out for Clarke, “The commander was my second. I can get an audience.”

Anya glances at you and nods. “You are two people, Alba. Heda gon bàsmhorachd, and heda gon mathanas. One is a gift and the other is a weakness, always remember that.”

You nodded in return and made a mental note to ask Octavia what both those things meant. As you started to walk towards camp a gun was fired. You ducked quickly and grabbed Clarke’s wrist to pull her down with you, hearing a wheezing noise you turned to see Anya struggling to breath.

You crawled over to her and put pressure on her wound, “No, no, no, no. Hey. It's ok.”

“Ai gonplei ste odon.”

My fight is over. You saw Anya’s eyes glaze over as she stopped breathing, “No. No, no, no. Anya!”

Clarke placed a hand on your shoulder, “Al...she’s gone.”

You pulled one of Anya’s blades out of her pocket and cut a braid of her off, and placed it inside your pocket. Clarke raised her eyebrows but said nothing, it occurred to you she might not have been aware of the grounders tradition. If a meeting between your people and hers was to happen, you hoped they would appreciate the gesture. You hoped it’s what the grounder warrior would have wanted.

Standing up you let out a shaky breath before turning back around to face camp, when you did a guard was standing directly in front of you.

[retrievablememories]

the second time around | jaehyun

title: the second time around pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: fluff, some angst request: “Hi! Here’s a suggestion for a story or add-on to another story you wrote. I really liked moonlight w/ jaehyun! Could you do a follow up with him not seeing her for awhile and him (and her secretly) being pissed about it but wants to reconnect with her but outside of being a customer. Ty and keep up the good work with your writing.” word count: 2.9k warnings: a couple mentions of sex a/n: hmm...the sequel to moonlight...sequels are scary to write but here we are lol. this could’ve been posted last sunday really but i’ve been stalling oof

Despite getting Jaehyun’s number after that night at the strip club, you’ve seen and heard a lot less of him than you’d like. On his end, Jaehyun isn’t so pleased about losing touch either, but you wouldn’t know that with the lack of communication.

Both of you are ultimately busy with your own lives, and it’s not like he can just drop in whenever he wants to visit you. Not just because he’s busy, but also because of where you work. The men keep their visits to the club on a once-a-month basis for a reason—to avoid tipping off any stalkers who’d find out and leak their whereabouts.

You’ve texted each other a few times since your first meeting, and you enjoyed the conversations you got to have within that timespan, but the time between responses kept getting longer—on both of your ends—until things eventually dropped off.

You were unhappy about this, though you tried not to be so obvious about it to the other girls. Getting attached to customers was not a good look. Even if they were handsome and nice and had good dick.

However, Anya was the first to notice your slightly sour mood despite your best efforts to project an unphased demeanor. And, being her usual nosy self, she managed to pry it out of you before you could even think about denying it.

“Don’t stress about it,” she’d told you on the night you finally spilled the beans. She’d wrapped her arms around your shoulders and tipped your chin up, making you hold your head up higher and look at yourself in the mirror reflection facing you. “There will be many more men where he came from. And if you don’t wanna deal with any more men right now, that’s fine too. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on, anyway.”

“I’m not stressing over it,” you’d argued, sighing. “We don’t stress over men who aren’t boyfriends, remember?”

Anya grinned then, though you could tell it was the kind of smile you give when a friend is doing something they shouldn’t be—or indulging in something they think is good for them when it’s not. “Duh. But you might wanna start following your own advice if you’re gonna be dishing it out!” And then she’d gone off to do her own thing, probably to finish getting ready for her set later that night or to go bother one of her favorite bartenders.

You’d looked at yourself in the mirror more closely, frowning at the truthfulness of her statement and wishing you had not been quite so easy to read. You’d had a show right after that, which allowed you to take your mind off the mess for at least a few hours. But in the small moments when you weren’t thinking about work or school or anything else you had to do, Jaehyun crept back into your mind like a specter, wanting you to acknowledge him even though you weren’t getting the same.

When you head out to the parking lot after a particularly long night, you slow your steps when you see a man leaning against his car, his cap pulled over his eyes and his head low. In any other scenario, you probably would’ve alerted one of the bouncers, thinking he was some creep waiting until after your stage to try to corner you in a shady area. However, you hold off on calling anybody because you can clearly recognize him even if he thinks he’s being inconspicuous—it’s Jaehyun.

He lifts his head when he hears your shoes on the ground, and his lips turn up into something of a smile.

“If you wanted another dance, you’re a bit late. We just closed,” you say jokingly, raising an eyebrow at him. Jaehyun shakes his head.

“Tempting idea, but that’s not what I came here for.” He turns to face you fully now, observing you in your casual, after-work clothes. In the back of your mind, you realize this is the first time he’s seen you outside the context of performing. Then he sighs. “It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

“I know.” Your familiar irritation rises again. Sure, maybe him coming to see you or you going to see him more often isn’t feasible. A text or a call, though...would be decidedly less effort, and not difficult to do. You’re not sure whether to be more irritated with him or yourself about not trying to reach out again, though you decide to aim your annoyance at him just because you can.

Jaehyun nods to your agreement. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” you say. “Work is...work. It has its ups and downs. How are you? Busy with the idol life?”

Jaehyun sighs. “Yeah...it just gets…stressful sometimes.” He bites his lip and shakes his head, seeming bothered about whatever’s going on with his job but not wanting to say much more about it.

“I’m sure,” you respond, and you don’t really know what to say afterwards. It’s been a while since either of you talked, and it’s strangely hard to try to pick up where you left off as if nothing happened. Jaehyun realizes this, too, and appears distressed at not knowing how to keep the conversation going with you—and possibly wasting your time.

You nod to yourself and shift on your feet. “Well, the Uber will probably be here soon, so—”

“I don’t know what things will look like between us, but I don’t want us to fall out of contact again,” Jaehyun blurts out, then winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just...don’t want either of us to leave before we...sort this out, I guess.”

You think to yourself, wondering if this is really worth trying to pursue. You’ve yet to deal with a man with the level of fame that Jaehyun has, yet with such a strict image to keep, which makes things exponentially more complicated. But despite your apprehension, you still want to know where this could lead. After a moment, you say, “Well, if you’re willing...I’d like the same.”

Jaehyun nods and stands up a little straighter, like that response just gave him the energy he needed. “Do you wanna….go somewhere? Just to like, hang out.” His proposition is abrupt, and you didn’t expect it. 

“Now?” You check your phone, and it’s 18 minutes past 2 a.m. There aren’t too many places that will still be open at this hour, other than establishments similar to your line of work, but you aren’t in the mood for any more of that tonight. Your driver, too, is only a few minutes away, but you already find yourself with your finger hovering over the Cancel button. “We could.”

Jaehyun goes around to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you. You get into his car, noting its sleek interior. Once he gets in, he asks you what you want to hear, and you notice he’s looking through his Spotify. You shrug.

“I don’t know. Show me something you like,” you say. You cringe at sounding so disinterested, which makes you realize you might just be a little more upset about being ghosted than you thought you were. You almost want to curse at how this dude is taking you off your usual game. “I mean, I like hearing new music anyway, so…”

Jaehyun starts the car and grins slightly. “Alright, then let me show you the best of the best…” You both end up listening and vibing to a playlist he’s made, which is good. Not that you didn’t expect it to be, but you end up liking most of the songs he shows you, which usually doesn’t happen with other people’s playlists.

Jaehyun ends up taking you to an ice cream place that’s still open this late, to your surprise. The sitting area inside the store is closed, though they’ve kept the drive-thru open for late-night travelers like yourselves who want a quick treat. You don’t question it, though; you definitely won’t pass up a chance for some ice cream.

You end up eating the ice cream while sitting in his car and listening to the rest of his playlist. Neither of you say much other than commenting on the songs or talking about your favorite ice cream flavors or making other non-committal small talk. You kind of prefer it this way, at least for the moment—just listening to the music and watching the headlights and taillights of cars that pass by.

You and Jaehyun ride around the city for a while longer after finishing the ice cream, not intending to go anywhere in particular but just coasting on the highways. It might be an excuse to keep listening to this new playlist he’s put on, or maybe more reason to pretend that awkward period between you never happened. Acknowledging it in a way, but not speaking any life into it. 

Eventually, though, it has to arise back to the surface. Jaehyun taps his fingers against the steering wheel at a red light, like he’s impatient to get somewhere, and you wonder what he’s feeling until he comes out and says,

“I think it was...ultimately my fault for not contacting you more. Or not trying to stay in contact.”

The words hang in the air for a moment. “Well, I won’t argue with that,” you finally respond.

“It’s just hard to get close to anyone and be an idol at the same time. Sometimes I sabotage myself when I shouldn’t, and…” He trails off, though you don’t know whether he’s searching for the words or has decided to leave his sentence at that.

“You’d rather not be embarrassed by dating a stripper, or something along those lines?” Your tone is nonchalant, though you’re a little bothered by saying it. He wouldn’t be the first or the last person to feel some type of way about your job, though you’ve mostly gotten used to the judgment at this point.

Jaehyun seems a bit startled by the statement. “If you like doing it, then I don’t care what you do. You should live your life however you want to.”

“I see,” you say slowly. “Most men I meet outside of the club are not receptive to it, so you ain’t gotta lie if you feel some other way about it, seriously...”

“I’m serious,” he insists. “You told me that day that you liked it, and I believed you. I just think...we should all be able to do things we enjoy without worrying about what others think of it.”

Jaehyun turns to look at you for a moment, and his features are lit up by the street light as it turns green. His face, which is simultaneously painted with shadows and glowing with light, appears to be just as genuine as he sounds. Or maybe this late-night atmosphere just has you feeling more receptive and sentimental than usual. Then he broaches the next subject carefully, steering you back to where the conversation began. “You didn’t text me anymore, either.”

“I figured you’d moved on or something, maybe started talking to someone else…” you reply. “And, you know, if that was the case...so be it. There wouldn’t be a point to chasing someone who wasn’t interested anymore.”

“I am interested.” Jaehyun rushes the words out, like he’s eager to dispel the uncertainty before you get the wrong idea; not that that hasn’t already happened, but still. It isn’t too late to change your mind. “I want to like, know you as a person...not just while being a customer at the club, or something like that.”

You nod, looking at your hands and considering his words. “We can do that...yeah, we can.” Then you hold your hand out to him, a grin playing on your lips. “Nice to meet you, then. I’m Y/N.”

He smiles too, and takes your hand in one of his. “I’m Jaehyun.”

The conversation after that seems to reach a turning point, like somehow you’ve broken the ice and can finally talk to each other on a deeper level without worrying about the issue that’s been lingering over your heads all night. You think you could talk to him like this for hours if you wanted to, if there was enough time in the world for it. 

Unfortunately, though, you don’t have as much time as you’d like, and once it starts edging on 4 AM, you both decide it’s probably best to call it a night. Jaehyun takes you back to your apartment after you tell him where it is.

He parks in front of the apartment complex, and you’re prepared to thank him for the night and get out, but he insists on walking you up to your apartment—something about it being too dangerous for women to walk alone at night.

“It’s not that far.” You laugh, but you aren’t going to argue about it if it means getting a few more moments with him.

Jaehyun follows you up the steps after you both get out of the car. You walk a little slower to prolong the moment, but eventually you have to get up to your apartment door. You also take your time with taking your keys out of your bag and putting them in the lock. And maybe you’re not as slick as you thought, because Jaehyun notices. He laughs quietly behind you, but the sound isn’t low enough to escape your hearing.

You turn around to look at him, your hand on the doorknob. “Well, I guess that’s it. Thanks for the ride...and for the ice cream, you know.”

He nods, and one of his dimples pokes out. “You didn’t have to entertain me tonight, but I’m glad you did...so, thanks.”

Both of you linger in your doorway for a few more moments. Jaehyun wants to come in, and you know it, but you also know he probably won’t say it because he technically shouldn’t. His members are expecting him back at the dorm. He doesn’t want to impose, and he didn’t even bring any extra clothes. But you know he wants to come in, and you want it, too.

You tilt your head to the side. “Would it be bad if I asked you to stay?” you say tentatively.

A slow smile spreads on his face. “No, it wouldn’t.”

You open the door wider so he can step inside and take his shoes off at the entrance. You lead him to your living room by the hand. “What do you wanna do?” you ask, looking at him imploringly. You want to be sure you’re both on the same page concerning your intentions.

“Whatever you wanna do,” he echoes, holding your hand a bit tighter. You expect to see lust or some similar desire in his expression and had already figured you might end up having sex again tonight, but his eyes expect nothing from you. He only smiles in the dim light of your apartment and waits for you to make the next move.

You laugh, and it comes out as an airy chuckle. “Well, then...I want to lay down. It’s been a long day.” From your tone, Jaehyun understands that you really just want to lie down and not think about much of anything else right now. He follows you when you lead him into your bedroom and sits patiently on your bed while you go to the bathroom to change into your night clothes. You’re thankful you already took a shower at the club, because you’re not sure you’d have the energy to do all that now.

He’s taken his jeans off when you come back into the room, though he still keeps his shirt on. You get onto the bed and lean over him, hooking your finger into the collar of his shirt, and he looks up at you. “You can take this off if you want, I don’t care.”

“Is this you saying you want to see me shirtless?” He grins, though he readily takes the invitation and pulls his shirt off, placing it to the side along with his pants.

You shake your head good-naturedly, a smile on your face. “I promise it’s innocent…but the view never hurts.”

You peel the sheets back and you both climb underneath them, lying across from each other and looking at each other like you want to say something more but aren’t sure what. There isn’t much light in the room except for the street lights coming from your bedroom window, muted slightly by the blinds.

Jaehyun laughs suddenly, breaking the silence, and you do the same. You’re not sure why either of you are laughing, but you do so anyway, simply enjoying the moment for what it is. After your laughter dies down, he takes your hand from where it’s resting on the pillow and slips his pinky around yours. “I’ll try not to lose you this time.”

You lean a little closer to his face so you can plant a kiss on his lips—just a short and soft touch. He tastes like ice cream, and somehow you know there will be many more kisses like this in the future. “You better not.”

[kylo-hen]

Super bloom

A/N: A little something I wrote yesterday. Definitely more me projecting all my sadness into some fluff. Don’t know if this is one-shot or what, so let me know if you want more!!

Kylo Ren x Reader (Intergalactic soulmate AU)

Summary: People come from far and wide to visit the sacred Cherry Blossom Grove, but also to get a chance at finding their soulmate. What happens when Kylo Ren finds his soulmate in the most unlikely of planets in the outer rim?

Warnings: None, just fluff. It’s a soulmate AU so, just... that lol. 

There is a story the Elders tell, that every bloom of the cherry blossom represents a new pair of soulmates connected in the galaxy. These tales have been sacred to my people for centuries and thousands of visitors come to our planet, Katto, just to see the sacred blossom grove in the capitol. They come to see the spectacle, to have their hand at possibly finding love.

No different than the other seasons of my life, the hoards of people came to see them bloom as soon as the snow that blanketed the city receded with warmth. Lovers flooded the streets to celebrate, groups put on elaborate dances and performances to celebrate the magic we held in the city, and the elders welcomed the visitors with open arms in hopes to enrich them with our lore. Windows opened, and wherever you walked in the city, sounds of people singing mixed with people making love. It was freeing, as long as you had someone to share it with.

Born to the town’s only book keep and his strong-willed wife who spent her days making dresses, I was their third daughter. Father always said he prayed for a son, and instead he received his suns, and that with every step his family lights his path and his heart. He’s very sentimental, which is shared in his first-born daughter and my eldest sister, Sennica.

Only two years after Sennica was born, my parents had Anya, their second daughter, and new joy. They had planned on stopping then, with two perfect girls they had no want for more. But, my father, always the determined man that he is, decided that if they had another, he knew it would be a boy. He was wrong. Three years after Anya, I was born to the surprise of my father, his third daughter. There had been much celebration because I had been born the day of the bloom, all the elders came to visit and bless me with the hope and luck that I may find my soulmate. As I grew in the heart of the capital, surrounded by others who thanked the gods for their person, their light, I always wondered when mine would come.

As I grew up, I watched, I waited, and when I got old enough, I even dared to hope that the elder’s blessings for true fortune in the search for my love would come true. When Sennica found her person, Petrik a boy from the outskirts of town who worked on a farm, I was only fourteen. I watched the way they loved; how complete they were. The two married almost immediately, starting a family only a year later on Petrik’s farm.

From that moment forward there was a shift in Anya. Gone were the days she spent in the library with father and I, even at seventeen, she was determined to have the joy we saw in Sennica. Then it was only me in the dusty dank shelves of the books that father was tasked with looking after. I spent my days learning and reading of far off places, dreaming of one day escaping the planet centered around love. I wanted to love, yes, but I want an adventure more.  

This blooming season was no different than the ones before, the ships stormed the atmosphere, taking refuge outside the city limits. They carried everyone from curious foreigners who seek the chance to find love, to political leaders invited by the elders as a hope they will remain at peace with our small planet. As a young child my father would tell us stories about the great Jedi wars, as he called them, and the magical force that connected everything. He gave me books to read describing the mystical energy, and its wielders. Secretly I prayed at our modest temple to be one of the great force wielding Jedi masters, but as I grew there were no such qualities.

Each year the political guests changed as the far-off wars and alliances changed, but every year father took them to the library we kept and showed them the beautiful knowledge and records we had stored there. Without fail, every single year I sat in a dusty corner of the library waiting for something to happen, for these old men to say something, to do something, and every year they would glance over me as if I were part of the building itself.

The great ships could be seen landing outside the city, and the town was buzzing everywhere. The second I stepped foot onto the cobbled streets I could hear the sounds of the festivals beginning. There were street players already bustling a tune and already a crowd began to form to dance. The distant roar of the grand ships only mixed with the delighted music to form anticipation in my stomach. My eyes, drawn to the crowd of people dancing, caught the sight of a new ship overhead, it was much smaller, a personal ship it seemed. I passively wondered who the ship was brought to my home.

As the nearby song ended, I began the short trek to the library my father worked at. The elders would be by soon with the dignitaries’ tour of the sights, and I wanted to get comfortable before they arrived. This year my father seemed much tenser, when I asked, he only murmured something about a ‘regime change’ and suggested I stay home this year. I only promised him I would stay farther on the shelves than normal.

As I made my way through the crowd, I saw two more of those bizarre ships fly overhead. I looked around to see if anyone else even noticed and no one else seemed to bat an eye. Maybe It was a new model? I told myself for reassurance, but as I said it a pit began to form in my stomach. I shoved the feeling down as far as I could and continued along.

Once in the library, I found my father doing some last-minute sweeps of the area to assure that it was not only safe but clean for the elders and guests. When he saw me a look of irritation and relief flashed over his features.

“I thought we agreed you were staying home this year?” He did not sound impressed with either my choice of fashion or my overall appearance, probably both.

“I agreed I would stay away, but never once did I say how far father,” he sighed and turned to properly greet me, “I’m getting too clever for you now.” I beamed, proud of my wit.

“You’re getting too clever for your own good,” he looked me over to see what I was wearing, “would it have killed you to wear a nice dress, the one your mother made specifically for you?” His chastisement only rolled off my skin like water. This dress was fine for last years guests, why would this be different?

“I’ll sit in the back behind most of the shelves, I promise.” He only sighed again and looked over my shoulders in worry, “I just want to see them before the festival begins.” I explained, he looked at me once again and tucked a small bit of hair behind my ear.

“I know my little bud, I know.” His term of endearment resonated in my chest filling it with a soft comforting glow. He leaned in to kiss my forehead before sending me to the back of the room. “Now, I don’t want you to come out unless you are called upon.” He commanded me, in hopes that for once I would listen. And with my father’s command, I went to the farthest, dustiest part of the library and waited.

By the time I heard any commotion it had been close to an hour, not that I had any real way to tell how much time had passed except for a small window nearby that overlooked the streets. I heard the grand doors open, and voices echoing along the halls. I could recognize the tone of an older Elder, Elder Norfin, she always jumped at the chance to show off our records no matter how old she was. Her soft lilt was contrasted by a robotic intoned voice that boomed without recognition. That must have been the new guest of honor.

Suddenly, my curiosity could no longer be quelled. I imagine if I could just peak from behind a shelf, they would be none the wiser. Even if they did know, what was the harm in looking? I stood from the corner I had sheltered myself in and slowly made my way towards the center aisle overlooking the majority of the library. I knew if I shimmied along this shelf there was a low chance of anyone catching me, and so I slowly made my way towards the voices echoing from below.

Once I got close enough to see the tail end of the party touring the records, I noticed they were very different than the usual storm troopers that usually accompanied the guest. Two people were guarding the door in dark intricate black robes. One held a long metal staff that looked like an ax I had seen on Petrik’s farm when we visited last year. The other held a long blade that looked like it curved at the tip. Both were wearing masks that could have been mutations of a stormtrooper, but still dark and much more intimidating.

I moved even farther towards the mouth of the shelf to see if I could get a better look at the person that required such intimidating guards. As I inched forward, rounding the corner to see who It was I felt it. There was a pounding in my chest that pulled me forward. An ache that had been described to me in great detail growing up. The feeling the gods give you when you’re about to meet your soulmate.

I froze, I wasn’t sure what I should do. How do you explain to your soulmate that you’ve been attempting to eavesdrop on their official political business? How could you face them when you’ve been acting like a child?

Amid my internal panic, I failed to realize the conversation had sharply ceased below me.

I heard the robotic drawl begin again, despite the fact I could not see them, “Who else is here?” He all but demanded.

“M-my daughter, Supreme Leader, is upstairs,” My blood ran cold as I listened to my father’s nerves. He was a collected man by trade and to hear his obvious unsettlement made me wish I had listened to him. “She’s still very young sir, she cannot even hear us from where I left her.” My father tried to reassure the man standing intimidatingly before him. I heard the shuffling of footsteps and the pounding ache in my chest increased.

“Bring her to me.” He said simply, whether it was to my father or the guards was a mystery to me. The idea of the guards coming near me was enough to push me to reveal myself, in hopes he would be kind once I explained I meant no harm.

The only problem is, once I popped up from where I was crouched between the safe shelves of stories that couldn’t hurt me, I zeroed in on the person who I knew I was meant to find. The world around me ceased to exist, there was movement, voices, a commotion but as soon as the masked figure faced me there was nothing but the pounding of my heart in time with his. His squared shoulders seemed sturdy, but they wavered in my gaze and the curiosity, oh the curiosity, of what lay under the mask that kept me from the man who held my fate in his gloved hands.

The only thing that broke me from my gaze was the feeling of a harsh hand grabbing my arm, surely to leave bruises by nightfall. I looked up and one of the guards from the door, the one with the ax-like blade was ushering me down the steps.

“Who are you?” The man, the Supreme Leader, asked once I was ushered in front of him.

“(Y/N),” I murmured, my voice sounding small and distant than what I expected in my head. He tilted his head in his mask, every micro-movement becoming clear to me now. “My father is the bookkeeper,” I said without breaking my gaze, I don’t think I could if I wanted.

“(Y/N),” he murmured, still disguised with the robotic lilt, “How old are you?” He seemed to expect me younger from my father’s description of me, I felt my heart bloom and the blood in my veins all but slowed.

“I will be twenty-three tomorrow, sir.” I finally broke my gaze by bowing my head in respect, and my body physically deflated without that connection.

He hummed and appraised me further, “Ap’Lek, let her go.” He commanded and his guard complied immediately. The supreme leader stepped forward; he lifted my chin affectionately lifting my gaze to his. Despite his helmet, I felt his eyes pierce mine, I could feel the world around me dissolve. “We’ll have to celebrate your birthday, join us in the grove.” He asked, well demanded, still guiding my chin to meet his gaze. I nodded shyly, and as soon as the moment passes there are cries of objection.

“I beg your pardon sir,” My father began, “She doesn’t need to impose you-“ He began, only to be cut off by another elder, Elder Fishalm.

“That’s highly unnecessary, and not to mention against the protocol for-“ before he could finish the supreme leader whipped around in anger, but before he could do anything the other elder stepped forward to diffuse the situation.

“Elder Fishalm, please,” She began softly, her voice lowering the tension in the room, “There are higher powers at play now.” Her voice alluding to the unspoken connection between us. “If the supreme leader wishes to bring her, the gods have already brought them together, there is little for them to be upset about.” She explained looking fondly over the two of us.

“If there are no further objections,” The supreme leader grits out sharply at the two men who dared challenge him, “let’s carry on.” His tone was commanding and dark but his hand grazed mine with a tenderness I had never experienced. When I looked up at him, he was already looking down at me, I felt the deepest butterflies in her chest. How was I going to make it out of this without making a fool of myself?

I accompanied the group through the rest of the tour, the supreme leader was sure to keep me by his side with a light guiding hand on the small of my back. I had kept my gaze mostly lowered to the ground out of respect not only for the Elder’s present but the supreme leader. He appraised me often, checking if was alright, which I always answered with a swift short nod.

The day didn’t become interesting until we made our way to exit the library, to go to the sacred grove. That’s when the guards took a formation around us to walk through the streets carefully. The walk there was filled with celebration in the streets. It was all so different from this side, from behind the guard I could barely see and the only thing keeping me steady and grounded was the large leather hand at the small of my back. He guided me with ease, poise, precision without ever making me feel anything less than comfortable. When I looked up at him, he was already gazing down at me.

There was a soft robotic chuckle in my ear, “Watch where you’re going little girl, what kind of soulmate would I be if I let you fall.” He murmured only loud enough for me to hear over the celebration. It was the first time I heard it out loud, he addressed me as a soulmate. Every bone in my body wanted to turn to jelly right then, and he must have felt that from me because he gave another sadistic chuckle.

There was nothing as strong as a soulmate connection, that’s what everyone I knew told me. There was nothing better than this bond formed, and given to you by the gods, by the force. I could only imagine what it would be like when we were alone. If he would still be as sturdy, if he was good looking or not, or if once we were alone It would be like the first time, I saw him.

These thoughts were only interrupted by our arrival at the temple entrance to the sacred grove. There was a big deal made as we entered the hexagonal format, there were monks lined on either side throwing petals at us in celebration and I could only think that this was our way of honor, not theirs. The man by my side stiffened, maybe in irritation, maybe in caution but either way the very act made me want to cease the existence of the very petals that could upset him.

Once the temple doors were closed behind us the energy immediately shifted. The remaining elders lined the far side of the room in a bowed stance. I had never seen them like that, they were the direct connections from our people to the god, they were the ones we looked to. To see them lay down their respect to the man at my side had my heart soar with pride. He must be a great man, I may not know much of him, but his adventures must be great.

“Leave us.” He commands the elders, who have now risen to hear his command, “I wish to enter the sacred grove with only my soulmate by my side.” He speaks evenly, commanding them with little effort and maximum efficiency.

The use of the word soulmate is not lost There is still a deep ache in my chest commanding me near him, and the sheer thought of even leaving his sight for a moment has my heart dropping through the planet’s floor. As the Elders exit, his guards take posts on either side of the grove’s entrance.  He moves forward to the entrance, the light eclipsing his large form.

The shadowed figure eclipsed the entrance, and I couldn’t help but think I would live in that shadow for the rest of my life if he asked. He suddenly let out a laugh, I was startled, I was so entranced by his form that I had no clue what was happening around me. Had he said something?

“No, little one,” he reached a hand out for me to take, and without hesitation I grabbed it, still confused. He just hummed and lead me into the sacred space filled with the enormous old Cherry Blossoms that were already beginning to bloom.

There was a small creek that split the grotto in the center, he led me with expertise, despite the fact he had never traversed this space as I had many times in reverence of the gods.

Once we escaped the sun below one of the older, and larger, trees I could no longer hold my tongue.

“Who are you?” I blurted as he sat silently, his helmet still glinting from the sunlight that peaked through the trees, “You’re the supreme leader of what exactly?” I softened my tone and looked away embarrassed that my education lacked.

He reached for my hand softly and I looked down at him as he sat, relaxed, “Everything,” He started, “The supreme leader of the galaxy.” He was smug, teasing me for my sheltered learning.

“Do you have a name?” I kneeled to meet his gaze head-on, now that I was within reach, he traced my features slowly.

“Kylo Ren.” He answered evenly. It was robotic, electronic, rehearsed even. There was hurt there, I could sense it through all the armor he wore.

“May I call you Kylo?” I asked, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with a title he didn’t prefer.

“Please,” it came out as a whisper, which must have shocked him with tenderness. He immediately changed the subject, not to cause himself pain, “I heard tales of these trees granting people with their perfect match, a soulmate for all eternity, and I didn’t believe it.” He began speaking and all I wanted to do was curl into his words and make a home in them. His voice resonated in my chest like a cat curled up in the sun. “You are the most unbelievably perfect sight to see.” His compliment made a home in my heart, my soul.

“I am nothing in comparison to the reflection of my soul before me. I am not always the most graceful, I have been sheltered most of my life, and I have spent most of my time avoiding the traits that make me a good wife.” I explained bashfully, feeling an instant comfort to say what’s on my mind and bare my soul to this man, “I am not promising to be perfect, or reasonable even, but I cannot imagine giving you anything less than everything I can give.” I let my hands trace his helmet, cementing the image in my brain lest I ever part with him.

Suddenly his hands leave my waist, they reach up to his helmet and with a hiss he removes it.

Underneath lay the most beautiful face I have ever seen. The soulful eyes that bore back into mine show the nerves he has been hiding, there were freckles dashed upon every surface of his face. A scar split the right side of his face with a violence that made me want to kiss away every fear, every trepidation, or threat from his mind until he finds himself in complete bliss. His lips were pillowed together in a small pout and his brows furrowed, waiting for my response.

“I fear you have grossly exaggerated my beauty over your own,” I speak, earning a blush dancing across his cheeks, a shy laugh even graces his demeanor. “I don’t know what I have done to please the gods to have you, but I shall thank them every waking second for it,” I spoke without even realizing I was speaking.

“May I kiss you?” He asked quietly, returning his hands to my waist. I nodded fervently and he wasted no time, pushing his lips onto my own.

The moment our lips touched it felt like I was struck by lightning. My body coursed with an invisible power that rushed through every cell of my being and bursting them. He pulled me closer so my body was tucked flush against his, he felt so solid. His hands roamed my back as his mouth opened, beckoning mine to do the same. As our kiss deepened my hands found a home in his hair.

This continued until he detached his mouth from mine and moved to my neck. I suddenly became aware of how inexperienced I was in this area. He must have sensed my discomfort because he detached himself to check my well-being.

“Are you alright?” He asked, worried he had gone too far, “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

I smiled and leaned my head on his shoulder, hiding in embarrassment, “No! I, I just never…” I broke off not knowing what to say. “I’ve just always been waiting and now I don’t know what to do.” I murmured, and he wrapped around me.

“you don’t have to worry about that,” he comforted me, “We can do as much or as little as you’d like sweet girl.” He murmured the term of endearment and it set my body alight. Heat spread from my chest outwards to places I had never felt before.

“I like it when you call me that.”  I admitted to him, as he got lost in my eyes, “I’ll be your sweet girl.” He smiled at that, excited about the idea. As we lay there, under one of the sacred trees, saying nothing and everything to one another I decided there was no way I could ever be apart from this man.

“What happens now?” I asked him and suddenly there is tension again. I kick myself for making him uncomfortable, I can’t imagine how long it’s been since this man was at peace and I have ruined it.

“There is a dinner, for the festival, I would like you to join me.” He spoke slowly, waiting for my objections that he expected.

“I would love to join you but,” He tenses fully and I am quick to reassure him, “I would need to change into something nicer.” I look down at my day dress that would be inappropriate to dine in.

“you could wear any dress you like; you will still be the most beautiful person in the room.” He compliments, looking into my eyes for emphasis. His deep brown eyes were filled to the brim with adoration.

“What will we do after, after the festival, when all of the dust settles,” I asked and he got a distant smile on his face.

“Come with me,” he turned to me, his eyes young and pleading like a young boy, “I’ll show you the galaxy, keep you by my side forever, you’ll never want for anything. Come with me?” His face was open, hesitant, he was scared. He’s clearly been hurt before, he wears his feelings so blatantly, it’s a wonder he doesn’t already have someone waiting for him. My heart beats out to his, my soul intertwined forever, and my body is for the taking. I was destined for this, for him.

“Yes.” I smiled, with no doubt creeping in from my mind, “I’d follow you anywhere.”

A/N: Please be sure to reblog/like/follow if you liked this! If you want more let me know! My inbox is open for any feedback or just general friendship lol. Thanks for reading!

[what-the--curtains]

Alliance

Chapter 7 – The Redemption

(Mando x reader)

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Summary: Caged and alone you struggle to stay alive as the empire questions you about the child. With nothing left to lose you begin planning your final escape.

Tw: Swearing, torture, blood.

Notes: whoop its been a minute, but class started back up so chapters will take a bit longer to get out! Hope y’all enjoy it❤️

Words: 3.6k

Tagged: @crazycookiecrumbles

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You're woken by yet another electrical shock coursing through your veins. They’d upped your security after your fourth escape attempt which meant you were only removed from your cell for intermittent questioning and various invasive tests. The sporadic visits left you with a distorted sense of time leaving you completely unaware at just how long you had been on the ship, a day? A week? A few hours? Your blood being drained wasn't helping the situation. You knew they would have figured out by now that its life elongating properties were nothing more than rumour, so what the hell did they need so much for? An all-inclusive spa?

After the shock finishes coursing through you, the two troopers cuff your limp limbs and walk you over to yet another cold, white, over-fluorescent room that smelled disconcertingly like bleach. They toss you roughly into a chair and restrain your wrists, abdomen and legs with thick metal straps that were sure to leave bruises. The troopers exit the room remaining at the door. Your multiple escape attempts paired with your ability to use the force had made them wary, watching your every move like a hawk. The door closes behind the troopers leaving you alone with only the faint murmur being emitted by the various machines casing the walls. You waited wondering who would be entering through the door. Another doctor or nurse with needles and vials which would be carted away for an unknown, but likely sinister purpose, or maybe another man in a grey uniform coming to beat you into submission. You’re not sure which you’d prefer. Whoever was coming for you today was taking their sweet time really keeping you in anticipation. Just as you’re dozing off the mechanical doors slide open. The imperial guard wastes no time in shocking you awake.

“Where is the child?” he says, lowering the cattleprod and removing his gloves.

“How the hell would I know that?” you ask your body clenched. Three men in lab coats enter the room drawing blood from you and exiting as quickly as they came.

“I will keep asking until your answer changes.” He says, this guard was particularly sadistic opting to burn you along your thigh when you once again refuse to answer.

“Well then start asking different questions.” you respond, eyes were brimming with tears that you had been holding back for too long.

“Where are they?” he demands, pressing the searing rod onto the bare flesh of your arm, you remain silent as a single tear rolls down your face.

“Even if I knew I’d never tell you” you say, as he slaps you across the face, the sound echoing throughout the room.

“You will if you value your life.” He snarls, grabbing you by the hollows of your cheeks.

“Well you’ve overestimated its value to me. Besides, my life is nothing compared to his.” You say, spitting blood back in his face

“Take her back. If she doesn’t speak soon, maybe she’ll finally get her wish.” He says, pulling out a white handkerchief. You watched as the white fabric slowly stains red as it drags across his face.

“Promise?” you ask smiling sweetly exposing your blood soaked teeth. It’s the last thing you remember before blacking out.

You wake up to a familiar scene, one you had bore witness to most nights. Your feet hit against the cold white marble tracing the same path you had walked a hundred times prior. Allowing yourself to flow through the motions, bringing your hands up to protect your face for the elements, fumbling around until you see the figure. Your hand reaches out your fist closing around nothing but the crisp air. This time, you don’t wake up. You swivel around looking back and scanning your dreamscape frantically, as the wind howls louder. A hand clasps around your mouth, you try to scream, but you can’t, you try to breath, but you can’t.

You jolt upright in the poor excuse for a bed gasping for air and pawing at your throat. You relax into a steady rhythm as your lungs refill with air, racking your hands through your hair. They’re just nightmares you repeat over and over to nobody but the four walls confining you.

They weren’t just anything and you knew that, especially not this one. This, this felt like a warning. It felt like something was calling to you, something evil. Something that was trying desperately to claw its way out. You shake your head, shifting to happier thoughts. You were still alive and that meant that the child was still safe, and Anya, and Din.

You figured you’d never see them again. You weren’t upset, or at least you wouldn’t be soon, one way or another. Hey at least you’d gotten an apology from the Mandalorian before the end, or you would have if you had let him finish his sentence. You knew it had to be this way. “This is the way” you say chuckling. Even a thousand light years away he was somehow still with you. Wherever they were they weren’t coming back, they couldn’t. You were on your own, and you had to plan your next escape to the T if it was going to work.

*************************************************

“I need your help, I can pay.” Din says to the ex-soldier.

“Mando, nice to see you again, and you found the precious bounty,” she says, lifting up the small green child who is happily held by her. “What do you need me for. “

“We need to get someone. Extraction mission. They were taken protecting this womp rat.” He says affectionately rubbing the kids head.

“Who took them?”

“The empire.” He deadpans.

“No way, not enough credits in the world.” She laughs, handing the child back to the Mandalorian and making her way over to her desk.

“Please.” he begs, hoping his desperation wasn’t as evident as it sounded under the helmet.

“Do they expect you to go back?”

“I don’t even know if they're alive.”

“Must be someone pretty special for you to risk going back there with him” she says stroking the kids ear.

“ I’m not taking the kid, I’m leaving him with a friend.”

“ Lots of friends these days hey Mando? Fine, I'll help, but I get my pick of the weapons after.”

“Deal. Not the spear though. Cara. Are you listening to me” he asks as she enters into the ship, not listening.

Corvus, Outer Rim

“So who are we looking for here?” Cara asks.

“Ashoka Tano, she's a Jedi, she can watch Grogu while we get the person out” he says, unsure why he kept referring to you as a person and not by name.

“Jedi, hey? They seem drawn to you maybe you're secretly one” she laughs

“You coming?” he asks

“Nope, I'll let you escort junior here to his babysitter, assuming you can handle it alone?”

Din exits the ship, child in arm, making his way through the trees that were beginning to bloom, now that the threat of war no longer loomed over them.

“Mando, welcome back!” The governor exclaims grasping the Mandalorians arm in his

“Is Ashoka here?”

“Yes, I’ll take you to her.”

“Hello again” she says, removing her eyes from the documents spread across her desk

“I need a favour.” He states bluntly “There are only a few people I trust to care for him, one is coming with me the other is being held captive”

“So that leaves me, I’m flattered and happy to take him for a short while” she takes the child gently rocking him back and forth.

“Thank you. Be good.” he says, pointing a stern finger at Grogu “You should watch your valuables and any food you're saving” Din finishes before striding back down the hallway.

“The person who you seek” Ashoka's voice rings out, stopping him dead in his tracks. “she is powerful”

“I know, she’s like you” He turns in time to see a notable look of seriousness spread across her face.

“In more ways than one, I offer you a word of warning. She is an asset no doubt, but she has suffered, and those who have known pain are often targeted by sinister forces especially when they are powerful. They have targeted her already, they will find her and try and claim her as their own.”

“How do I stop them”

“You can’t.”

“What can you tell me about her?”

“I cannot tell you anything, you can hope in time she will reveal herself to you, but do not hold your breath, it may never happen and that may be for the best. I do not tell you this to frighten you but to make you aware of the situation you are now deeply entrenched in.” The Mandalorian nods before returning the way he came.

Deep Space, unknown coordinates

“So who exactly are we getting? Whose so special they deserve a saving from you?” Cara asks, slouching down in the passenger seat.

“She saved me twice, I can’t leave her with the empire.” Realises his mistake the second he says it.

“Oh so it’s a she,” Cara says, drawing out the last word. “ You know for a guy with no face you certainly get around”

“It’s not like that” he answers, only causing her to press for more information akin to a dog with a bone.

“Oh I’m sure, so who is it this time?”

“You remember that bounty we got months back?” he says fiddling with various gadgets. “Vryssa” he adds hoping he doesn’t have to expand.

“Oh” Cara says slightly taken aback “the hot one with the bow and arrow who spat in your face?”

“That’s the one,” he says smiling under the helmet.

She lets out a low whistle “Good for you, I mean I don’t know what you look like under there but she’s gotta be out of your league.”

“It’s not like that,” he says.

“What? Am I embarrassing you?” she laughs. “Fine, I'll stop. I’m happy for you Mando, better get an invite to the wedding. Can you even get married?” Seeing she may have pushed her limits she continued “Alright, aright just joking so what’s the plan.”Leading Cara down the ladder into the mainspace of the ship a door opens revealing a single storm trooper uniform.

“I land the ship here. There's a hatch that leads into a storage closet where you, in the uniform, will drop down. The prisons are located on the third floor,and my guess she’ll be kept in maximum security, so by the end of the hall, here, on the far left. I’ll get the doors open, you get her out.”

“You don’t want to be the one to swoop in and save her?” Cara replies “Just asking,” she finishes raising her hands up in the air.

Your eyes open upon hearing the ringing of blaster shots reverberating throughout the hollow walkways. More infighting you suppose, letting out a deep sigh and closing your eyes hoping to get a moment's peace before your next, and quite possibly last, interrogation. Not a moment after you hear the familiar metallic screech as your cell doors open. You sit up shifting back into the wall and bringing your knees to your chest. Only one trooper? This was your chance, you could take a single trooper in your sleep, your eyes glance back to the trooper, as you formulate your next move. Move. Why hadn’t it moved? Where was the shocker? Why was the armour slightly malfitted. It couldn’t be. Could it?

“Aren’t you a little tall for a stormtrooper?” You ask, as its hands go up to the helmets side.

“Cara Dune,” you exhale, not exactly who you were expecting, but who you were to complain “nice to not be on the receiving end of your force” you say as she frees your hands and pulls you up.

“Can you walk?” you nod “Heard you’re a mean shot” she says handing you a blaster and redonning the trooper helmet. You’re following her out the door when you feel your knees go.

“Shit” Cara mutters, hooking your armpits and stopping you from eating it.

“I’m fine just give me a sec.” you say slapping your thighs to try and get the blood rolling.

“Ya you sure seem fine am I gonna have to carry you out?”

“If I said maybe would that be convincing enough for you.” she shoots you a look “I'm only partially joking, alright feeling reinstated lets go before they give out again.” You follow behind her shooting down the few troopers in your path.

You're almost to the ship when a mechanical voice stops you both.

“State your business with prisoner 26758��� the droid asks.

“Prisoners 26758 is being moved for questioning” Cara says without hesitation. It looks at her then to you before turning around and continuing on its way. She exhales cutting the tension in the surrounding air. You proceed hastily through the ship ducking behind spare parts as employees walk by, until you reach a storage closet.

“Really?” you ask

“Really.” she parrots back to you opening the door as you squeeze into the closet's confined space. Once the doors closed she interlocks her fingers, boosting you up through a hatch where an unmistakable arm reaches down. You latch onto it with both hands and it pulls you up with familiar ease. With your feet back on solid ground you finally look up into the dark glass of the visor obscuring your saviours face.

“You came back?” you say unblinking, not wanting to break your gaze afraid this was nothing more than a fever dream.

“I said I would,” he responds, still holding your hand in his.

“There’s time for this later, let’s get a move on.” Cara, says pushing between you and the Mandalorian, causing a flushed feeling to rush over your body as you quickly drop his hand. You hobble over to the cockpits entrance where Cara had recently disappeared up into. You wince as your arms reach for the ladder, but before you can heave yourself up you feel two large hands around your waist. Din lifts you gently up to Cara who hooks her arms under yours pulling you up so your legs are dangling on the precipice.

“Where’s the kid?” you ask, as Din ascends.

“You think I’d bring him here” he says, gently helping you settle into the passenger seat. “They're safe, don't worry. Get some rest” he says “we’ll be there soon”

Corvus, Outer Rim

Cara helps you out onto the soft grass covering the planet's floor watching as a woman appears from the walls guarding a small city. She moves towards reaching her hand up causing you to flinch. She pauses for a moment before removing your hood.

“You look just like her.” She says smiling.

“Like who?” you ask.

“Your mother. I knew her back, before the temple when she... I'm sorry I couldn’t do more.” Ahsoka says allowing a silence to hang in the air as she hands Grogu back to the Mandalorian.

“It wasn’t your fault, from what my grandmother said there was no stopping him once the Sith took hold.”

“I'm sorry about your grandmother, I felt her leave not too long ago”

“Thank you” you say, taking her hands in yours.

“I have something for you” she gestures for you to follow her back into the city’s walls.

Din takes a step forward but Cara places a hand on his arm shaking her head.

“I don't think we're on the invite list for this one, c’mon i'll let you beat me in a arm wrestling match.”

“If we may speak frankly...” Ashoka starts once in her office “The item in this box is no toy, it must not fall into the wrong hands. You have been having nightmares?” She asks, turning to face you, as you nod eyes darting away from her gaze “You must be careful who you let into your head from now on. Once they’re in it's hard to get them out. They will be looking for you.”

“Who?” you ask, taking a cautious step towards her.

“They will not stop, they are dangerous, ruthless and extremely persuasive, they can turn even the best. The path you walk is unclear, foggy, there will come a time that a choice must be made, and if you do not make it yourself they will make it for you.” She runs a hand over a small wooden box lightly wiping away the gathering dust. “This belonged to your mother, I found it when I returned to the temple, she would have wanted you to have it.” Its weight takes you by surprise. Sliding the slotted lid open an unmistakable cylinder sits atop a deep blue fabric.

“A lightsaber” you whisper brows knitted in disbelief. “ I’m not, I don’t know how” you say, extending the box back out to her hoping she’d take it back.

“Your training over the years means you know how to use it.” She says placing the box down, taking out the sabers hilt and offering it back to you. You press down on the button and as you release it a faint purple light shoots out, emitting a dull buzz. Ashoka was right, you did know how to use it, all those years maneuvering around the woods with a wooden staff had paid off in the end.

“She was one of the best teachers, your grandmother. You’re a testament to that. You have a strong connection to the force and an even deeper understanding and respect for it.” You close the saber looking back over to the jedi master whose smile has faded.

“There are worse things in this galaxy than crime lords and ex troopers, something is brewing deep below, I know you’ve felt it too. This saber will protect you when you need it most. Continue your training, but keep an eye on your emotions, I do not know the relationship you share with those who came to your aid but do not let the roots grow too deep. It can have devastating consequences. To be a Jedi is to be alone” she squeezes your arm gently as your eyes finally meet hers, finding a semblance of similarity and understanding in them. Her words weigh heavy on you as you return back to the ship's entrance way where Din and Cara were wrestling. Anya spots you first and rushes over to you, you bend over scratching her ears. Grogu, noticing Anya leave, peels himself away from the fight and makes his way over to you whining loudly.

“Is no one paying you any attention?” you coo down to him and he responds with a gurgle “the nerve.” you say shaking your head causing him to giggle, as you pick him up.

“Your mother was probably teaching young Grogu here at some point.” Ashoka says loud enough to stop the all out war happening behind you.

“I don’t remember him, or her really.” You say as Grogu grabs at a loose strand of hair.

“Well he remembers you, or he thinks that you're your mother.” She reopens the wood box and you place the saber back inside, handing it to you once it's closed.

“Is that a lightsaber?” Cara asks, eyes wide, as she approaches, brushing dirt off herself. “You can pay me with that,” she says, turning back to look up at the Mandalorian who's fixated on you.

“Where will you go, now the empire is looking for you all?” Ashoka asks, noting the apparent fondness shared amongst the small motley crew.

“Hoth for now, hasn’t seen humans in a while good place to hide out with all the abandoned bases. Hopefully the camouflage technology is still in place.” Din says.

“And too cold for any reasonable people to venture to,” Cara says.

“Not exactly the retirement I had in mind.” you mutter, but at least it was better than the funeral you were planning earlier that day.

“Wasn’t sure we’d ever find you.” Cara says as the ship reaches deep space, her chair swiveling around to face you

“Glad you did.” You say looking up blinking slowly, as a yawn escapes your lips.

“Sure made our jobs harder, had to try to escape didn’t you.” She pats you lightly on the shoulder as she drops down to the lower level.

“Thought I was on my own you” you call down to her laughing.

“Not anymore” Dins' voice cuts in, causing you to scrunch up your mouth in an attempt to hide the smile that was forming.

“Thank you, for coming back, a few more days and I think there’d be no blood left in my body the way they were siphoning it.”

“Kid wouldn’t stop crying” he offers

“Well I'll be sure to thank him. Guess we're all squared up then, end of the line now the kid’s back?” you say.

“Doesn't have to be, besides you should wait until you’re healed up and we may need that saber if anyone shows up for the kid before we can get him to a Jedi.” He says realizing he’d thrown every excuse in the book for you to stay with them.

“Guess you’re right” you say, happy that the Mandalorian wanted you around, even if it was just for childcare

“Usually am” he responds, causing you to roll your eyes and shake your head, resting it back against the chair and allowing your eyes to close. As you doze off you hope when you wake you wouldn’t find yourself back in a cell.

[hoodwinkd1]

the stars that shine - Ch 3

Ch 2 here.

Chapter 3: I was sixteen when suddenly

“Excuse me, esteemed guests,” the herald called out. “A toast, from Queen Mother Georgina.”

The room silenced quickly, people putting down their dessert forks and picking up their flutes.

Hollin watched his mother rise, fixing her skirts and simpering at the crowd. “My dearest friends, thank you all so much for joining us for such a wonderful evening to celebrate Adarlan’s future.”

They couldn’t all be her dearest friends, could they? Considering Hollin didn’t recognize over half the faces, he highly doubted it.

“The fall harvest has produced more bounty than anyone predicted, so tonight is to celebrate the hard work of our farmers and all those who financially support them.” She paused for a moment, allowing light applause to flutter through the room.

He caught Dorian’s eye. Although the King looked engaged and supportive externally, Hollin could read the boredom oozing from him. They shared a look, both thinking that this dinner couldn’t celebrate farmers if none had been invited.

“And of course,” Georgina continued. “Tonight is celebrating my son as well. Happy birthday, Hollin. May this year provide even more success for you and the kingdom.”

She raised her glass against his, then sat down.

“Thank you,” he muttered, taking a large sip of champagne. “The dinner is...lovely.”

His mother preened. “Oh, of course my dear. Anything for your sixteenth.” She sighed and drank half her glass. “I cannot believe how grown up the two of you are. I remember, oh it feels like yesterday, when you first rode a horse--”

Her closest courtiers leaned in to hear the story, right as Hollin tuned her voice out. Only one glass, and he could sneak off while pretending to “work the room.”

Luckily, Dorian jumped in as soon as the story ended with him falling on a stable boy. “Hollin, would you join me? I spotted some people I should greet.”

His brother had been more supportive than usual in the past two year. After Hollin had begun his training, with a mortifying first lesson, Dorian had quietly stepped in to help. Although the two of them lacked the easy conversation between many siblings, they had come to some sort of arrangement. Hollin could find Dorian whenever he felt overwhelmed, without fearing judgment or scorn.

“Do you think she’s ever met a farmer?” Hollin wondered, as they navigated past tables. “Actually spoken to one before?”

Dorian chuckled. “I always forget how sheltered she’s been as Queen. Even during the damn war, Mother was too far away to interact with any soldiers or common people.”

“So was I.” The words flew out of Hollin’s mouth before he could think.

Dorian stopped walking. “What? You were a child.” He turned his head sharply. “Hollin, you can’t possibly feel guilty for-”

“Your Highnesses!” A family approached them. Hollin recognized the parents as Ladies Bernice and Nerissa Finnick, who oversaw much of the sea commerce in Rifthold, leading three of their children towards the princes.

Nerissa reached out a deep bronze hand. “Excuse the interruption. If you have a moment, Your Majesty, I would like to request a meeting for next week.”

Dorian took her hand and smiled warmly. “Of course. Hollin, have you met the Finnicks yet?”

Maybe his brother didn’t have his back all the time.

“Yes, Anya and I have had some classes together.” He nodded at the middle daughter.

Anya stepped forward as the adults began some boring conversation. “These are my brothers, Galen and Sebastian.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hollin responded, shaking both of their hands. He hated the formality these parties required, since most of his peers treated him quite casually in other settings. “Are you enjoying the evening?”

Galen smiled. “The food was excellent, so I can’t complain.” Hollin had to glance up to look at him, the whole family annoying tall, tan, and beautiful.

“Have you heard any news from Terrasen?” Anya asked. “From Evangeline?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer her question, whether she simply meant to further the conversation or if she wanted a certain piece of information. “Nothing...particular, but the royal family seems to be doing well.”

“Ah, well. I’ve written to her a few times, but she hadn’t mentioned any plans to return. We all miss her so much,” Anya sighed.

Oh. Apparently everyone on this damn planet loved Evangeline and expected them to be best friends.

“I’m sure she knows she’s welcome here anytime.” Hollin took a step back. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few more guests to greet.”

He was lying, of course. Hollin snuck into the kitchens as soon as he maneuvered past prying eyes, content to finish the evening with another round of dessert and absolutely no more niceties.

---

Thick snow layered Orynth, as it always did in late winter, but the dining room inside the palace was downright toasty. Evangeline’s gaze kept catching on the massive window across from her, the white powder falling down in countless patterns and twists.

“Excuse me, Queen speaking!” Aelin called out, tapping a knife against her champagne flute to command everyone’s attention. “I’d like to make a toast.”

Evangeline started at the interruption, turning away from the snowfall, as Lysandra rolled her eyes from the seat next to her. “Just keep it brief, Galanthynius. Today isn’t about you.”

Aelin pouted for a moment, garnering laughs from the table, then shrugged her shoulders. “Fair point.” The two women shared a grin before she turned to face the larger group.

“Today is about two of my favorite people,” she began. “Lysandra and Evangeline, I am incredibly happy that we all came together to celebrate such happy news.”

Aedion leaned across the table and caught Rowan’s eye. “‘Two of my favorite people’ and we aren’t even included? Pure misandry,” he muttered. The silver-haired Fae chuckled lightly.

“Exactly,” Aelin shot back. “Now hush, male. Eva, even with the most chaotic group of parental figures, has managed to grow into one of the kindest, wisest, and most genuine young women I have ever met. I hope this year brings you joy and fancy jewelry, both of which you deserve plenty of. Happy sixteenth birthday, my darling.”

Evangeline blew her aunt a kiss. She couldn’t put into words what this entire evening meant to her, how unbelievable it was that the Queen and King of Terrasen hosted her birthday dinner. She glanced down the table, smiling at all of the family and friends that looked at her with such love in their eyes.

“Lys,” Aelin continued. “My best friend. You took care of me, and so many other people in this room, when we needed it most, giving you more than enough practice for this next chapter in your life. I think I might actually be more excited than Aedion for this baby.”

Aedion leaned back in his chair. “Not possibly, cousin.”

“Didn’t I already hush you?” Aelin scrunched her nose. Evangeline held back a giggle at their dynamic. “Anyway, I can’t wait to force Adara to befriend your child, just so we all have another excuse to spend time together. Cheers to these two beautiful women.”

“Cheers!” The whole table cried out, glasses clinking and liquid sloshing.

Lysandra tapped her glass of sparkling juice against Evangeline’s. “I’m a bit sad that you get to drink alcohol while I can't. I always imagined sneaking you liquor on a ladies’ night.”

Aedion put down his juice as well. The couple had agreed that if Lys couldn’t drink, neither of them could. “I always wanted to take her to one of the taverns in Rifthold. Watch little Eva drink her first ale while taking men for all their worth in cards.”

“I’m not that good,” Evangeline laughed. “And anyway, this is a very classy way to have my first, proper glass of alcohol.”

“Proper?” Rowan interjected, bouncing the crown princess on his leg. “Does that mean you’ve had an improper drink before?”

Aelin gasped. “My devious little angel”

“No!” Evangeline scrunched her nose. “I just meant, first drink beyond accidental sips and tasting it from your glasses. You’re all horrible.”

Aedion shrugged. “My first drink was when I was fourteen. Stepped off the battlefield and took a very large sip of something disgusting.”

Lysandra patted his knee affectionately. “That’s a terrible story. We probably all had bad experiences during our first time.”

“First time? Lys, you make it sound like something dirty,” Aelin teased. “My first time was quite romantic-”

“Really? Bringing him up at a nice dinner?” Rowan drawled. “In front of our child?”

Evangeline finally stopped trying to hold back her laughter and huge smile. She would miss this family, miss the ease and joy that came with every conversation during her next round of travels.

----

Evangeline all but threw herself onto the lavish bed, too exhausted to even consider taking a bath, though she most definitely needed one. Banjali might be the loveliest city she had ever seen, if not remarkably warm in the early springtime.

She had a week left in Eyllwe, with most of that time spent travelling. Aelin had pulled her aside before her visit, and asked her if she would be prepared for a visit to Calaculla to demonstrate Terrasen’s grief for the horrors committed there. Evangeline, of course, agreed to the detour.

As if to make up for the depressing finish to her stay, the Ytgers’ had ensured her time in the capital city was as happy as possible. The younger crown prince in particular put in the most time and effort to show her around the city. Evangeline didn’t mind, not when Deji was nice enough to look at.

She sat up at the sound of a sharp knock. “Time for dinner,” Fenrys announced from the other side.

“I haven’t had any time to change!” Evangeline protested, scrambling towards the vanity, eyes widening in shock at the state of her hair. “I thought we had an hour!”

She didn’t love that this trip was chaperoned, but Lysandra and Aedion had insisted. The ship would travel past Skulls Bay, a place where Aelin had apparently made more enemies than friends.

“We would have had an hour, if you didn’t stop for cake on the walk back.” Fenrys opened the door carefully. “Can I come into the sitting room?”

“Ugh!” Evangeline huffed, pulling her hair out of its braids. She walked over to the entrance of her bedchamber and slammed the door between them shut. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

She could hear him pacing around. “If we get any snide remarks for being late, I’m tattling on you to Aedion.”

Evangeline stuck her tongue out, although he couldn’t see her. She didn’t have time for a proper reply.

Seventeen minutes later, the two of them walked down to one of the smaller dining rooms. The Queen stood at the entrance, looking impeccable as always. Evangeline looked...passable, clothed in a fresh, crimson dress and golden hair somewhat brushed.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” she greeted. “I hope we aren’t late.”

The Queen waved her off. “Tonight is a rather small affair, do not fret. Lord Fenrys, I hope you don’t mind that we planned on separating the children from the adults tonight? The boys have a couple friends with them and they do hate it when we eavesdrop.”

Fenrys puffed his chest a bit at the use of his title. “Perfectly fine by me. Assuming you can handle yourself, Lady Evangeline?”

“Of course,” she responded, her polite tone at odds with the elbow she shoved into his side when the Queen turned to lead them in.

Kharis, the elder prince, walked up to them. “Good evening. May I escort you in?” He offered up his arm, which Evangeline took with one last wave to the adults.

He steered her towards another door that he opened to reveal a room with a much smaller table. She was met with four pairs of eyes, only one of which she recognized.

“This is Lady Evangeline, from Terrasen,” Kharis announced.

“Oh please, just Eva,” she insisted. “Pleased to meet you.”

One of the girls stepped forward. “I’m Athaliah, and these are my siblings, Jethro and Phebe.”

They all took their seats then, and luckily, conversation flowed easily. The three of them were not nobility, but their grandmother had served with the Queen’s father. Evangeline didn’t quite understand how he had managed to get his daughter on the throne after an alleged rebellion against the former King, but she didn’t think it polite to ask.

Phebe and Deji seemed to have some special connection, joking on a level that suggested intimacy. Evangeline forced herself to feel any sort of disappointment at their banter. Even if she thought he had flirted with her, nothing actually happened.

“Would you like a drink?” The boy of her thoughts interrupted the conversation Evangeline was currently having with Athaliah. “We nicked some spiced wine.”

“That sounds lovely,” she replied. Deji handed her a glass, seating himself next to her on the couch.

“Where will you go next?” Athaliah asked, continuing on. “Back to Terrasen?”

Evangeline nodded. “My ward, Lord Darrow, is expecting me back in a few weeks. We have some additional time, but quite honestly, I’m excited to sleep in a familiar bed again.”

“Our accommodations aren’t good enough for you?” Deji teased.

Evangeline scrunched her nose at him. “Of course not! But I am unaccustomed to this heat so early in the year.”

Jethro called for his sister, the others beginning to play a card game of sorts. She left them alone on the couches, Evangeline scrambling for something to keep the conversation going.

“Can I show you something?” he asked.

Perfect. “How far is this ‘something’?” Evangeline brought the glass to her lips, enjoying the slow buzz of the wine.

Deji stood, holding out his free hand. “Not far. I wouldn’t dare make you walk for too long in this heat.”

She followed him out of the room, down the hall, and towards a large balcony that she hadn’t noticed before. He held open the opaque doors, gesturing for her to step out first.

Evangeline let out a small gasp at the view. From this angle, the ocean seemed endless, and the moon looked close enough to touch. Large, swaying trees framed the water’s edge. The entire scene glittered with starlight, more real than a painting, yet more beautiful than real life.

“This is...unbelievable.”

Deji leaned against the stone railing. “It’s my favorite view, especially at night. I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t see and hear the ocean most days.”

Evangeline joined him on the railing. “You might have ruined me as well. I’ll miss this dearly back home.”

They glanced over each other at the same time, bringing a heated blush to her face. His skin was too dark to show it, but she prayed she wasn’t alone in this feeling.

“Can I kiss you?” she blurted out, then immediately covered her mouth with her free hand. Oh gods, she might as well fling herself from the balcony now. Evangeline wanted to blame the wine, but truthfully, one drink hadn’t clouded her judgement at all. “I’m so sorry, that was--”

Deji cut her off, grabbing her hand gently and holding it in his own. “I was afraid you were going to make me ask you.”

He leaned in then, pressing his lips against hers. Evangeline’s eyes fluttered shut, experimentally deepening the kiss and moving her mouth against his.

It was sweet, if not a bit clumsy and filled with nervous giggling. Everything a first kiss should be.

----

Dorian found him in the training ring, one morning. Hollin wanted to get reacquainted with walking up earlier, now that spring had arrived and the afternoons would soon be too warm for exercise.

"Do you need something?" he huffed, talking a second to chug some water. The endurance circuit was quite honestly kicking his ass.

His brother shrugged. "I feel bad that I didn't warn you last time, so I'm telling you in advance now. Evangeline and Fenrys Moonbeam will be staying in the palace for a few days on their way back from Eyllwe, arriving in one week."

Hollin spun on his heel, pretending to grab a towel to keep his face hidden. "It's a bit last minute for royal guests, isn't it?"

Dorian sighed. "They're dear friends, not courtiers. Perhaps we could do a more casual dinner, allow you the chance to get to know both of them better. I'm sure Fenrys would offer to train you a bit as well."

"Is that the purpose behind their visit? Give me training with a feared Fae warrior?" Hollin didn't cover the sarcasm in his tone.

"No, I believe Eva wanted to see her friends here, something she doesn't regularly get a chance to do. Are you done with the questions?"

"Yes. Fine. Whatever." He pushed himself up, abandoning the towel. A bath would do nicely for his aching muscles. "Add the required events to my schedule."

Dorian mumbled something under his breath, but thankfully turned to leave. Right before he re-entered the main hallway, he called out: "It wouldn't hurt you to have friends!"

"I have two!" Hollin called back. "Who needs more than that?"

[sableu3]

Day 50

100 Days of 100 Prompts 

 (Another fix it/time travel idea) Octavia ended up in the past after being sucked into the anomaly and Bellarke go after her. Bellamy wakes up on the dropship just as they land. He’s confused, kind of freaking out but still goes to the lever. The deja vu makes him turn to look for Clarke who had told him to stop the last time. His eyes found her right at the front of the crowd and he cocked his head at her. She grinned at him but still didn’t say anything and he felt his lips quirk up, “Not gonna say it this time?” He asked her. She shrugs at him and cheekily replies, “If the air’s toxic we’re all dead anyway, right?” He shakes his head in amusement and then hears Octavia call his name. He looks over to find her looking back and forth between him and Clarke but she doesn’t rush him in a hug like last time. He isn’t sure which version of his sister this is but tentatively asks, “You alright there O?” She smiles, “Just been waiting on you guys to finally show up. Bilaik yu biga bro?” ‘It is you big brother?’ She asked. “Sha, Strisis, bilaik ai.” ‘Yes, little sister, It’s me.’ With that she cried out in happiness and ran to hug him before looking over at Clarke. “Sha, ai seintaim.” ‘Yea, me too’ She said with a grin and Octavia launched herself into her arms too.  She might never have been very close with Clarke before but after being stuck in the past alone for so long, she’d take who she could get. Besides, she knew by now that where her brother went, Clarke would inevitably follow. Better her than the spy. Some kids tell them to hurry up and knock it off with the babble so O turns to put them in their place saying the line she used the first time and then Bellamy pulls the lever and O steps foot on Earth. Later they’ll try to figure out what happened, why the anomaly sent them here, how it’s possible. They’ll wonder if they can change anything and how that will affect the future. They are in their younger bodies so they don’t have to worry about erasing themselves out of the time line at least.   They argue a plan for days while getting the camp set up back to it’s previous ‘glory’. Bellamy uses his power of speech to get everyone motivated about being free and independent and they pretty much all fall in line. He keeps an eye on Murphy to stop him from being too big of a dick and has a talk with Charlotte. Clarke makes nice with Wells and stays well away from Finn. Octavia however just keeps watching the trees when she isn’t crafting a makeshift blade out of scrap metal. She’s waiting for any sign of Lincoln. They never attempt to go to mount weather. They stick to their area and only venture out to hunt, gather, and collect water. They get the supplies from the bunkers they already know about. They have plenty of guns and ammo this time after looking harder and finding the ones Kane said they missed. Clarke makes sure to grab the pencils and anything else useful from the ‘art supply store’ bunker as well. They still take off their wristbands to make sure Raven comes down but they use her radio to contact the ark asap. The culling never happens. Bellamy gives up every name he knows involved in the resistance. He says he wasn’t part of it, that they used him by holding his sister as bait and he was just trying to protect her. It gains him a pardon. Clarke tells her mom about the people in mount weather, how they are hostile. She pretends she saw them in suits with guns in the woods. She tells them about the grounders and how they are wary but not completely unreasonable. Perhaps she even tries to talk with them before that. She goes into the woods and says “Ai laik Klark kom Skaikru. Beja, teik ai gon oyo heda.” ‘I am Clarke of the Sky People. Please, take me to your leader.’ She gets dragged off to Anya who asks why she shouldn’t just kill her now and be done with it. Clarke will tell her she can help her against the mountain men, that she knows their tech and how to get around it, she can cure the reapers. Indra calls her a liar. Anya however looks like shes considering it but wants to know how Clarke knows so much, their language, their enemies, how to defeat them, after only being on the ground for so short a time. Clarke will tell her that she’ll explain once there is some mutual trust between them but for now it’s enough that she DOES know. Anya will ask why she should trust her and Clarke will shrug and say they haven’t attacked yet, despite the knowledge and weapons to do so, that she just wants to be allies, have peace between them. (Maybe try to figure out the translation for ‘I’d like to speak to your leader’ instead. ‘Eake me to your leader’ just reminds me of aliens lol) So they have a truce for now and Lexa might come down to assess them. Sydney and her shitheads are mostly taken care of. The ark will send the exodus which frees up some oxygen for the rest. They can survive a little longer now. They check radiation levels and figure out how much time they have till the death wave and start making plans. The oxygenator they found in the lighthouse wont work for the whole ark but it will definitively help. Should they even bother with the mountain at this point? Maybe they can make a deal with them since they don’t know about the death wave. They need grounders to survive, to filter the radiation they get exposed to at times but the grounders are all about to go underground themselves. So if the mountain takes in an equal number of Skaikru (so neither party has the upper hand and kills off the other) then Skaikru will donate blood/marrow for the living space for 5 years. There’s too much animosity with the grounders so it’d have to be Skaikru. There would also be plenty of Skaikru members left to help run the bunker in Polis. Perhaps Clarke even gets her mother to make night blood before coming down and injects it into the people willing to ride it out topside. They can stay in Becca’s lab for the wave itself and then make their way to the valley or just be in the valley to start with since Madi survived there just fine.  They could try to round up some animals to keep sheltered and see if they survive the radiation and gather up plenty of seeds or transplant things not in the area. They can get a nice village going, have enough people to free the polis bunker (after warning them of the soybean failure and giving them Monty’s algae recipe. Fuck omon gon oson) and be ready for when Eligius arrives. Clarke will go out with Bellamy and just shout ‘Welcome!’ at them while waving with a basket of food. She will look so inviting that Diyoza forces the others to lower their weapons as she goes to talk to her. (because im naive enough to believe that will work because everyone wants peace lol) Clarke and Bellamy will tell them they can stay if they behave, that this is a peaceful valley BUT jus drein jus daun. That means McCreary is gonna get killed real fast, along with a few other violent criminals. Perhaps Diyoza will even tell them who to keep an eye on because all she wants to do is raise her baby girl in peace and fuck the drama. Clarke and Bellamy are the unofficial leaders here. Lexa is still in Polis where some of the grounders and Skaikru have decided to remain and rebuild since they have the farm in the bunker and Monty’s algae for the soil. But, if Lexa never died then we don’t get Wonkru. Perhaps they stay traditional in the bunker with the different clans. But the valley would end up becoming wonkru, ironically. Perhaps thats one reason the others stick close to polis instead, they prefer the tradition of the clans and coalition to the more relaxed family feel of the valley. Though it’d be fun if Roan made an appearance, maybe he can retire down to the valley for a while. Anywho. Bellarke and Linctavia live HEA

[plainvanillapotato]

the 100 diaries S2 E5

quarantine diaries: may 28 2020

season 2 episode 5: “Human Trials”

i guess a mother always recognizes her daughter even through all that dirt. ngl i cant help but think about how much clarke stinks. Literally was in a pile of bodies and was covered in blood and mud. yet her mother is there hugging and kissing her. 

side note: what if clarke was just a salty bitch and the first thing she said to abby was ‘im still not talking to you. because do you remember when you killed dad?’ i would die  

i love how they are flipping this stereotype of mountain men as in you know how we generally associate mountain people/hillbilly’s as poor uneducated lower class citizens but in this show it’s the opposite. im pretty sure this wasn’t intentional tho. i just watch the documentary “hillbilly” it’s just been on my mind recently

wow kane be doing the important work out here planing a tree. rebuild the ecosystem. side note is climate change/global warming still an issue in this universe or nah?

clarke you just escaped mount weather, survived being hunted alive, survived that fight with anya, survived being shot at. all within a day?! you need to rest. but i guess if you have solar radiation blood you just operate at a different level

bellamy!!! with a new girl around his arm and wearing bellamy’s jacket

nvm. its back to bellamy and clarke. that hugg was like....ok i feel it. i feel the zutara energy. octavia even ships it. but her eye also be saying ‘bitch if you hurt him i swear...’

i swear if finn dies before reuniting with clarke. this show would tho. or like clarke find finn in his final moments

what tf are they doing to lincoln?!

why the hell is bryne in this meeting? is she not going to face any repercussions for shooting at two innocent kids one of whom she killed?! you cant just shoot and kill innocent people without facing consequences? (let me remind you abby was lashed 10 times for less) im not going to get deep into this rn because this blog was not meant for this stuff and i know this show takes place in a different time but with everything that is going on right now in the u.s. i just have to say that pulling out a gun and shooting a person should not be an automatic response and police abusing their power, abusing their authority is not okay.

bellamy bringing up some good points. fight abby! run away with clarke!!

now would have been a good time to bring up your father clarke but maybe shes just waiting to use that one.

raven is the real one with the guns and electrical fence. why was it so easy to escape the camp. like too easy.

maya causing a rift between monty and jaspers. noooo! did we not learn from what happened with Octavia?

maya and the radiation. a bit much. how does this show keep out doing themselves. scene after scene. just when you think that it is safe.

jasper really is a simp giving that blood. octavia? jasper doesnt know her. 

clarke’s face when bellamy told her that finn killed for her. she was like ‘wow. really. i love him more now.’ i know it wasnt meant to be taken this way but clarkes doey eyes don’t lie. 

finn really just threw some fire into the villages whole food supply. woah finn is going crazy here. he really just turned this into a hostage situation. i guess when you hang out with murphy you turn into murphy.

“this one is thoroughbred.” a thoroughbred of what? the British Royal Line? i swear if they tell me that lincoln is a descendant of queen Elizabeth ill die (if you’re wondering about my thought process on this...the best explanation i can give you are those memes about queen Elizabeth being immortal)

monty out here asking the right questions. monty straight up put his hands and sat down. staying right by his friend’s side. we stan a loyal king. monty really shined in this scene. you have to agree. this is my favorite moment of the show thus far.

abby slapped a one legged girl. abby she is a kid and you is an adult. yeah abby just lost some points in my book.

preach raven preach. yeah these kids loss their sense of innocence a looooong time ago. get with the program abby

jaha and kane reunited!! I guess my ship hasn’t been sunk yet. but also wasnt he just in the desert?

woooow this is full on hostage situation? is finn gonna go full anakin? and just embrace the dark side?

murphy suddenly a good guy?? 

now lincoln is a drugy? waht?

also what with the veins on these mountain people. please tell me they’re vampires and thats the real reason they don’t go to the outside in the sun. plus all the blood transfusions a bit suspicious if you ask me

aahh daddy. nepotism. fun fact about me absolutely no one asked for: “nepotism” is one of my favorite office episodes

but also that son be looking like he don’t listen to daddy. i swear the son is gonna turn on him. bet.

yep finn really killed kids and woman. this boy went full anakin. but i guess the writers be planting this plot point: spacewalker more like skywalker. yes this is a dumb theory but what if this is what the writers were actually thinking when they wrote finns character...

finn out did himself. i think he has highest body count out of all those from the 100. i think the real turning point in his character development was when he killed that reaper in the mines with clarke. it was right there and then that the knew he was willing to kill for clarke and hes not just gonna stop now. love really makes people do crazy things. big yikes when clarke caught him in the act. but ofc the show would have clarke appear 5 minutes finn goes ballistic. 

but also finn is joe from you. literally doing the most for the one he loves even tho his love never asked for any of it. and not feeling that bad about it. the boy literally massacred a village but the first thing he says to clarke is “i found you” ...yeah finn really did a 180 in the worst way possible

side note: to anyone who thinks im being hypocritical about bryne/the guard and finn. let me remind you that finn is a kid whose brain has not fully developed. he also has been through a lot shit since since being sent to earth so he is bound to be unstable. now im not saying that finn doesnt deserves any repercussions because believe me i do. i will get mad if he faces no consequences. but the fact of the matter is that byrne and the guard, people who are entrusted with power and authority cannot just abuse their power and authority shooting at random on the whim that anyone and anything is a threat.

[kloxbian]

To the Fire I Fall

Synopsis:      

Clarke has been confined her whole life. To the Ark, and then, to Arkadia.

She’s done being confined.

Or maybe it would have been better to stay confined instead of accidentally wandering into enemy territory.

-AU with a twist: Elemental powers!

Notes: IMPORTANT: Though this contains nothing sexual, the relationship between Clarke and Lexa contains some not-so-subtle dom/sub undertones. This is my first time joining in on clexa week, and I have to say I’m very proud of myself for doing this. I started this as soon as possible because forbidden love is my weakness and I was goddamn ready to get on with it despite the fact that I had five (six?) fics going on at the time. I will also be making a second chapter to this after clexa week. Despite my love of open endings, this one deserves a more closed-off, certain one.

-

 Ever since the Ark had fallen to Earth, Clarke had wanted to explore the world.

 But she couldn’t because the fucking grounders wouldn’t let them.

 The peace that was between Arkadia and the clans was… fragile. They had a treaty, but it was nothing more than ‘if you don’t bother us, we won’t bother you.’ There was a five-mile radius around Arkadia that the Trikru had generously gifted, but anything more was off-limits. The only people even allowed within the limits were the hunting parties and those that tended to the fields outside the fence.

 Their peace had held for the past year since it was brokered, and, with a bit of support during the cold season, it hadn’t wavered. Neither side wanted it to.

 Clarke didn’t want it to, either. But she at least wanted to explore their territory. Was that too much to ask?

 According to her mother, it was.

 So she did it herself.

 “Shit, I never realized the trees were so tall.”

 Well, not just herself.

 “Raven, we could see them from inside Arkadia. They’re only, like, fifty feet from the border.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Are they really that amazing?”

 “Yes! I mean, look! This trunk is wider than I am!”

 “Okay, you aren’t that fat.”

 Raven pouted and Clarke laughed. She hadn’t laughed until she reached the ground. Not after her father was murdered.

 “Ex-cuse you. I am sexier than you’ll ever be, bitch!”

 Clarke smiled widely at her friend’s antics but was more admiring the forest than listening to them. The forest was alive with birds singing, brush rustling as small animals moved within them, and it was a beauty Clarke had never experienced. The forest had such diversity, such color, it was more than she could ever have dreamed.

 “You still there, Clarke?” Octavia playfully knocked the side of her head, and Clarke smiled sheepishly.

 “Yeah. This is all just… beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 “Ha! See, I told you, Octavia!”

 “Shut up, Raven, that was not what you were telling me!”

 Clarke’s smile was more genuine than it had ever been, in the forest with two of her best friends. But they were loud, exuberant, and, dare she say it, obnoxious.

 So Clarke slipped off alone, her disappearance unnoticed by her bickering friends.

 As their voices faded into the background, Clarke closed her eyes and just breathed. The air was fresh and tasted sweet on her tongue, the sunlight beaming through the trees warming her face and shoulders, the soft breeze caressing her face. It was the most amazing thing she had ever and likely would ever experience.

 She wandered on, surrounded by the environment of the forest, for a long time. She knew she could walk on forever and it would never get any less exhilarating. 

 That was her last thought before she felt herself pulled against a body and cold metal press against her throat.

 She felt breath wash over her ear. “Look at this; a Skai girl on the wrong side of the border. Did you get lost, idiot child?”

 Clarke cursed internally. She was going to be in so much trouble when she got out of this.

 The knife moved away from her throat, hovering just in front of it. “Talk.”

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I intruded. I didn’t even know where the border was!” She pleaded, not even trying to escape from the woman’s strong grip.

 “You didn’t know?” The woman laughed harshly. “Branwada. You should have.”

 Clarke was about to retort before something hit her hard in the side of the head and her vision went black.

 -

 When Clarke wakes, she’s behind bars lying in the dirt.

 She’s alone. There are no guards, no sounds, no nothing. Clarke wonders where the other prisoners are if they have any. She’d been told the grounders don’t take prisoners, that all offenses are punishable by death. They say it so harshly, like it’s the most terrible thing, even though they had done the same thing on the Ark. She’d always hated how they talked of the clans like they were a virus to be exterminated. She hopes she won’t agree after this experience.

 If she survives the experience.

 She hears footsteps coming down the corridor and a grounder steps in front of her cell. He looks at her passively, speaking over his shoulder. “Honon ste stomba raun, Oneda (The prisoner is awake, General).”

 “Os. Bants osir. (Good. Leave us.)” A woman stepped past the guard, looking at Clarke with contempt. Clarke recognized the voice as the same woman that had captured her.

 “What’s going to happen to me?” Clarke asked, wincing at the sound of her raspy voice. “Are you going to kill me?”

 The woman tilted her head. “Why would I do that?”

 “Isn’t that what you do to your prisoners?”

She snorted. “Your leaders know nothing of us, yet they tell their people that we are savages. I shouldn’t have expected any more from such arrogant leaders.” The woman shook her head, leaning casually against the bars. “No. You will not be killed. We have no proof that your intrusion was anything more than an innocent mistake made from Skaikru ignorance.”

“So are you going to let me go?”

She was silent for a moment. “No. You still are an intruder. You broke the treaty.”

Clarke gasped. “Please don’t hurt them because of this. I didn’t know, I swear!”

The woman considered her. “You protect your people. I do not see many Skaikru willing to do that. Are you one of the leaders?”

Clarke was taken aback. “Of course not! I’m not even eighteen yet!”

“Does that mean you cannot be a leader?”

“You can’t be on the council unless you’re over twenty-five.” Clarke sighed. “To them, I’m still a child.”

The woman looked amused. “Your ways are… intriguing, to say the least. Though you are still very much irritating, you are more competent than most of your leaders.”

Clarke decided to take that as a compliment. 

“As for what will be done with you, I shall have to consider. You have broken the treaty accidentally, with no malicious intent. Not something fit for punishment, but to let you go free without repercussion would encourage more purposeful intrusions.”

The woman tilted her head thoughtfully. “You are an odd case. I will have to think this over, but I can assure you we will not kill you, and that you will, at some point, make it home.”

Clarke sighed. “Thank you…”

“I am General Anya. You will address me as General.” With those last words, Anya turned and said something to the guards in their language before striding out of the prisons. A guard brought a plate of food to her and then the entire prison cleared out.

Clarke groaned as she tasted the meat. Despite it being food they were feeding to a prisoner, it was the best meat she’d ever had. Sure, Arkadia had hunting parties who brought back meat, but it wasn’t nearly as good as this. She swiped her finger over the coating of flakes on top of the meat and figured it must be what old-world called ‘spices.’ She was thankful for such a good meal.

She settled against the wall at the back of the cell. Who knew how long she would be there for.

-

Clarke was awoken by two men grabbing either arm and hoisting her to her feet. She struggled. “Hey! Where am I going?”

“Quiet, honon,” a guard said, yanking roughly on her arm. 

Clarke hissed, getting a hold on the ground and walking between them instead of being dragged. Outside, Anya was waiting on a horse with four other guards mounted around her. Another horse, this one without a rider, stood next to Anya.

The guards tossed her onto the horse, and she scrambled to sit on it correctly. “Where are we going?”

Anya spared her barely a glance. “I am taking you to Heda. She will decide your fate.”

Clarke was confused. “Don’t the guards call you heda?”

“They call me Oneda. It means ‘under Heda.’ Heda is the commander.” Clarke paled. She’d heard stories of the commander, how he was a ruthless murderer who wanted complete and total control, though considering what she’d seen here, it probably wasn’t accurate. She hoped.

Anya told her how to ride in the least amount of words possible before they were off. This was the first time Clarke had actually seen the village and she couldn’t help but gape. It was nothing like the council had described. Nobody looked miserable or angry, they all looked happy. Children ran around chasing each other, some carrying fake swords that they would pretend to fight with. Stalls were set up with merchants, bartering goods. There was a large pavilion off to the side that had smoke running out the side from a fire in which smoked meat lay. The chef tossed spices over the top of it and handed it out to people in exchange for what looked like trinkets.

Anya gave her an amused look from over her shoulder. “We aren’t savages, skai girl, no matter what your ‘council’ told you.”

No, they weren’t. Everything Clarke had heard about the grounders has so far been proven wrong. These people didn’t look like heartless brutes. They looked like normal people. Sure, most were bigger and far more muscled and maybe they wore different clothes and spoke a different language. They are still the same in the end. Just people trying to find their way in the world their predecessors created around them. 

They passed through two large wooden gates that closed behind them and they went into the forest.

-

Only an hour in and Clarke’s legs were aching.

She’d never in her life ridden a horse. She’d heard of them, even seen a couple, but never came close, much less sit atop one. At first, it was nauseating, the swing of the horse’s steps swaying her back and forth, but she learned to let her hips swing with the rhythm, to move with it instead of against it. As long as she sat back and relaxed, everything was fine. Except for the fact that sitting like this for an hour was not so comfortable. Clarke couldn’t imagine doing this for the entire day, much less think about how the grounders were able to perform inexplicable stunts on them. Sitting and walking was one thing. Putting your trust in a two-ton creature that could crush you under its feet? Not so easy.

They rode for the rest of the day, stopping once in between for a slight rest before they were back on the path. They passed many other travelers, most merchants trying to sell their goods. Most seemed put off by her, and Clarke wondered if the grounders viewed Skaikru in the same way as Skaikru viewed them.

Clarke was relieved to be off of her horse. The mounts were tied up to a tree and the grounders set up tents, four of them, on flat, even ground.  When everyone had eaten and drank, two guards took up positions on either side of the camp and the others each took a tent. “Try anything, Skai girl, and the guards will not hesitate to knock you out,” Anya warned before she sent Clarke into one of the tents. She passed out the moment her head hit the pillow despite sleeping half the day.

The following day proceeded much the same. Nothing of note happened, and that night they set up the same way. Clarke grew more comfortable around the grounders, though she still didn’t trust any of them, and her thighs weren’t as sore as they were yesterday, much to her relief.

On the fourth day, they reached their destination. The first thing Clarke saw was a large tower sticking out of the trees, towering above them higher than anything she’d seen. As they grew closer, she could see that the tower stood in the center of a city, a city that stretched wide on all sides. The wall surrounding it was at least twice the size of Arkadia’s, perhaps more.

The people in the city were the most diverse she’d ever seen. People of all colors walked the streets, many waving politely to their small party. She saw people covered in tattoos like Trikru, people with scarred faces and pale skin, people with dark skin and braided hair, and many more. She couldn’t see into the stalls from where she was, but she couldn’t imagine what sorts of things they sold.

The tower, at the foot of it, reminded her of an old-world skyscraper. From the bottom, it was impossible to see the top, the many windows blurring together into fuzzy shapes.

Anya spoke softly yet harshly to her in the elevator, which Clarke was startled to discover worked. “The commander is not someone to take lightly. You will show Heda proper respect, and if you do not there will be severe punishment. Do not speak unless spoken to, but do not bow to Heda. This one, in particular, is not fond of the gesture.”

 Clarke fidgeted nervously as they stepped out of the elevator, staring at the large set of doors at the end of the hall. Four guards were positioned in front of it, large men with menacing spears obviously meant to intimidate. It worked.

 Their eyes fixed on her as she walked behind Anya, eyes on the ground. She heard the men knock twice on the doors before pushing them open. Anya walked in confidently with Clarke straggling behind her.

 She felt a new gaze on her, one much less harsh and more curious than the guards. “Heda, this skai girl invaded our territory just a few days earlier. She claims to have not known where the borders were.”

 “Is this true, Skai girl?” Clarke felt a jolt of surprise at the voice. She had expected a hard, masculine tone, harsh and rough, not this smooth yet demanding feminine one. She looked up for the first time since entering the room and laid her eyes upon the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.

 The commander lounged lazily on her throne, a knife spinning between her fingers. Her hair was a dark chocolate, slightly wavy and entwined with intricate braids. Her outfit was black leather, all padded and protected, with a large pauldron on her shoulder sporting a red sash. Her face was smooth and soft, her skin tanned nicely, yet her eyes were hard and serious. 

 Clarke dipped her head politely. “Yes, commander.”

 “Why were you unaware of the border? You should have known not to come close.”

 Clarke nodded. “Apologies, commander, but the Skaikru forbid anyone except the hunting parties and field tenders to leave the camp. That was the first day I’d been outside the walls since they were built. I hadn’t been aware I’d walked a full five miles.”

 A man was standing to the right of the commander, just behind the throne. His face was adorned with a permanent scowl. He scoffed. “These Skaikru are problematic, Heda, just like I told you they were. They are so inordinate they don’t even bother showing their people the rules. I say we drive them out.”

 “Shof op, Titus. If I want your opinion I will ask for it.” The commander looked back to Clarke, who suddenly felt so insignificant under her gaze. “So you went against your people’s laws to leave camp?”

 Clarke flushed red. “Yes,” she said sheepishly. “After being stuck in the Ark, and then Arkadia, we wanted to explore what was out there.”

 The commander raised an eyebrow. “We?”

 “Ah-yes,” she stuttered. “Two friends left with me. I separated from them and I expect they turned around before reaching the border if you haven’t seen them, or maybe were caught by our guards.”

 “I see.” The commander turned to Anya. “And why couldn’t you figure this out yourself?”

 “I was unsure of a fit punishment for the girl,” she replied. “Her crime is not her own fault but that of her people, though the only option is to punish her in some way to show that we will not tolerate trespassers.”

 The commander nodded. “You are right. Join me and my advisors for dinner tonight. We will discuss the matter then. For now, give this girl arrangements in a guest room. She is not a prisoner and I will not treat her as such, at least not until an outcome has been decided.” She signaled to the guards, who gestured for Clarke to go with them, though before she could, the bald man spoke up.

 “Wait.” All three hesitated, and the commander turned to him. He looked at her pleadingly. “Heda, she is a trespasser. We do not accommodate trespassers.”

 “And whose fault is it that she trespassed?”

 “It is her own, Heda! I beg of you, please consider the fact that she may be lying to gain information.”

 “I don’t believe she is,” Anya said. “I saw her when she crossed the border. She was not looking for any guards, much less expecting an attack. She truly did not know she crossed the border.”

 “You cannot be sure!” The man insisted. “For all we know, she is a spy! A deceiving woman feigning innocence to keep her in good favor!”

 “Titus, she is not-”

 “Enough!” The commander rose from her chair, throwing her arms out to the side. The braziers caught fire, the flames roaring up until they brushed the ceiling. Titus and Anya both froze. “We will settle this matter over dinner instead of arguing about it like children. Guards, take the girl to her rooms. Titus, Anya, remain.” Clarke looked at the commander fearfully, her piercing eyes boring right through her before the guards led her out of the throne room, the doors shutting behind them.

 -

 Clarke’s rooms were large, thrice the size of her old one on the Ark, even with her parent’s status on the council. She had an incredible view from the balcony, a comfortable fur bed instead of a hard cot, and, to her surprise, the drawers of the desk contained items in them. Most were simple, everyday things, nothing you would think twice about, but Clarke was surprised and delighted to find out they had paper and charcoal. They had practically none at Arkadia, and the resources on the Ark were scarce. She wondered how plentiful paper was to the grounders. They must have a lot if they would leave it laying in a guest room like this.

 And so Clarke drew. The first thing she drew was Polis. It was grander than any city she’d seen, with the tower looming in the middle, a flame perched precariously atop it. She sketched it out and shaded it enough to form shape and distinction before she itched to move to something else. There were so many things to draw, she was impatient to get them all out. She’d finish that one later.

 To her surprise, time passed quickly. By the time the guards brought in her dinner, she’d sketched out a picture of the forest, of a horse, and was in the middle of sketching the intricate throne she’d seen the commander sitting upon. The meal smelled heavenly, and she wolfed down the smoked meat and deliciously seasoned corn. If this was what she got to eat here, she’d happily stay a while.

 After her meal, she finished her sketch of the throne and was trying to decide on what to draw next when the doors opened. She looked up from where she sat at the table to see the commander walking in. Her pauldron was gone, but the red ribbons twined into her hair still marked her as the commander. 

 Clarke stood up, brushing her drawings to the side. “Commander,” she said, inclining her head politely.

 “We have come to a decision about your fate,” she said, skipping over pleasantries. “You are allowed to leave whenever you wish to return to your people with no punishment. However,” she paused, “you will deliver the message that any skaikru caught beyond the border, accidental or not, will be punished accordingly by my people.”

 Clarke tilted her head. “Punished accordingly?”

 “If it was a misunderstanding or curious children, the worst they would face might be captivity for some time or maybe working as an indentured servant, if the crime was so bad. If we have reason to believe they had malicious intent, they will be killed.”

 Clarke was a bit startled by her casual stance on such a thing but nodded. “Of course. I will tell our leaders when I return.”

 “And when will you return?”

 Clarke was surprised. “I get a choice?”

 “Yes. You are my guest for the time you remain at Polis. You may leave whenever you wish.”

 She blinked, staying silent for a minute. “Can I stay a few more days?”

 “If that is what you wish.” The commander walked over to her, looking down at her drawings before nodding to the couch. “May I?”

 Clarke shifted over, allowing the Commander to sit with a few feet of space between them. The commander dragged one of her drawings over to look at, speaking without looking up. “Can I ask why you wish to stay instead of return to your people?”

 She had to take a moment to process the question. “Um, yeah. I guess I just want to be somewhere new. As I told you, I’ve never left Arkadia since we came to Earth.”

 The commander looked disturbed by that. “Not even once? You never explored the trees around your home?”

 “Never. Unless you were hunting or gathering materials or some other task, you were forbidden from going past the treeline.”

 The commander pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You were forbidden to explore the trees despite that you had grown up in a metal box your entire life.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Well, I cannot say I pity you at all,” she replied. “I would much despair at such a life. It’s a wonder no one else has wandered out of your camp.”

 “Security’s tight. It’s hard to leave without getting noticed.”

 “Then how did you?”

 Clarke shrugged. “One of my friends helped design the fence around Arkadia. She knew all the loopholes.”

 The commander still looked a bit confused. “I’ve been told your fence is nothing more than wires. I do not understand how hard it could be to leave.”

 Clarke hesitated at this. If she told the commander the strength of their fences, it was possible she’d use that against them. Then again, from what Clarke had seen, the commander had no intention of attacking. Even so, the grounders were likely strong enough to bring down the fence anyway. “The fence is electric. If you touch the wires, you’ll get shocked with a hundred volts at about a fifteen hundred milliamps.”

 The commander looked even more confused. “I do not know what any of that means.”

 “Oh. Right. If you touched it, it would hurt. A lot.”

 She raised an eyebrow. “Would it?”

 “Yeah. I know your warriors are tough and all, but trust me, they would definitely feel it.”

 “If you say so.” The commander had tugged a couple more of Clarke’s sketches over to look at. “Would you mind if I asked about your life on your ‘Ark’? I find such a life hard to understand.”

 “Uh, sure.” Clarke fidgeted in place. Though this woman couldn’t be much older than herself, she radiated an aura of power that made Clarke want to bend to her every command. It was no wonder she was the leader around here.

 “Your ‘ship’ was in the sky for over a hundred years. How did it stay afloat?”

 “Oh, um, well, up in space, there isn’t any gravity, which basically means there’s nothing pulling you toward the ground. The problem with space is that there isn’t any oxygen, so if you leave the ship without a suit, you’d die.”

 “Like the maunon,” the commander muttered. 

 “The mountain men? Exactly like that.” Clarke leaned back against the cushions and sighed, memories flashing through her mind. “We had no dirt to grow our food in and no animals to get meat from, so everything was artificial. It all tasted bland. Even the water felt impure.”

 “How do you get meat without animals?”

 Clarke shrugged. “I have no idea how they did it, but they used the plants that they grew in this odd kind-of-dirt material to make it into something like meat. It was terrible, but it worked.” Memories of her first taste of real meat came back to her. “The half-raw rabbit we ate our first day was the best thing I’d ever had.”

 The commander had a look of disgust on her face, and Clarke couldn’t blame her. The food an average grounder ate was a million times better than what the Ark had made. “What made your people come to the ground if you were surviving in ‘space’?”

 “We were running out of air. When the Ark first launched from Earth, it was packed with a ton of oxygen, enough to last for centuries, but after living in it for two hundred years it began to run out, and so we had to leave. We didn’t even know if we’d survive on the ground, but likely death is better than certain death.” Clarke remembered feeling terrified as the Exodus ships launched, blasting them to the ground with no assurance of even making it down alive. She shuddered at the thought.

 The commander hummed and was about to ask another question before there was a knock at the door. “Heda?”

 She looked up sharply. “Chit ste em yu gaf (what is it you need)?”

` “Bandrona kom yujleda gada don kom op. Em seiso hit kom yu taim na kom au (An ambassador from Yujleda has arrived. She asked to meet with you as soon as possible).” 

 The commander nodded, standing from the couch. “I appreciate the knowledge you’ve given me and hope you will feel welcome for the next couple of days. Have a good night, skai girl.”

 “Clarke.”

 She turned back around, her eyebrows furrowing, and Clarke noticed just how bright of green her eyes were. “What?”

 “You keep calling me sky girl,” she said. “My name’s Clarke.”

 The commander nodded. “And I am Leksa kom Trikru, though, as is protocol, you must call me commander, or simply Heda.” She went to leave but paused a moment. “Would you mind if I came back around this time tomorrow?”

 That wasn’t something Clarke was expecting. “Uh, sure, if you want.”

 “Good. You’re a very interesting person, Klark kom Skaikru. I do hope you realize that.” With that final statement, she pulled open a door and left.

 Clarke was left wondering if a person could be any more confusing.

 -

 Despite being alone in her room the entire next day, Clarke enjoyed her day. She cleaned up her drawings from the night before and began new ones, sitting on the balcony outside and drawing Polis from an above angle. She’d snagged some books from a dusty shelf in the corner, most in the grounder language but a couple of old-world books tucked in among them. She’d picked out something that was described as a ‘sci-fi thriller’ and began to read that.

 The food was even better than she’d had previously. A steak of meat, wheat biscuit, a collection of fruits, and a goblet of light wine with her dinner. She’d never had alcohol, wasn’t allowed to at Arkadia, but it was slight enough that she wasn’t bothered.

 True to her word, Lexa knocked on her doors about an hour after dinner. Clarke let her in and they sat down as they had the night before.

 “Klark. How was your day?” Lexa began, stretching her arms over the top of the couch. Clarke ignored the fact that her hand was close enough to brush her shoulder.

 “It was good. Not much to do in a single room, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. We don’t have actual paper at Arkadia, so I’m grateful for that.”

 “I’m glad,” Lexa said. “If you’d like tomorrow, you may explore the city. The guards will accompany you, assist you if necessary, but they will not bother you. Do not feel as if you must remain in your room your entire stay. If you ever need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

 Clarke blinked. “I appreciate your kindness, Commander.”

 “You are my guest. I will not have you restricted like a prisoner.”

 Clarke didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

 Lexa nodded toward her papers. “You said you had no paper at Arkadia. If you did not have any, how do you draw so well?”

 “We had chalk up on the Ark, and my dad, being an engineer, had charcoal that he used to teach me. I learned from him. Down here, we don’t have anything. I haven’t been able to really draw in months.” She fingered the charcoal, rolling it until a fine black coat covered her fingertips. “It’s refreshing to be able to draw again.”

 “If you’d like, I can have some of our watercolors brought here for you.”

 “Watercolors? You mean colors I can draw with?” Clarke had seen such pictures in books, paintings done in all shades of the rainbow, colors she wished she could replicate. “You have those?”

 “Yes. They are a form of dye mixed with water. Fairly easy to make, if you know what types of plants produce what color.” The corners of Lexa’s lips twitched up as she watched Clarke’s face morph into a mixture of awe and excitement. “I shall have them brought to you tomorrow.”

 “I- would love that. Thank you,” Clarke breathed, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

 Lexa scanned over the room. “I see you found the books.”

 “Yeah. Most are in- whatever language you speak, but a couple are in English.”

 “I have not practiced my Gonasleng reading in a while,” Lexa mused, tugging the book Clarke had been reading to her and flipping it open to a random page. The sun was setting beneath the horizon and darkening the corners of the room enough that reading the words on the page was impossible. With a flick of her wrist, Lexa had all the candles in the room alight with their tiny flames.

 Clarke yelped at the sudden burst of light and Lexa gave her an odd look. “Are you alright?”

 “What-how-” she took a moment, breathing in deeply. “How the hell did you just do that?”

 “You mean light the candles, yes?” She nodded. Lexa seemed just as confused as she was. “I summoned the flames. Do you not have fayahakas (fire-makers) in Arkadia?”

 “You summoned them?” Clarke had to stop a minute, reining in her mind. “You can summon fire?”

 “Yes.”

 “Can everyone summon fire?”

 “Of course not,” Lexa said, her eyebrows furrowed inquisitively. “Only the strongest control fire. The others control weaker elements.”

 “Hold on, let me get this straight,” Clarke said. “Your people can control elements.”

 “Yes. Yours cannot?”

 “No! I’ve never even heard of such a thing!” She exhaled heavily. “What about your general? Anya? What does she control?”

 “Anya is a graunhaka. She controls the earth beneath our feet.” Lexa tilted her head. “You have no keryonakas? None at all?”

 “If you mean people that can control stuff like earth and fire, no, we don’t. Everyone can control elements?”

 “Yes. It is something you are born with. Children are taught to harness their powers at a young age.”

 “Harness their powers,” Clarke muttered. “Do you think we would be able to if we were taught how?”

 “It is possible,” Lexa said. “Do you wish to try?”

 “I- yes, I would. Hell yes.”

 Lexa looked her up and down, taking her in, and nodded. “Okay. We begin tomorrow.”

 “Wait, really? What’s going to happen?”

 “I will complete my duties as Heda and collect you after I have finished training with the natblidas, likely mid-afternoon. I will by then have chosen a place to go.” Lexa twitched her wrist, the flames from a single candle flowing to her and twirling around her finger. “Keryonak is not something to be treated lightly. A single mistake can be lethal to the controller or those around them. You must enter this seriously. Do you swear to do so?”

 Clarke wasn’t sure she could say no even if she tried, with those eyes boring down on her. “I swear.”

 “Good. Be ready tomorrow.” Lexa stood, her fingers brushing lightly over Clarke’s shoulder as she retracted her arms. “I will have the colors delivered to your room tomorrow morning, as promised.”

 The watercolors. Clarke had forgotten about those. The excitement over such a thing was overshadowed by the idea of the grounders being some sort of magic. She dipped her head politely. “Good night, Heda.”

 “Reshop, Klark.” 

 -

 Lexa knocked on her door exactly when she’d promised she would.

 “I will be taking you to a remote location just outside of Polis,” Lexa said as she led Clarke to the elevator at the end of the hallway. “There are still many who are opposed to keeping Skaikru alive and would not appreciate me revealing our powers of keryonak. We will be taking one of the lesser-traveled roads to one of the side gates. Try not to draw attention to yourself.”

 Lexa turned out to be a hypocrite. She drew enough attention for both of them. 

 Clarke was in awe at how much the people revered her. Many came up to them offering Lexa their praises, gifts, or asking for a blessing. At one point, a small child of no more than five ran up to them and tugged on the side of Lexa’s coat. “Yu krei meizen, Heda. En yuj. Ai gaf  ge belaik yu (You’re very pretty, Commander. And strong. I want to be strong like you)!” Lexa chuckled, ruffling his hair and whispering promises in his ear before sending him away. Her tenderness with the child did nothing but boost Clarke’s respect for her.

 Their guards stopped at the side gates, joining the other gatekeepers as Lexa continued into the forest. She took the time to admire the scenery around them, not much different from the woods they’d traveled through to get to Polis, but still breathtakingly beautiful nonetheless. She noted the small smile on Lexa’s face when she looked back at her. “The trees amaze you.”

 “Yeah, they do.” Clarke did not need to explain why. Lexa already knew.

 “You will have time to admire them later. We are here.” They had only walked for maybe five minutes and now emerged into a small clearing, looking as if it had been created by man rather than naturally. There were racks of wooden swords to the side and thick lines traced in the dirt, forming a small arena.

 “Working with the spirit powers is a delicate task. If you waver even slightly, you may lose your grasp, something which can be deadly when working with something such as fire,” Lexa said, drawing a line of fire out of thin air. “We will start small. Anything larger than the size of your palm is generally hard for anyone inexperienced to keep control of.”

 Clarke shifted, unable to keep still. “How do I know what I am?”

 “That is what we will figure out. All elements are usually an indicator of personality. Water is calm and soft but can turn deadly in an instant. Earth is a realist, someone who is firm in their beliefs and stubborn to the core. Storm is anger, people who are often unable to contain themselves. Fire is power, strength, a sign of great leadership. There has never been a commander who did not harness flames.” Lexa masterfully weaved tendrils of fire in and out, creating an intricate dance in the air. The sparks that came from then had Clarke taking a step back.

 Lexa pulled the flames back into her. “We will try each element until we find which one you are. Water, fire, and storm can all be summoned using the same basic method, so we shall begin there. Are you ready?” Clarke took a deep breath and nodded. As exciting as this was, it scared her. She didn’t let that put her down.

 Lexa began her instructions. “Draw the energy from the air. Feel the power around you, the spirit that chose you, and summon its power to you.  Imagine it clustering above your palm, hovering there, still and unmoving.” Lexa demonstrated, a small ball of fire forming above her open hand.

 Clarke did so and realized that she could feel something. The air around her seemed to hum, calling softly to her. “I can feel it.”

 “Good. Draw it to you.”

 Clarke tried to reach out, grasping for something she couldn’t reach. She tried tugging it closer, but it didn’t budge. “It isn’t coming. I can’t reach it.”

 “Don’t reach for it. Ask for it. Call it to you. Be gentle with it. Show it the respect it deserves.”

 She opened herself to the power, asking for it to come to her, treating it like she was coaxing a shy child. It edged closer to her, relenting to her requests and surrounding her in comfortable warmth. She urged it to gather in front of her, to form something solid.

 It all moved forward and drew itself together into a ball of power that the moment it formed exploded into a blast of searing light. She yelped, blinking quickly to regain her sight after the sudden blinding light. Lexa was a bit disoriented, staring in disbelief at her. 

 Clarke let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Did I… did I do it?”

 Lexa was silent for a moment, composing herself before answering. “You did… something.”

 “What do you mean? Did I do it wrong?”

 “No, no, you did everything right. It was perfect. It’s just-” Lexa took a deep breath, closing her eyes and rubbing at her temples as if she had a headache. “What you summoned was not as I expected. Not water, storm, fire, or earth.”

 Clarke couldn’t seem to grasp what that meant. “Them what did I summon?”

 “I believe,” Lexa said slowly, “that you have just unearthed an entirely new element.”

 -

 Clarke was hyperventilating. Lexa barely seemed able to contain her emotions.

 “What the hell do I do?” Clarke asked, her voice quiet. “This changes things, doesn’t it?”

 “Yes,” Lexa admitted. “Such a discovery has not been made since Bekka Pramheda. This is groundbreaking.”

 “Are you still going to let me go?”

 “I will not have you kept prisoner here,” Lexa insisted. “You have done nothing wrong. Though, I would ask of you to stay a bit longer after this.”

 “Why? What’s going to happen to me?”

 “I will have to inform my people. There are many who would want to harness your power themselves, to take you and claim you as their own. But we will not tell them yet.” Clarke stood straighter at that. “We do not even know exactly what this is. With your permission, I would like to start active lessons between you and me, working with your spirit. Discovering what it is and what it holds. I will not have them informed until after you are back within the safety of your own people.”

 Clarke felt a rush of sudden emotions toward the young commander, understanding just how much she had risked for her already. To house her even with the threat of others trying to kill her, to show her their secret powers, to train her in such powers, and now she was putting her life on the life to make sure she remained safe. “I cannot express how grateful I am to you for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you.”

 Lexa seemed a bit miffed at the sudden announcement but smiled back. “Of course, Clarke. The lessons?”

 “Oh!” As she could see it, Clarke had two options: accept the commander’s offer of teaching her more about her mysterious powers, or going home. The choice seemed obvious. “Of course. I’ll work with you.”

 “Good. Could you find your way back to the gates we exited through tomorrow without my guidance?” Clarke nodded. “Then I shall meet you there two candlemarks after noon.”

 “Candlemarks?”

 “Yes. I believe you call them ‘hours.’ Have you noticed the candles the handmaiden brings in when she delivers your food?”

 “You mean the ones with the nails in them? Yeah.”

 “When a nail falls, it strikes the hour. The maid arrives at eight, so the sixth nail would be two after noon. Do you think you can be here by then?”

 “I think so.”

 Lexa nodded. “Very well. We must return. I have a few more duties to attend to before dinner.”

 “Yeah, okay.” Clarke didn’t move to follow her, though, and Lexa turned to give her a confused look. Clarke focused around her, feeling the hum that somehow already felt familiar. This time she drew only a small bit, condensing it above her hand and forming a small glowing ball.

 Lexa rushed back toward her, stopping a foot away. She hesitantly reached forward, her hand going right through the ball. “Light,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You are a sonchaka.”

 “Light,” she repeated, trying to move the ball as Lexa had with her flame only for it to dissipate back into the air. The two women stood in silence for a moment, taking it all in.

 Lexa gripped Clarke’s shoulders roughly. “Tell no one. Not a soul. This cannot get out, do you understand?”

 “Yes, commander.”

 “Good.” Lexa let go, sighing heavily. “And please, call me Leksa.”

 Clarke froze mid-step. “But protocol-”

 “Is not necessary when the only one I am around is you. Please, Klark. I would like to consider you a friend, especially if we are to continue meeting day after day.”

 She nodded. “Okay. Lexa.”

 They exchanged small smiles before finally beginning their return to Polis.

 -

 To Clarke’s surprise, Lexa visited her again that night, same time as she always did. She carried books in her hands.

 “I had my fleimkepa scan our records on elementals,” she began once they were seated, placing the books on the table. “He found books on the discovery of the elements when the first people began to believe in the spirits from over a century ago. It was so long ago that many were written in English.” Lexa patted the books. “These are a few of them.”

 Clarke took the top one. The cover said The Science of the Spirits, written in intricate cursive. Flipping to a random page, she saw that the entire thing was in English, more like a notebook than a novel. Sketches and graphs were scattered in among the words. She smiled at Lexa. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to look through them.”

 Lexa dipped her head. “Have you worked any more on your soncha?”

 “A bit.” She pulled up an orb of light, something she’d done so many times in the past couple of hours it came easily. “I can’t do much with it, though.”

 “That’s to be expected. We will work on that more tomorrow.”

 “Tomorrow. Okay.” The light dissipated, leaving the room in shadows. 

 They sat in silence for a minute, neither knowing what to say. “If you’d like, I can give you a tour of the city after tomorrow’s lesson.”

 Clarke sat up. “I thought you had duties.” 

 Lexa shrugged. “I always have duties. They can be put off. I’d be glad to take a break from them for a little while, though I will be pressed on time. Unless you’d rather have one of your guards give you the tour?”

 The thought of one of the large, quiet men who stood outside her room day and night giving her a tour was not very appealing. “No, no. I’d love if you would give me a tour of the city.”

 “Very well.” She stood. “If there is nothing else to say, then I’ll be leaving. I shall do my own research on your soncha and inform you if there is anything you need to know.”

 “Okay. Thanks.” Lexa nodded stiffly and left the room. Clarke sighed, adjusting to lean against the arm of the couch and tugging one of the books into her lap.

 Her life had just become a hell of a lot more interesting.

 -

 Clarke and Lexa met at the gates and carried on to the arena. At first, their interactions were stiff and polite, nothing more than formal. Clarke managed to break that in a less than conventional way.

 She held a ball of light in her hands, carefully increasing its size until it was twice the size of her fist. She added another pulse of energy and it exploded in her face.

 Lexa snorted, barely able to contain her laughter as Clarke fell flat on her ass in surprise. She stood up, brushing the dirt off and looking at Lexa, who now had a playful smirk on her face. “Are you alright, Klark?”

 “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” she said, and Lexa exhaled sharply to keep from bursting out laughing. Clarke glared at her and Lexa’s grin only widened.

 “Shall we try again?”

 Clarke tossed a ball of light at Lexa’s face. It did nothing but amuse her more. Clarke buried her face in her hands and a soft glow began to waft off her body. Lexa informed her of such.

 “Great, now I’m a fucking lightbulb.” Clarke stared at her arms with as much intensity as she could until the light flickered away. She grumbled about it under her breath and turned back to Lexa. “So, the tour?”

 Lexa had gotten ahold of her expression, but her eyes still glinted with laughter. “Of course, Klark. Come.”

 The guards followed behind at a distance as they stepped off the side streets and into the main market. It was filled to the brim, people from all tribes bustling around. Clarke stared slack-jawed at everything around her. Peering into one of the stalls, she saw someone drop a little bone necklace into the shopkeeper’s hand in return for a small carved figurine of a deer. 

 She felt Lexa brush up beside her. “Come, Klark. There is one place I think you will enjoy.”

 -

 Lexa led her into an art shop.

 The walls were lined with pictures, done in charcoal, watercolor, paints, so vibrant and smooth that they looked unreal. Clarke gaped at them, reaching up to trace her fingers along a painted river flowing across. The texture was rough and layered, the foam sticking off the page just a bit more than the rest of it. She heard Lexa talking to the shopkeeper behind her but didn’t pay any attention to what they were saying. Walking through the racks of paintings, they were all she could focus on.

 She paused at one. This was of Lexa. She was covered in thick armor, her red sash flowing out behind her, flames lighting it up. Lexa held balls of flame in her hand, the background being a reddish-brown background that looked more volcanic than anything she’d ever seen. Lexa’s face was covered in black warpaint, making her look terrifyingly striking. 

 She heard a laugh from behind her. “You will find multiple paintings of myself, I am sure. The commanders are viewed more like gods than humans, even myself. Some even say the commanders are the fire spirit itself.”

 “Do you believe that?”

 “No. I am Heda because I killed children, not because I’m a goddess.” Lexa’s lip curled. “I would much rather have ascended that way.”

 “You did what you had to do.” Clarke sighed. “Why were you chosen to be commander?”

 “I am a natblida. All natblidas are trained from a young age until the commander dies, in which they will fight to the death. The winner ascends to be commander and the hunt for a new generation of natblidas begins.”

 Clarke winced. “Are all the natblidas fayahakas?”

 “There are only two fayahakas in this generation, but there has never been a commander who was not one. The most promising of the natblidas is one.” Lexa’s lips twitched up into a grin. “You will have to meet them sometime. You will adore them.”

 “How young are they?”

 “The oldest is thirteen. The youngest is ten.”

 Clarke felt a pang in her heart. “And they have to kill each other.”

 “When I die, yes. I wish it did not have to be that way.” Lexa sighed. “I have suggested changing the tradition multiple times, but no one else agrees with me. It is a show of strength, they say.” She exhaled, reaching to the back of her neck. 

 Clarke rested a hand on Lexa’s bicep. “I’m sorry you had to do that, but you had no choice.”

 “I did.” Lexa’s eyes unfocused as she thought back. “There were eight other natblidas in my generation, and contrary to belief, I was not the top of my class. There was another girl who could beat everyone she fought, including myself. I looked up to her as an older sister. When the conclave came, each fought our way through the other children. When it came time to fight each other, she fled. Disappeared from Polis. She didn’t resurface until two years ago as the leader of the floudonkru.”

 “Two years ago? How long have you been Heda for?”

 “I have been Heda for eight years. I ascended when I was twelve summers.”

 “Twelve years,” Clarke murmured. She squeezed Lexa’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

 “You have nothing to apologize for. It is something I regret, but to be stuck on their death would be to dishonor them. I can only be the best I can be.”

 Clarke smiled softly at her. “And you are. You’re possibly the only person who actually treats me like a human here. Even at Arkadia, I was treated like a child, scolded for trying to be my own person. So thank you, Lexa. I’m sure the other novitiates are proud of what you’ve done with their sacrifice.”

 Lexa chuckled quietly, her eyes glistening. She had a sad smile on her face that made Clarke’s bones ache. Lexa made her feel in a way no one ever had.

 It was addictive.

 -

 They continued to meet outside every day. When Lexa started to get behind on her duties, they resigned to meeting after dinner in Clarke’s rooms like they had the first couple days.

 Clarke couldn’t get enough of her. Lexa’s nightly visits were the highlight of her day. When they were alone, Lexa could strip off parts of her mask, and Clarke was slowly getting her to remove more and more. Beneath it all, Lexa was just a young girl who wanted to enjoy her life. 

 Clarke had basically mastered her powers. Drawing from her energy reserve took barely even a thought now and manipulating the light took just a twitch of her finger. Clarke was obsessed with it, and Lexa was too, though she didn’t let it stop her from lighting all the candles in the room whenever she came in.

 They had draped themselves across the couch in Clarke’s solar, Lexa complaining about her work and Clarke listening intently. “The ambassadors refuse to see sense,” she groaned, making abstract shapes in the air with her fire. “Louwoda Kliron is complaining that they are outgrowing their land and is demanding that Yujleda surrender a portion of theirs. They are demanding too much for too little a price and refuse to negotiate past that.”

 “Did they decide that?”

 “No. I ended the meeting before it could escalate.” She dropped her head onto the back of the couch, sighing heavily. “The ambassadors will be returning to their clans in three days' time to make their seasonal report, thank the spirits. I will have almost a fortnight without them.”

 “Why so long?” At Lexa’s scalding look, Clarke corrected herself. “Not that I’m complaining, but why would they be gone for so long?”

 “Because the Ingranrona Kru are almost a week’s ride away from Polis. It is a break I have been looking forward to since the last one ended.” 

 Clarke snorted, leaning close enough that their shoulders brushed and adding a strand of light to Lexa’s dance. Lexa gave her an amused look, twirling her fire around the white ribbon. Clarke condensed it into a thicker glow and escaped from its fiery cage, brushing the edge of the flames. 

 Lexa paused. “Wait. Do that again.”

 “Do what again?”

 “Just keep still,” she commanded. Clarke balled up her light and held it in place. Lexa prodded at the light with her fire. Nothing happened. Lexa sighed.

 “What are you trying to do?” Clarke asked softly.

 “I just… thought I saw something. It was probably nothing.” She shook her head.

 Clarke looked up at the disappearing stroke of fire. “Wait.”

 Lexa looked up. “What?”

 “Put the fire back.”

 Lexa frowned but did as she asked. Clarke took her little globe of light and it flowed right into the core of the fire. It glowed white, the fire softening into a warm gold.

 Clarke hummed. “That’s pretty cool.”

 Lexa’s brows furrowed. “Cool? It is fire. Fire is not cold.”

 Clarke chuckled. “No, no, not like that. It’s Skaikru slang. It means ‘amazing’ or ‘interesting.’”

 “Then yes, I suppose it is ‘cool.’” Clarke grinned. Hearing Lexa say something like that wasn’t something she’d ever expected to hear.

 A loud clang alerted them that the twenty-first candlemark had hit. Lexa sighed. “I must go.”

 “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Clarke said, standing up and offering Lexa a hand. She took it. Instead of releasing immediately after, Lexa tightened her hold and, after a moment of hesitation, leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Clarke’s cheek. She left with a small smile gracing her face.

 Clarke stood in place for a couple minutes after Lexa was gone. She reached up and touched the spot Lexa had kissed, staring at the door, stunned into silence. The commander of the twelve clans just kissed her. Lexa just kissed her.

 She couldn’t think of a better way to end her evening.

 -

 Lexa came an hour later than usual the next day. She refused to meet Clarke’s eyes when she let her in.

 “I’ve arranged for you to meet the natblidas,” Lexa said, standing by the couch awkwardly. “You had said you’d like to meet them, so I had it arranged. I hope you don’t mind.”

 “Of course not,” Clarke said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. 

 Lexa fidgeted, her gaze down at the floor. Clarke took note of her flushed cheeks. “Wonderful. I, um, will retrieve you tomorrow at the fourteenth candlemark. If that’s okay.”

 “It’s perfect.” Clarke shifted closer, reaching out to skim her fingers over Lexa’s wrist. She flinched. “Lexa, look at me. Please. You’re acting odd.”

 “I’m probably just tired.” Lexa backed away from the couch. “I should retire. Goodnight, Klark.”

 “Lexa, wait.” Clarke stood, walking over to her. “Look at me. Beja, Lexa. You don’t need to hide from me.”

 Lexa took a shuddering breath, angling her face away. Clarke rested a hand on the small of her back, feeling her stiffen under her touch. “Lexa.”

 Lexa spun around suddenly, making Clarke stumble back. “What?” She demanded, her eyes red, lips trembling. “What do you want?”

 “I want to help you.” Clarke stepped closer, carefully taking one of Lexa’s hands in hers. She shook and Clarke wrapped both hands around it. She sought out her eyes, forest green, which were looking everywhere but Clarke. “Tell me what’s wrong, love.”

 Lexa’s eyes flickered up to her face, widening in surprise. Clarke understood then. Understood what Lexa wanted but was too afraid to ask for. What she was afraid of facing. Something Clarke was afraid of, too. But she would take the plunge. For both of them.

 Clarke reached up and rested a hand lightly on Lexa’s cheek. She brushed her thumb over the corner of her lips, watching Lexa’s eyes dart between her face and the floor. Clarke slipped the hand beneath her chin, tilting her head up, angling her head slightly. Leaning in, she brushed their lips lightly. It was light, barely felt, but she tilted forward again, the feather of a touch merging into a kiss.

 Lexa didn’t move for a moment, her body stock still, until with a single breath she practically melted. Their bodies melded together, sliding into place like two pieces of a puzzle. Clarke released Lexa’s hand, wrapping her arm around her waist and tugging her closer, the other hand massaging her jaw. Lexa’s hands wandered up, hesitantly brushing over Clarke’s shoulders, but Clarke squeezed Lexa closer and she relented, wrapping her arms around her neck.

 They broke apart, panting, Lexa with tears dripping down her face. Clarke brushed them away, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Are you alright, love?”

 Lexa closed her eyes at the pet name, leaning into Clarke’s hand. She hummed. “Mhm.” 

 Clarke felt her heart racing, threatening to beat out of her chest. She’d just kissed Lexa. God, she couldn’t process it. She hadn’t even been here a fortnight and she’d just kissed the commander. The fucking commander. Though at the moment, it wasn’t the commander she held in her arms, soft, warm, heavy.

 Clarke led her back over to the couch, sitting down and pulling Lexa down on top of her. Lexa pressed a messy kiss to her cheek, arms tightening around her neck. Clarke brushed her lips over Lexa’s jawline, mouthing at the sharp jut that made her look so damn tough. Lexa groaned, dropping her head onto Clarke’s shoulder.

 Clarke tore herself away from her neck, sitting back against the couch, keeping her arms loosely wrapped around Lexa’s waist. Lexa sat back as well, fingers twirling the baby hairs on the back of her neck. On her face was a wide grin. Sparks flew off of her, a section of her hair catching aflame. Clarke chuckled, patting it out. “You’re sparking, love.”

 Lexa bit her lip. “And you’re glowing, hodnes.” Clarke scowled and Lexa dug her teeth into her lip to keep herself from giggling. She was the commander. She did not giggle.

 Clarke leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her nose. “You like me?”

 “Is it not obvious?”

 “You’re right,” she agreed. “Then it’s obvious that I like you?”

 “Mm, I should hope so.” Lexa brought a hand around to stroke down her face. “You’re stunning, ai soncha. It was hard to keep my hands off you.”

 Clarke exhaled with a small puff. “If I’d known you wouldn’t kill me for it I would have had my hands on you a long time ago.” She laughed quietly. “And to think that only two weeks ago I thought the commander was some giant, rough scar-faced man who would kill me on sight.” The absurdity of it all only made her laugh harder. “And now I have the commander sitting in my lap, a beautiful, terrifying woman who I can’t fucking resist.”

 Lexa sighed, nuzzling her nose into Clarke’s cheek. “Flatterer.”

 “It’s true. You’re lovely.” Lexa purred, kissing her neck. Clarke groaned as she started nipping at her skin. “Lexa, we should talk about this-”

 “Later.” She lapped at the red skin she left after a particularly harsh bite. “Let us enjoy this. Just this moment.”

 And how could she resist?

 -

 Lexa left a half hour later. Clarke’s mind was blurry and dizzy and she swore she couldn’t see straight.

 They hadn’t had sex or anything; Clarke wasn’t at all prepared for that. It was all touches and kisses and caresses and the affection that they both had been denied for too long.

 They hadn’t talked. About what this meant. About what it would do to them. About how it would work with them being who they were - an intruder skai girl and the grounder commander. An odd couple, to be sure.

 Lexa came by at the fourteenth candlemark the following day, just as she had promised. The smiles they shared were different. More open and affectionate. Happier.

 “The natblidas come up here to train every day,” Lexa told Clarke as they stood hundreds of feet above the city, the view even more impressive with the addition of the commander tower. “Usually Titus trains them, as I normally have duties to attend to, but the ambassadors departed today, so I offered to take over.” A smile graced her face. “The natblidas hold a place close to me.”

 Clarke reached over and took her hand. “I’m excited to meet them.”

 Lexa squeezed her hand. “You’ll love them. They’ll love you, too. Children are much more open-minded than adults. They won’t let your clan get in the way of who you are.”

 Clarke huffed. “That’d be a first.” She raised an eyebrow at Lexa’s look. “You can’t deny that it doesn’t matter to you. It does. It matters to us.”

 “I wish it didn’t,” she sighed. “For me to take you would make me look weak because you are an outsider. And I doubt your people would appreciate it either.”

 “Fuck what my people have to say. They aren’t here right now.” She leaned closer. “And yours aren’t here right now, either.”

 Lexa gave her an amused glance. “As much as I want to, the natblidas are here. We will have time later.”

 “You’d better keep that promise.” The greenery behind them rustled and the two separated. The first to walk into the clearing was a boy, only a couple of inches shorter than Clarke, with tousled blonde-red hair and pale skin. He had slim muscle packed into his arms and legs, a show of strength despite his skinniness. He grinned. “Heda! You have not visited in a while!”

 “I know. I apologize. I’ve been busy,” Lexa said, stepping forward to hug him. Six other kids crowded around her, the youngest clinging to her arm. Clarke almost cooed. 

 “Heda, who’s she?” All eyes turned to Clarke. She shifted her weight, smiling nervously. 

 Lexa ruffled the young girl’s hair. “This is Klark. You may have heard of her. She is Skaikru.”

 Aden was the first to step forward. “Pleasure to meet you, Klark kom Skaikru. I am Aden kom Podakru.”

 Clarke relaxed. “The pleasure’s all mine, Aden.”

 He smiled at her. The other six natblidas introduced themselves, no two being from the same clan. Clarke was particularly drawn to a young brunette girl of eleven from the Sankru named Kalya. The young girl seemed genuinely happy to meet her, offering her arm in greeting, a sign of respect among their culture. 

 Lexa herded them away to train them and Clarke watched from the sides. First, Lexa fought each of them individually. Aden was the only one who got a hit on her; likely why Lexa claimed he was the most likely successor. It was incredible to see how they fought with their powers. Water, electricity, earth, fire, each of them had a beauty to them. Electricity was like a bullet; if you didn't know it was coming you couldn’t dodge it. Water was smooth and flowing; not solid but a good way to disorient. Earth made the entire arena a tricky place to maneuver. The ground would jut out or retract in, not something that happened quick but deadly if you didn’t avoid it. Fire was a whole different story.

 Lexa and Aden fought with fire. It was a deadly dance, both fighting for control. Aden would lash out and Lexa would snap it away, sending her own projectile. Fire couldn’t hurt either of them but it could burn through armor, melt weapons if hot enough and could act as a blindfold. By the time Aden was down, the entire clearing was filled with smoke.

 After that, they paired up to fight, Lexa working with one herself. She was harsh in her teachings but always kept her students safety in mind. 

 When it was all over, most of them collapsed to the ground to rest. Lexa walked back to her, slick with sweat that made Clarke’s core pulse. She leaned over, muttering in her ear. “You’re hot when you’re all sweaty.”

 Lexa furrowed her brows. “Hot? Of course. Exercise always warms the body.”

 Clarke snuffed a laugh. “That’s not what I meant.” She leaned back in. “In our culture, ‘hot’ means attractive.”

 Lexa flushed. “Oh.”

 Clarke snorted, shifting slightly away to a more respectable distance. One of the natblidas came over to them. “Heda, why did you bring the skaigada?” The other nightbloods crowded closer to hear her answer. 

 Lexa rested a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “I wanted you to meet her. Klark has become a friend of mine. I thought you would like her.”

 The youngest, a boy of Asian descent from the plain riders, tugged on her sleeve. “Can you tell us about Skaikru?”

 Clarke smiled. “Of course. What do you wish to know?”

 Clarke spent a good part of the next half-hour talking to them about Arkadia and the Ark. They seemed horrified at her life. “You don’t have keryonakas?”

 She shook her head. “No. I didn’t even know such a thing existed until I came here.”

 “So you don’t have a spirit?”

 Clarke sent Lexa a questioning glance. Lexa’s eyes flickered to the nightbloods and she nodded.

 “I do,” Clarke said. “Lexa taught me how to find it.”

 “What are you?” The young boy was bouncing on his heels. “I bet you’re a wodahaka.”

 “I think she’s a graunhaka!”

 They turned eagerly back to her. “Which one are you?”

 She chuckled. “Neither. Nor am I a fayahaka or a strakahaka.” She pulled out of the air a globe of white light, like a mini star held in her palm. “I am what you might call a sonchaka.”

 “A light-maker.” Aden stepped forward, eyes wide. He reached forward. “Can I?” Clarke pushed the globe to him.

 His fingers slipped right through it without any resistance. His face filled with wonder as the light trailed after his fingertips when he retreated. The other children pushed closer to get a better view.

 Clarke pulled out a ribbon of light, twirling it around Kalya and making her look like some sort of ethereal goddess. She laughed, reaching up to touch the swirling glow. It recoiled from her touch, forming into a little fox and nuzzling her palm before dissipating. 

 She released more ribbons, the light spiraling around the clearing, dipping up and down and in and out. Lexa held up a hand, tendrils of flame joining in with the light show. Her fire sparked into a golden hue. The natblidas gaped at the impressive display of power.

 Clarke pulled back, feeling the use of so much power take its toll on her. Lexa drew hers back as well, stepping up beside her. “Listen to me. You cannot tell anyone about this. I trust all of you to understand the importance of keeping this hidden.” The natblidas nodded along with Lexa’s words. “Good. Now, I believe you are late to Titus’s lessons. Tell him if he has a problem to take it up with me.”

 The children rushed off, hastily saying their goodbyes to Clarke. Silence fell quickly.

 Lexa reached out to grab her hand, not saying anything. Clarke turned to her. “You really want to deal with Titus?”

 Lexa laughed at that, a sound that made Clarke smile widely. “Nobody wants to deal with Titus, but if anyone is to do it I might as well be it.”

 “You shouldn’t have to be.” Clarke tugged her closer, planting a messy kiss on her cheek. “You’re young. You should live your life, not be weighed down by the needs of the people.”

 “And yet that is the life that was chosen for me the moment I was born.” She wiped a drop of black blood off of her face, where a small cut sat on her cheek just beneath her eye. “I was cursed with nightblood. It was my destiny to ascend or die.”

 “Has a commander ever retired?”

 “Retired? No. They die before they can.” She sighed. “I imagine it would be impossible to retire anyway. If I did somehow manage to grow old, I would be assassinated for being weak. If I tried to retire, I would be assassinated for being weak.”

 Clarke hooked their arms together. “Maybe once you get your peace you can work toward fixing that. Fixing your stupid weakness rule.”

 “It is not stupid, Klark,” Lexa complained. “It keeps us strong. The weak die, the strong live on.”

 “What do you consider weak? Sickness? Injury? Wanting to relax for a single fucking minute?”

 “You’re right,” she admitted. “It is flawed in that sense. But we’ll deal with that when we get there.”

 Clarke smiled. “I like the sound of that. We.”

 Lexa turned to her. “Does that mean you wish to stay here?”

 It was something she’d had on her mind for a while now. When she’d have to return. “I wish I could. I hope I can. But I can’t just leave my family and friends behind.”

 Lexa’s happy expression dropped a bit. “I understand.”

 “Hey, love, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. I want to. But I have an obligation to my people, just as you do to yours.”

 Lexa smiled shyly. “Perhaps we can incorporate Skaikru into our peace. From what you have told me of their capabilities, they would be valuable trade partners, and your fayagons would be a useful long-range weapon of war if one were to come about.”

 Clarke grinned and leaned over to press a kiss onto her lips. “I would love that. I’m sure my people would, too.”

 Lexa’s smile widened and she surged forward, catching her lips once more. 

 It would be some time before they returned to the city.

 -

 Lexa visited her that night as usual. Her dress was different.

 She wasn’t in her usual commander coat and armor, instead dressed in a thin nightgown with a long slit in the leg. Clarke let her in, eyes wandering, but Lexa didn’t care. Almost as if she’d done it on purpose. She probably had.

 The first thing Clarke did was pull her down onto her lap, pulling her in for a proper kiss. Lexa grunted, mouth parting slightly, and kissed back, shifting to straddle her hips. Clarke rested a hand on Lexa’s leg, feeling the bare skin that radiated warmth on the cool evening. The other hand slipped into Lexa’s hair, scratching at her scalp. Lexa purred, smiling into the kiss.

 Lexa pulled away first, hands resting on either side of Clarke’s neck. “Klark, how can we do this?”

 “Hmm?” Clarke hummed, her mind still slightly disoriented from the sudden rush of attraction.

 “Our relationship. How can we manage it?” Lexa rested her cheek against Clarke’s temple. “Our people will both despise it, and they already hate each other. Along with the fact that you cannot stay here forever and it will be hard for you to come back.”

 Clarke sighed. “I know. This can’t end well, not as it is now. I’ll have to leave soon, and you’ll be alone here again, and I’ll be locked up in Arkadia again. So let’s just enjoy this while it lasts.”

 “Enjoy it while it lasts,” Lexa said sadly. “It will have to be enough, won’t it?”

 Clarke didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

 Lexa pulled away, their lips meeting ever so gently. With such thoughts at the front of their minds, they remained gentle and light, but it became a mere afterthought within the throngs of their affection.

 Lexa wasn’t a very touchy-feely person, but Clarke was completely hands-on. She traced muscles through the gown, slipped a hand to her arm to feel the raised flesh of the tattoo, of which Clarke had never seen. She’d have to ask Lexa about her tattoos later. 

 Clarke prodded at Lexa’s lower lip with her tongue, skimming over it with her teeth. Lexa obediently parted her lips, allowing Clarke to feel her out. She bit down lightly on her tongue and Clarke dug her nails into Lexa’s arm. She let out a low moan, sinking down into her.

 Clarke pulled back, eyes dark with lust. Evaluating Lexa’s behavior, she hoped she was reading this right. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against her ear. “I want you to sit still like a good girl and take what I give.”

 Lexa shivered, a gasp escaping her mouth. She nodded quickly, arms tightening around Clarke’s neck. Clarke kissed her on the lips and snagged her fingers in Lexa’s hair, tilting her head to the side. She began planting kisses up and down her jawline, sucking on her pulse point enough to leave the faintest of marks. It wouldn’t do to ruin the commander’s reputation.

 Clarke kissed up and down her neck, nipping and sucking on the soft, delicate skin of her throat. Her free hand went to Lexa’s back, splaying across the bare skin to hold her tight. This was the first time she’d ever been in a relationship even remotely sexual, and she was surprised at how naturally her dominance came through.

 Who would’ve thought the commander would be a damn sub.

 -

 Someone knocked on the door to Clarke’s room an hour after breakfast.

 A handmaiden was standing at the door. “Klark kom Skaikru,” she began, dipping her head. “I come with a message from the commander.”

 “What is it?”

 “You must collect your things,” she said. “Heda has gifted you this sak to carry anything you wish to take with you. She says you will be departing in a candlemark.”

 Clarke furrowed her eyebrows. “Did she say where I am going?”

 “She gave no hint of the destination or purpose.”

 Clarke nodded stiffly. “Thank you.” The handmaiden bowed slightly and turned to leave. Clarke closed the door, leaning her forehead against the thick, rich wood. 

 She was leaving Polis. Likely being delivered back to her people. Why? She doubted Lexa would make this decision without consulting her first unless there was something else playing into it. Had something happened?

 She had no way to get her answers. She grabbed a change of clothes, her drawings, and, as a last minute thought, grabbed Lexa’s other gifts. The watercolors and the keryon books. She hoped she was allowed to take those.

 The better part of the hour was spent pacing her room in silence. Her steps weighed heavy on the floor, her face scrunched up in thought as she went over the various scenarios of what could be happening. Did it have to with Skaikru? With Polis? The Kongeda? The questions rang in her mind with no way of answering them.

 Another handmaiden came to fetch her, leading her outside of the tower and to a building at the edge of the city. It was a stable, filled with the smells and sounds of horses.

 There were a dozen horses outside, all tacked up and ready to depart. All of the riders were warriors except one.

 Clarke strode over. “Lexa,” she said quietly. The girl looked up from where she had been securing the horse’s girth. “What is going on?”

 “I’ll tell you on the way. We have to arrive as soon as possible.” Lexa handed her the reins to a sturdy chestnut mare and turned to address the entire party. “Mount up.”

 Clarke had to hold the stirrup in place with her hands to be able to get her foot in and swing herself over. Luckily, the mare was small, just short enough that she could do it herself, which saved her a bit of dignity. Lexa sat tall on her dark stallion, nodding for Clarke to flank her. 

 They rode out of Polis, pushing the pace to a slow lope. Lexa fell back to ride beside Clarke. “A messenger just arrived from Onya this morning. The Skaikru have been searching for you, and have begun to extend their search outside of their territory. Patrols on the border have turned them back, but they grow persistent. We fear they will turn to violence if you are not returned to them.”

 It wasn’t until then that Clarke understood what she had been doing to them, staying in Polis. She’d known it wouldn’t do to live away from her family and friends, but she hadn’t considered the immediate consequences. They’d assume the worst. Most of them already hated the tribes, and if they thought the Trikru had kidnapped her… 

 Okay, technically, they had kidnapped her. But no one needed to know that.

 The message had been vague, so Lexa couldn’t tell her much more than that. They rode side by side, occasionally picking up small talk but keeping a comfortable silence for the majority of the ride. They stopped every hour or so to rest the horses, slowing to a trot as the sun began to dip closer to the horizon. 

 They camped for the night by the riverside, the ground flattened by two graunhaka warriors in a way that she recognized had been done by Anya on their journey to Polis. She hadn’t realized how much the grounders depended on their powers to get things done more efficiently. Lexa sparked up an easy flame, adjusting it as needed to cook the deer meat to perfection. The water was purified by one of the wodahakas and the horses were given fresh patches of some of the best foods just grown from the ground.

 Clarke discreetly lit up the tips of her fingers, letting the glow dance over her hand. She wondered about what it would mean for her back home.

 She and Lexa didn’t have a single moment alone the entire four days it took to travel to TonDC. By the time they arrived, Clarke was aching for her in a way that seemed impossible.

 They arrived back at dusk, setting up tents just beside the village walls. Most people gave them warm greetings, but Anya was less than pleased to see Clarke. “It is her fault we are in this situation in the first place,” she argued. 

 Clarke snorted. Anya scowled at her. “Have something to say, skaigada?”

 “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t forced me into custody.”

 They could have gone back and forth for hours. Lexa knew that. She stopped it before it could even begin.

 When they returned to their tents, Lexa tapped her wrist lightly and hooked their pinkies together, drawing her towards the commander’s tent.

 Lexa sat down on the fur-covered cot and looked at Clarke. Clarke looked back. They both knew what this was.

 This was goodbye.

 Clarke walked toward her and removed her pauldron, setting it on a table behind her. Lexa stayed silent, hands ghosting over Clarke’s arms as she undid the many buckles of the commander’s coat, laying the heavy fabric on the table as well. She turned back, watching Lexa. Her eyes glistened and Clarke could feel tears pricking at the edges of hers as well. She leaned down, pressing her lips to Lexa’s forehead, hands coming up to cradle her face. 

 Lexa seemed to choke on her words. “Klark, I-”

 “Shhhh,” Clarke mumbled, lips still against Lexa’s face. “No words. Not tonight. Nothing that will remind us of what is to come.”

 Lexa wrapped her hands around Clarke’s wrists and squeezed lightly. Clarke sat down beside her and pulled her into a soft kiss, hands gentle and caring. Nothing of the hot passion they’d shared previous nights, and yet it was all the more powerful.

 They fell asleep together in Lexa’s bed, shoes still on their feet, hair still braided tightly to the back of their heads, armor still strapped to their chests. When they woke once more come morning, neither moved, only soaking in the closeness of the other. Silently dreading what was to come.

 Someone knocked on one of the poles of Lexa’s tent.

 Clarke clutched Lexa tighter.

 -

 Their goodbyes outside are nothing short of formal protocol.

 Lexa keeps her face schooled, chin raised high, though Clarke can see how her lower lip trembles, how her hands shake, how her eyes shine. She imagined she was much the same. Neither said more than was expected and Clarke was thankful. If Lexa had tried to say anything more, she wouldn’t have been able to keep her facade.

 She was escorted to the border of Arkadia. Anya was thankful to be rid of her.

 She walked alone back to the fallen Ark, feeling her heart close in on itself as the walls came into view. She pushed Lexa to the back of her mind. She knew she’d break down later when she was alone. 

 Someone called her name and people began to gather at the fences, looking out at her with surprise, relief, awe.

 Her mother rushed up to the gates, standing just over the threshold. Raven and Octavia were there as well. 

 She was happy to see them. She would be, at least.

 The flicker of the torchlight against their face only served to remind her of the red flames that spiraled from Lexa’s hands.

[satinechristian]

can i go where you go?

dimya + post canon + being grossly in love

Anya loved being in love. With her memories mostly restored, though some more muted than others- like a hazy dream you could only kind of remember after you woke up but something about it still made you feel it vividly. But glancing over at Dmitry with his handsome face and soft hair, it very much melded together her two beings of Anya and Anastasia, and she could remember being young and thinking herself in love with all sorts of boys. Soldiers, diplomats, brothers of friends. It wasn’t exactly the same, and she could recognize her younger self hadn’t been in love with anything, but she did feel the same gush of giddiness spread through her chest that she felt when she looked over at him as she did as a child, more in love with love than with anyone. 

Dmitry was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over a book, one of his bare feet tapping against the wood of the floor as he read. That’s how she knew he was reading in French. Frustrated Dmitry was always married with fidgety Dmitry. She crawled up behind him, looping one arm around his shoulder and the other around his waist, and then pressing her face against the fabric of his tank top. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, softly, and she closed her eyes against the sound of hearing Russian again. During daytime hours they tried to speak only French, a way to help Dmitry master the language, and her to practice her skills that hadn’t been sharpened during the years of her amnesia and imprisonment. But in the morning and at night, they were tired and went back to their own language. 

“No,” she said, her voice muffled by shirt and muscle. 

She could feel the smirk and the rolling of his eyes, despite the physical impossibility of her being able to know either. 

“You’re very annoying,” he said, just like she had always dreamed of a boy would when she was a little girl. 

Anya smiled, and then lifted herself up enough to press a kiss against his jaw. “You’re very annoying, too. Ignoring me for that book.” 

Dmitry let out a chuckle, and she released him as he leaned forward to place the book on the nightstand. “You’re very demanding of my time and attention.”

She smoothed out the skirt of her nightgown, and kept her back straight. “You knew what you were getting into with a Grand Duchess.”

He crawled onto the bed, his face close to hers, “I don’t think anyone could anticipate you, Your Highness.”

Anya laughed and brought her lips forward to meet his. So much of their life felt like play acting. Play the Princess Anastasia, play the orphan girl with no past, play the Dowager Empresses' granddaughter. Everything was so different than how it had been when she had grown up, and so different than those ten years she spent traveling the length of Russia. 

She fell back on the bed, relaxing. Here, though, she was young and in love with her handsome husband and nothing had ever felt more real. Anya reached up and pressed her palm against his cheek. 

“Come down here with me,” she pouted, applying light pressure against his cheek. “I spend all day looking up at you and it’s going to ruin my neck.” 

Dmitry let out an exasperated sigh, playing his part. He settled next to her on the bed, laying on his side and resting his hand against her stomach. “Any other demands tonight?”

Anya reached down, interlocking their fingers. She turned her head to look at him from underneath her eyelashes. “Not right now, but it is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”

He absently rubbed her thumb against her hand where they were joined, “I think you owe me a foot massage.”

“How so?”

“From the abuse they get from you always keeping me on my toes,” he teased and she wrinkled her nose like she hated it. 

She wanted to spend forever in this bed without a country, speaking her native tongue with the man she loved. 

Instead, she stuck her tongue out at him in response. 

“Anyok,” he said, releasing her hand to bring his up to playing with the curls of her hair. 

“Dima,” she returned, playfully. 

Instead of responding, he merely closed his eyes. His stupid long lashes against his face. 

“You can’t sleep,” she poked at his shoulder, though that may have hurt her more than him. “You have to entertain me.” 

“And how does my love wish to be entertained?” He did not open as he asked. 

“Tell me a story,” Anya told him. 

“You know all my stories,” he responded but he did open his eyes to look at her. 

“Already?”

“It was a very long journey to France,” Dmitry reminded her. “And you asked many questions.”

She had been nervous. The Bolsheviks had sent people- or at least a person- to murder her, and she wasn’t certain who she was still, and she was about to meet her possible grandmother. Asking questions of Dmitry and Vlad had been a good use of time. 

“I don’t know all your stories,” she insisted, with a sniff. “Tell me of all the girls you’ve seduced.”

He wouldn’t and he never had. 

“Ah, but there’s only one girl I’ve ever seduced,” he said, leaning over and kissing her. He attempted for her lips but she turned her head and be caught her on the corner of her mouth instead. “And you know that story well.”

“I am not your first girl,” she said. Though, she was certainly his last. 

And if that had been a seduction, then it certainly had been a mutual one. 

“No,” he agreed and her face pinched slightly though she already had known. “But all the other girls had seduced me.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, and rolled over onto her side to face him. “It must be so difficult to be as young and beautiful as you.”

“It truly weighs on my soul” he responded, dryly. “Tell me of all the boys you fell in love with before you knew me.” 

“They were boys,” Anya said, remembering men in fancy clothes and tutors and sailors. “I think I fell for every single one I met. I’m much more discerning now.”

“How many boys are you in love with now?”

She pretended to think about it, “Just you, I suppose. How many girls try to seduce you?”

“Legions,” he said, and she let out an offended gasp. “But only you have been successful these days.”

“Maybe I’ll no longer attempt to seduce you,” but her fingers already missed the feel of his skin beneath hers. 

How ridiculous to think for that brief moment in Paris they would ever live without each other. 

“Are you asking to be seduced?”

“And ruin your ego by making you humble yourself to do so?” Anya teased, “I could never.”

“So what was your request?”

“A story.”

“Have you heard the Story of the Duck With Golden Eggs?” 

“Not for many years,” she said. It seemed silly of all the things she remembered and could not remember that fairy tales would have stuck around. “You’d tell me a fairy tale?”

“My father told me many fairy tales,” Dmitry responded. “He was quite the dreamer.”

So was his son. She wished she had met his parents so she could see the blueprint of his soul. “I think I am a fairy tale.”

This time she allowed him to kiss her on the lips. And went back for more when he pulled away. 

“No one could have the imagination to make you up,” he told her. And from him, it was a compliment. 

She sat up in bed, turning around so when she laid back down she could rest her face against the pillow. She felt the familiar dips and shifts in the bed as Dmitry made his way to tuck himself behind her. She leaned into him as his arm wrapped around her. 

Anya let herself relax against the familiar in and out of his breathing behind her. “You never let me hold you in sleep.”

“You kick out,” he pressed a kiss against her neck, “I stay awake all night as your tiny feet become steel against my legs.”

She frowned, though she didn’t mean it. “Tonight I will dream of kicking in.” 

She could feel Dmitry’s laughter against her. “You can do anything you put your mind to.”

Anya should pull the sheet over them but it was warm in Dmitry’s embrace and she was loathed to move from it. 

“You know what you do in your sleep?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“You lock me in your arm and I can’t move,” she said. However, she held it in place when he went to move it. “I’ll perish if there’s ever a fire and you don’t wake up.”

“I’ll wake up if there’s a fire,” he promised. “Are you afraid to sleep?”

The nightmares came so infrequently now, but she always felt the anxiety before she went to bed that they might be there lurking somewhere. 

“Sometimes,” she admitted, and turned so she was facing him. Or rather, tipped her chin up so she was facing him. “Kiss me for awhile?”

Dmitry answered with an obliging kiss. It was so very nice to be in love, indeed. 

[stealing-jasons-job]

S1 canon-compliant (mostly) one-shot that recreates the moments right before Clarke had to shut the dropship door with Bellamy on the other side.

Inspired by The Other Side by Ruelle, which is such a Bellarke song it fucking hurts. I highly suggest listening to it while you read! This is the first fic in a series of one-shots all inspired by some of my favorite songs that give me Bellarke feels. <3 

Buckle up ladies and gents, this is going to be a rough one.

Find it on AO3 (or keep reading)

We are buried in broken dreams,

We are knee-deep without a plea

---

“Clarke! They’re taking down the gate,” Miller stumbles into the dropship, where Clarke is leaned over an unconscious Raven. Chaos is raining down around them, with the grounders closing in, Raven close to dying and Bellamy and Finn both outside fighting for their lives.

“Good, because I did it...I think,” Jasper pops up from the hatch that leads down below. If he was right, that meant the dropship was ready for blast off.

At Jasper’s words, Miller nods. “I’m closing that door.”

“Wait!” Clarke jumps up, rushing toward the door with Finn close behind. “We’ve still got people out there. Bellamy’s not back, yet.”

There were only a couple dozen in the dropship, and there was no sign of Bellamy. God, he should have fallen back by now. They had to get as many of the 100 as possible inside before closing the doors.

Gunfire and smoke fill the air. The grenades Raven made as a last resort are thrown as the first grounders breach the gate.

“Alright, everybody get inside now!” Clarke yells as loud as she possibly can, hoping she’s heard above the clashing of metal, war cries, and shots fired.

“Get down!” Finn nearly tackles her as arrows fly by so close she can feel the air whoosh by her hair. They duck behind a makeshift blockade while Miller holds off as many as he can from the doorway.

More grenades are thrown, but it’s impossible to stop the onslaught of grounders. As more of the 100 run out of bullets, they continue to fall back into the relative safety of the dropship. They wouldn’t be able to hold them off for much longer.

Where is he, where is he, where is he? Clarke asks herself, squinting through the darkness and the smoke for that familiar head full of curls.

“There he is!” Finn points to the treeline as Bellamy emerges from the tunnels. They lock eyes, and for a fraction of a second, Clarke thinks everything might be okay. But there’s a grounder-filled battlefield in between him and the dropship doors.

“He’s never going to make it,” she mumbles, more to herself than Finn. “Bellamy run!” she screams, more desperate than she’s willing to admit to herself. Adrenaline is pumping through her body, but her heart is beating wildly for an entirely different reason.

He picks up a gun as Tristan stalks toward him, sword in hand. Bellamy pulls the trigger, only to find it empty. Clarke is stuck watching from afar as Tristan swings at him.

Bellamy dodges the first swing, but can’t avoid the fist to his face that immediately follows. Clarke watches almost in slow motion as Bellamy is beaten down by the larger grounder. A knee to the abdomen, a punch to the jaw, a slash to the shoulder. She feels each hit as if she were being kicked in the gut, tears forming in her eyes.

“They’re killing him,” she whispers, terrified for the man she’d quickly come to depend on since they landed on the ground.

It’s a stark realization to have in the middle of a battle. I don’t want to do this without him.

He may have started off as a thorn in her side, an arrogant prick hell-bent on making her life on the ground even harder than it already was. But they’d quickly realized there was more to each other than meets the eye.

They’d bonded over their will to survive, their need to protect their people at any cost, the burden of leading a group of delinquent teenagers. He’d shared hidden parts of himself with her, and she’d done the same. He is undeniably her partner now, her co-leader… maybe even something more.

But it doesn’t seem like she’ll ever get to figure out what that something more might be — his body sags a bit more with each hit.

“Give me that,” Finn’s order breaks her stare, and she watches as she grabs a gun as some kid runs into the dropship. He fires at Tristian, hitting his shoulder. But he doesn’t stop there, running out to help.

“Stop! Finn, no!” Without hesitation, she jumps to follow, but Miller’s hand around her elbow keeps her in place behind the barricade.

Finn rams into Tristian, pushing them both to the ground, and Bellamy wrestles himself on top of the grounder with a blow to the face.

“Clarke, you can’t save everybody!” Miller yells in her ear, but she barely hears him. She’s fixated on where Finn and Bellamy are teaming up to fight Tristan, frozen in horror as she watches the two young men she needed most grow more bloodied with each passing second.

“Let’s go!” Miller tries again, pulling on her arm. She fights to stay put, but he’s persistent.

The last of the grenades fire off, and Clarke looks around at the scene in front of her. Their makeshift home was filled with bodies, both grounder and her own people. She watches as a young girl is stabbed by a grounder, killed instantly. Clarke thinks her name was Penelope, only 14 or 15 years old.

They’re running out of time. If she keeps that door open much longer, she’d be sacrificing the rest of the 100. She’d be condemning more kids to die on the hope that Bellamy and Finn might survive.

She turns again to where Bellamy and Finn are fighting. Finn hits the ground hard, gun coming up just in time to prevent Tristan’s sword from splitting his face in two. Bellamy takes the opportunity to land a harsh blow to the man’s temple, and he falls to the ground unceremoniously.

“Get inside! Bellamy, Finn! Run!” she screams so loud her voice gives out at the end. Let them make it , she prays to a God she doesn’t really believe is listening. She’ll give them another 15 seconds, she owes them both that much.

They both turn to run, and hope surges within her.

But it is ripped away from her as fast as it had arrived. Another grounder tackles Finn to the ground. And as soon as Bellamy realizes Finn is no longer right behind him, he turns back to help him. At that moment, Clarke simultaneously loves him and hates him.

“Now or never, Clarke!” Miller urges. He hasn’t left his place beside her, occasionally firing off bullets. Bellamy was right to advise her to keep him close. She knows what she has to do, but she’s glued to the ground.

She can’t leave them out here to die. She can’t.

Bellamy crashes to the ground from another punch, blood spraying from his mouth. His eyes catch hers and they stay locked on each other’s gaze.

Even from more than 50 feet away, she can see the look on his face. The look telling her to leave him, telling her to go inside and close that door.

She shakes her head, probably too small of a gesture for him to see in the dark. But he reads her, in that annoying way he’s been able to do from day one. He gives her a nod of his own, eyes communicating everything he can’t say out loud.

Do it, they say.

I can’t leave you, her own respond. I don’t want to know the other side of a world without you.

If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. But you have to do it, Princess.  

Tears are streaming down her face, and the entire world is minimized to this moment. Miller is all but dragging her back toward the dropship doors, as she struggles in his arms.

She knows logically that this is the only way to save her people. She knows she has to sacrifice Bellamy and Finn and anyone else remaining outside if she wants to save the kids inside. But everything inside of her is screaming at her to keep that door open, to wait for Bellamy.

“No!” she fights against Miller, but his hold doesn’t falter.

Bellamy gives her one last smirk, mouthing something at her. In the moment, she doesn’t process what he’s saying. But she knows the look in his eyes, the set to his jaw. He might give it readily for closing the door on him, but he would never forgive her for not saving the rest of those kids.

More grounders breach the gate, and she gathers the strength to do what must be done. She tries to find Bellamy or even Finn one last time, but they are both lost in the haze of smoke and fire surrounding the dropship.

She closes her eyes, trying to imprint his face on the back of her eyelids. She can do this, she can do this. For him and for Octavia who was still out there somewhere with Lincoln and for everyone else her mother sent down to die with her, she can do this.

May we meet again.

She runs to the dropship, where Miller is waiting. Once inside, she lifts the lever to shut the doors.

Anya manages to get inside as Jasper tries to get the wiring to cooperate to start the rockets. It’s a mob, everyone trying to get a piece of Anya the second she’s down. Clarke tries to stop them, her anguish momentarily pushed aside.

The Trikru leader is curled in a ball, almost unconscious.

“She deserves to die,” Miller’s voice cuts through, his dagger swinging through the air. But Clarke catches his arm before it can come down.

“No! We are not grounders.” She gets everyone’s attention with that, and the rioting stills.

“Clarke, waiting for your signal,” Jasper says from the ground. All eyes are on her and Jasper, who has two wires ready to jumpstart the rockets. They can all hear the grounders pounding on the outside walls. She closes her eyes, not willing to let any more tears fall. Not when the rest of her people are watching, not when they need her to be strong.

The door has been shut, the decision to leave the rest — to leave Bellamy — outside to die has already been made. But for some reason, the nod she gives Jasper is just as hard as pulling that lever had been.

Her eyes remain closed as the rockets fire, as she feels the momentary lift into the air and hears the corresponding screams outside. She tries unsuccessfully not to think about Bellamy and Finn’s voices being among them.

Silence soon envelopes the dropship. They all look around at one another, unsure what to do or how to feel.

“We did it!” the first cheer erupts, and soon more follow it. The rest of the delinquents whoop and holler, thanking the universe and any gods they believe in for keeping them alive.

But the sounds of their triumphant chants is the breaking point for Clarke. She feels the last of her resolve drain, and she drops the radio she’d been clutching all night.

Her legs fail her, and she stumbles back toward the wall of the dropship before crumpling to the floor. Miller crouches down next to her immediately.

“Clarke, Clarke. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he starts feeling for wounds, and she shakes her head. A sob escapes her, the first of many. She curls up in a ball, her head in her lap and her hands covering her ears.

She can’t listen to them cheering. Not when the cost was hundreds of lives, both grounders and her friends. Not when Finn risked his life to save Bellamy. Not when neither of them made it back in time.

She can’t hear the excited yells and the relieved laughs, not when her mind keeps playing the sounds of those screams on repeat. Not when Bellamy and Finn’s were among them.

Miller slides down beside her, wrapping a hesitant arm around her shoulders. No soothing words, no calming movements. He just sits there — solid presence next to her, silent permission to fall apart.

And that's exactly what she does.

It's not until her eyes are dry, her body is numb, and she's standing outside the dropship doors in the morning sunlight that her mind processes what Bellamy had mouthed to her as Miller dragged her back to the dropship door. She closes her eyes and looks up, silently hoping that there is some universe out there where he still exists, where they might have had a shot at more than war and destruction and death.

I love you, too, Bellamy Blake. I love you, too.

---

I don’t wanna know what it’s like to live without you,  

Don’t wanna know the other side of a world without you

[masterofmagnetism]

Impotent || Self Para

“It is not power that corrupts but fear. Fear of losing power corrupts those who wield it and fear of the scourge of power corrupts those who are subject to it.” ― Aung San Suu Kyi, Freedom from Fear WHO: Erik Lehnsherr, mentions of @firstxman, @mistressxfmagnetism, @disarraycd, @burdenedxtelepath, @maidenxfmight, @mysteriousmutant WHERE: His rooms at the Brotherhood HQ. WHEN: After his confrontation with Alex and Scott. WHAT: Unable to access his powers for the first time he can remember, Erik finds himself alone with the hallucinations and memories dragged up by the Enchantress’ spell.  Except, maybe not alone--the Phoenix, unrestrained by the collar or Erik’s natural resistance to telepathic interference, takes advantage.  WORDS: 2.3k

TWs: Holocaust mention, child abuse, torture, experimentation, child death, paranoia, anxiety, guilt.  Uhhh.  Lots of TWs.  Par for the course.

He asked for this.  

He asked for this, and yet he still can’t catch his breath because there is a collar around his neck and the world seems to have lost a dimension without the gentle humming of the metal he can see around the room brushing against his senses.  He’s always filled his rooms with metal--from furniture to trinkets.  He liked to have access to it, needed to have access to it.  But it sat there dead to his senses, now, and Erik would have preferred the loss of an arm, the loss of nigh on anything else.  

Except.  

If he had them, he could hurt his family.  Would hurt his family (again), because he couldn’t tell what was real and what was fake and what was once real but couldn’t be now and they were all too close.  Stupid, stupid.  There had been a time that he’d worked largely alone, a very long time, and that had been safe.  Safer than settling down in a cabin in Ukraine as if he’d ever be allowed to have a family, safer than making friends with another Mossad agent and seeing the hole in their head and knowing he hadn’t gotten there fast enough, safer than staying at a school full of children who looked at him like he was anything like a hero until he put a bullet in their headmaster’s spine.  All that had happened when his perception could be trusted, and even that wasn’t the case, now.  He couldn’t trust his own eyes, his own ears, his own mind (that wasn’t even his own, anymore, some part of him reminded him distantly).

Freezing Alex’s blood had been easy, too easy.  Had Scott come a few moments later, he could have killed him:  the man’s brother, Lorna’s boyfriend, one of the many children he considered to be like his own.  Another child to pay the price for his powers, like Anya had.  

No, no.  That wasn’t your fault.  You tried to save them, to save her.  They did it.  You know how humans are: violent, dangerous.  Traitorous--your own coworkers, your own wife, neighbors whose houses you would visit, whose kids you would babysit; they all would have seen you dead.

( It sounds like his mental voice, sounds like Erik himself, and he doesn’t know when the Phoenix learned that.  He can’t even say with any certainty that it isn’t him, the words fitting so neatly into his stream of thoughts that it may well be.  Two layers of thought--Charles had said that was possible, and while he’d never known himself to be aware of it happening in his own mind, usually so carefully linear, it was possible. 

So, he noted absently in a thought that disappeared in the next moment, was the chance that he was losing his mind. )

“Please, Max.  Don’t act like this is news to you,” says the man that haunts his nightmares, where he sits in Erik’s chair like it’s his own, regarding the metallokinetic in his spot in the corner.  He’d hoped the two walls against his back would help.  They aren’t, much--any consolation they would provide is negated by the fact that he’s not certain they’re real at all.  The room keeps shifting around him--lab, gravesite, cabin, field, Raft, park. He remembers a scene from nigh on a century ago when his mother had wrapped him up with a coat to take him to the fair in town and crouched down to cup his cheeks and warned him if you get lost, stay where you are and someone will come find you, and so he refuses to move.  He thinks Scott knows where he is--that memory is clear enough, but then again, so is the man sitting in front of him who should be dead dead dead but yet continues to speak.  “I told you long before Vinnitsa that humans were the enemy.  They’re vermin, compared to us, and you know it.  Scheming.  Deceitful--and so are their sympathizers.” 

Charles, the most vocal of all of them in favor of the humans, who decided to recruit children to the cause for the sake of optics, who worked with the CIA, who got into his head, into Lorna’s head--

“I did warn you, Max.  But you always did need a heavy hand to pick things up, I suppose.”  Shaw, the one from Cuba, wavers, slips into the man Erik had first known him as in the camps, and Erik clenches his hands around his knees as the room shudders back into the lab he’d hated so much.  “Let me give you a hand,” he says, and Erik’s stomach rolls as the prod he’d hated so much comes into sight and the collar around his neck seems to soften into the strap they used to hold him down and then he feels--

Fire.

Licking at his legs, at his arms, singing his clothes but still too far away to catch, as he tears his way through the collapsing house.  He’d seen her fall, from her place in the window, as the floor collapsed underneath, but she was still here, maybe she was more alive than the men laid across their front yard like a battlefield.  “Anya!”  No response, but there was a shoe, and he feels what’s left of his heart plummet straight through the floor like she had because there’s a heap of wood still smoldering but ready to catch ablaze at any moment just a few meters away.  She’s there, but he knows she’s gone before he manages to dig her out.  

The house collapses just a few moments after he’s out, but he doesn’t care about anything but the girl lying limp in his arms like the ragdoll her mother had made for her.  Her mother who was gone, now, in a way that hurt almost worst than the way that his child was gone because she’d chosen it.  He’d only glanced at her for a moment before plunging into the house, after killing the humans who’d held him at bay, but the image was seared into his mind like a brand.  

He’d never seen her look so afraid, so disgusted, and it was directed at him.  

She claimed to love you for years, and look how easily she left.  One glimpse at what you are, and they go running.  Who you are doesn’t matter, only what.  It’ll never matter to them.  

Humans always saw things in black and white, as much as they’d profess to the contrary.  And that black and white was always selfish:  is this for me or against me?  They liked boxes, categories.  The Nazis had exploited it: here, here’s a list of the people you can blame for your problems.  It doesn’t matter how young, how good--the Jews, the Roma, the Sinti, the Slavs, the gays, the ‘asocial’.  Every war in history was based on that tendency to categorization--race, politics, religion, gender.  Us versus Them.  Them versus Us.  And the humans couldn’t, wouldn’t, stop.

Mutants were a team, together--their shared evolution, shared gifts, was a stronger tie than any artificial separations amongst themselves.  They were different, better, more evolved, more capable of working together.  The ‘split’ between the Brotherhood and the Institute had been overhyped to begin with, and never had it been clearer than now, with Xavier’s first and most devoted students now joining with the very group they’d once fought.  It was Charles who had become the sole standout, still too interested in the humans to see the truth.  

No, more than that--he split you to begin with.  He told you to leave, told Raven to do the same, and then let the others paint you as traitors.  He let the X-Men fight you for the sake of human credibility.  You told him you wanted us all to be brothers fighting for the same cause and he didn’t just say no--he made sure it wouldn’t happen.  

( He doesn’t remember reading the situation in Cuba exactly like that, before, but it sounded right.  The memories lined up.  The Phoenix shows you the truth. )

There was a reason Charles had been left out of the preparations he was making.  He couldn’t be trusted--had been far too sympathetic to the humans for too long, had taken on their habit of categorizing.  Us and Them.  Institute and Brotherhood.  

The only Them, the only Us, that mattered were the humans and everyone else, and that wasn’t prejudice but scientific fact.  Humans were less evolved.  Humans were dangerous.  The others tried to live in peace while humans hadn’t had peace for their entire existence.   

Waging war for peace.  A human concept, innately hypocritical, and yet: “Tactics based solely on morality can only succeed when you are dealing with people who are moral or a system that is moral.”  He remembers reading those words in a cafe in Dallas in 1964 like it was yesterday, hearing them ring as true as anything he’d ever heard.  King walked his followers into water cannons and dogs and bullets and asked them to lay down nicely for the cameras while it happened.  X spoke of an eye for an eye, matching guns with guns, dogs with dogs, and Erik remembered all too well that the only reason he’d gotten out of that hell of a camp with Magda was because the people of the camp had fought back and stopped being docile.  

( He couldn’t remember the rest of that saying, though, the phrase slipping from his mind and a moment later he couldn’t tell you there was another half at all. )

His mind shot to the Park, to the images they’d played on TV and that he’d gleaned from Jean’s mind the last time they’d shared headspace.  To the way that his people had been simply enjoying a warm day, harming no one, threatening no one, only to be met with armed enforcers and one of their own dying choking on his own blood in Logan’s arms.  Raven had--

Raven told the Enforcers they were there, but she didn’t make them pull the trigger.  They chose violence, like they always do.  This is what happens if we don’t fight like they do.  

More dead children, one of his greatest fears, the reason he has this blasted collar on in the first place--because Erik will do anything to keep the family he has now safe.  

Anything.  

Anything at all.  

Another shift, back to his own room--but not this one, the one in Brooklyn, the one where he and Jean had nearly taken the building apart in one confrontation that had almost gone as wrong as the one with Alex ( was that just an hour ago?  How long had he had the collar on?  How much time had passed? ).  There’s the haul from L-Corp sitting dismantled on his dining table, and Erik is reading the papers he’d stolen along with everything else, and his stomach feels odd the more he reads.  

Excitement? Fear? Guilt? He didn’t know, he still didn’t know.  The idea had crossed his mind back then but made him feel faintly queasy, doubts and concerns that he could no longer put his finger on making him reluctant to use the data he had the way the bird was whispering to him that he could.  But the feeling he had now looking back on it is something colder than that had been.  Matter-of-fact.  He knew what he needed to do.  

Supergirl agreed with him.  Agreed with the need for safety, agreed with his anger, agreed with everything except wasn’t willing to take the steps he was.  

Help her.  Help her, help us.  

They needed a win against the humans.  They needed it now, because Enforcement wasn’t getting any looser.  Erik’s plan was good, he felt it--he’d gone over much of it with Scott, tweaked the things that needed to be tweaked, and it felt like as good a plan as any.  But nothing was infallible.  

Why deprive yourself of an advantage against an opponent who won’t do the same?  We can help all of them--mutants, inhumans, aliens, metahumans.  We’re doing this to help them.  Any help from any of them is another point to balance the scales in our favor.

War was coming.  Even Scott and Jean believed it to be necessary.  He couldn’t afford to lose.  They couldn’t afford to lose.

Shaw was back, and Erik tried not to shudder as the sensation of the wall morphed into a knee as the man’s voice drifted down from above.  “You’re creative, Max, I’ll give you that.  It’s not the way I’d do it.  Bit more hands-on than a nuke would have been, but that’s the price you pay for trying to spare any of them.  I still say you kill them all--but who knows, you may well end up doing that anyway.”  No.  The threat would work.  It had to work.  The country’s principle of non-negotiation could hardly extend to millions of lives in the balance of their willingness to play ball.  “They’re stupid, we both know that.”

Can he live with the possibility of having that much blood on his hands?  

Can he live with what’ll happen if negotiations fail and he doesn’t?

“You’ve lived through so much, Henryk,” and that was Magda now, and Erik shook his head as if that alone could drive her out.  He didn’t need this.  

“Is there anything that you can’t live with?”  

The lines he drew in the sand have been moving for decades.  Things he swore he’d never do, he’d done, time and time again, promising himself that he still wouldn’t do this thing or that thing until the time came that his hand was forced and it was started all over again.  Even now, he’s doing something he’d promised he wouldn’t, locking his power away for the sake of his family.

He can’t have it all be for nothing.  Can’t live with the thought of being powerless to save his people yet again.  He’s an Omega-class mutant backed by Omega-class mutants.  He’s sharing the Phoenix Force.  He has to win.  He has to.  He has to. 

No matter the cost.

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

The Guard and The Grounder

*Not my Gif*

Request: Bellamy Blake x Grounder!Reader Maybe? If you feel like it?

Request: Anon

Post Date: 7-23-19

Word Count: 1.9K

~Prompt List~

~Master List~

Requests are closed, Tags are open!

The calmness of the forest soothes you as you pushed your head back against the tree you were leaning on, closing your eyes as you take in a deep breath. You’re used to early mornings like this, ones where you could lose yourself in your head.

“I knew you’d be out here.” Lincoln said behind you as you jumped a little. You gave him a curt smile before turning your head back to the sky, trying to ignore him as he came closer, against your best wishes.

“Is there a reason you needed to interrupt me?” You questioned as you gave him an actual smile as he laughed.

“Just checking in. I’m going to be busy the next few days-“

“Catching up with a certain skygirl?” You mocked as Lincoln looked to the ground. You knew how much your good friend cared for Octavia and you found it endearing. “Go on. I’ll be around.”

He nodded his head before putting his hand on your shoulder. “Ste klir.” He said as you smirked up at him.

“Come on, since when am I not safe?” You yelled as he made his way away from you. The sun had reached over the tree tops in a matter of seconds and soon your day began. Lincoln has prepared you every time he was leaving, lasting you enough supplies while he now spent his time in some cave waiting for Octavia to show up every so often instead of his typical alone time. You didn’t mind, you liked the alone time but you always envied what Lincoln had with her. Your mind was racing with thoughts as a branch snapped, pulling you to attention as you scanned the trees seeing movement a little in front of you, heading your way. You knew you were screwed if it was a sky person or a grounder, both either not trusting you or wanting to kill you. The grounders didn’t trust you after the bridge incident because you had been by Lincoln’s side as you worked along with the sky people.

You carefully snuck around the tree hoping it would cover you until the person was gone. Much to your disappointment, they stopped meters from the tree, looking around for something. You took your chance to see who it was, quickly figuring it wasn’t a grounder by his clothes and gun. Your eyes locked before you took off running, hearing his footsteps behind you as you ran faster. You weren’t sure how long you were running for but you ignored the persons shouts as you jumped over logs. You thought you were doing good until your foot snagged a branch sticking out of a tree, causing you to plummet to the ground onto your face.

“Fuck!” You yelled as you rolled over rubbing a soon to be bump on your head as the man came to a stop.

“You speak English?” He questioned pointing his gun in your face. How nice, who said chivalry is dead? You shot him an unimpressed look as you tried to get up, only for him to shake his head. Giving up, you leaned back on your hands.

“Of course I speak English. You’ve never talked to a grounder before?” You could see his smirk as you cocked your head, still glaring at you.

“Yeah, last grounder I met didn’t do much talking.” His face dropped as you started to smirk.

“Ah, so you’re Bellamy. The one who tortured my friend. I’m Y/N. Now why don’t you help me up.” You suggested as your hand shot out, he looked between your hand and your face, deciding what to do before tucking his gun into his pants before pulling you to your feet. You couldn’t help as your eyes traveled from his arm across his body then up to his head, coming to the fast conclusion that he wasn’t the worst looking person you’ve seen. Not by a long shot. You gave him one last look before taking off again.

“Damn it.” He mumbled as he started running too. After a while of running in circles you slowed down, deciding to finally talk to him.

“Why are you chasing me?” You yelled as he panted, stopping almost in front of you. His hands fell onto his hips, pushing his jacket away from his body a little.

“Why are you running?” You laughed at that seeing the look he was giving you. Bellamy couldn’t look away, the way your hair sprawled across your face as you looked up to him and smirked, the way you weren’t afraid to call him out as soon as you realized who he was. He admitted fast that you intrigued him and that’s why he chased after you the second time, even if you were a grounder.

“Typically, when someone chases you, you run.”

“Well you ran before I could chase you .”

“Well maybe I was just running from conversation.” You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten in your spats until his hand was on your wrist, pulling you the final steps to him. You were shocked, you never let anyone get this close to you except Lincoln and even with him it took years until you let him close, but now here you are face barely a foot from his and you made no move to pull away. “So what? You trust grounders now?”

Bellamy knew what you were getting at but he didn’t care, for some reason it was different. You, you were different.

“Don’t worry, I’m not technically one of them anymore. Still a grounder but not one of those grounders.” You admitted as your gaze finally lowered, taking a step back as Bellamy’s hold on your wrist didn’t loosen. “This is when you let go of me.” You whispered as Bellamy finally released you. You took another step back as Bellamy and you shared a look before you turned around to leave him, throwing him a wink as you do so. “I’ll see you around Bellamy.”

That wasn’t the last time you and Bellamy saw each other, you were caught by Mount Weather a few days after the sky people had blow up their camp. You knew it was an important decision on their part but you hated the fact that Lincoln left you to care for Octavia. You were sitting in your cage in the mountain, tired from the blood drain as they threw a person in the cage next to you. You quickly recognized the curly black hair when the men left.

“Bellamy?” You whispered thinking your voice was going to give out as his eyes shot to yours, searching for some sort of familiarity before he gasped.

“Y/N... you’re alive.” He muttered as you worked your breathing to be even out, nodding your head. Bellamy had looked for you after the explosion, hoping you weren’t one of the grounders that were burned but he remembered what you said, you weren’t a grounder and that was the only thing that gave him hope he’d see you again. But he didn’t want it to be like this. Your skin was pale, bags lining your eyes as your face sunk. You could barely lift your fraile fingers to the cage where Bellamy met them, holding them as a tear fell from your eye.

“W-why are you here?” You croaked out, trying not to let him see you broken. But it was no use.

“I’ll get you out of here, I promise.” He said as the door opened again. He started to bang on the cage door like the other grounders as you shook your head at him. He listened to you, holding his breath before your cage door started to be unlocked. You knew you couldn’t handle another draining, so you fought back, kicking the man as he grabbed your legs. Bellamy was quick to slap his hands against his cage, getting their attention as they decided he was a better drain. They shoved you back into your cage before pulling Bellamy out and stringing him up against your pleads. Time passed slowly as you watched Bellamy’s blood travel out of his body and you couldn’t hold back the tears and sobs breaking you down.

“Y/N!” Someone yelled as you were shook awake. You apparently had passed out from the lack of energy or something because now as you wake up, Bellamy was freed from his restraints and in front of you.

“Bell-B-Bellamy?” He pulled you out of the cage as you threw your arms around his neck and he settled his arms around your waist, burying your head into his neck. He told you to get the rest of the grounders out while he saved his people and you listened.

Lexa betrayed Skaikru. You left the mountain and Lexa broke her deal with Clarke and casted you and Lincoln to the side. You were happy to see your best friend again but you were worried more about Bellamy, locked inside the mountain. You worked along side Skaikru to defeat the Mountain Men, watching as Clarke and Bellamy pulled the radiation lever. Bellamy turned to look at you as you turned to look at the screen, seeing his people being used for bone marrow before nodding your head to him, telling him to do it. When it was done you grabbed his hand before he pulled you against his body again. You didn’t want to leave this moment, thinking at one point you were going to die and now you’re here in his arms.

You didn’t know what to do after the massacre. You didn’t trust Lexa, having hoped after Anya’s death and the new alliance you could’ve been welcomed back but that fell apart.

“Why don’t you just stay here?” Bellamy blurted out as you stood in front of the gates for their camp. Your eyes widened, not quite sure what you should say.

“You really think that’s a good idea? I mean, would you really want me too?” You implored as you bit your lip, hoping more than anything he’d say yes because quite honestly, you wanted to stay. Bellamy only smiled at you, a smile that could’ve warmed your heart for a thousand years if he’d let it. His hand found yours as he pulled you into the camp, you giggled a little at his actions.

The months went by as you and Bellamy got closer. He told you all about his time on the ark and you told him about growing up on the ground. You officially became a couple a month after the massacre, enjoying the last two months with the man you were growing to love.

At this moment, you were both laying in your shared bed, the quietness of the room reminding you of all those moments you spent alone in the forest. Your back was pressed up against Bellamy’s shirtless chest, one of his arms pulled under your head as you played with his fingers. His other arm was wrapped around your waist as he pressed soft kisses against your shoulder and you squirmed against the tickling feeling. You spun around in his hold, causing him to groan under your shuffle before you settled with your hands against his chest and his around your waist, locking you in. You couldn’t help but chuckle a little as Bellamy pulled back to look at you more clearly.

“What’s so funny to you?” You looked up at him before pressing a tender kiss against his lips. He didn’t argue back as you felt his smile before pulling away.

“The guard and the grounder. Who would’ve thought?” You started as you traced your finger against his chest, biting your lip.

“Well you’re technically not a grounder.”

“And you’re technically not a guard.”

“Guess we’re just us then.” You knew you were smiling more than you ever had before, being more happy these last months than you have ever felt in your life.

“Yeah. Us.”

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[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Drunk Punch Love: INTERMISSION ARCHANGEL

Pairing: FemShep and Garrus Vakarian (Shakarian)

Rating: PG-13 (with some tossed F-bombs)

Summary: Their awkward, badass journey through saving the galaxy and accidentally falling in love

INTERMISSION ARCHANGEL: 10 Days 

Garrus could hardly stomach the funeral. He was surrounded by countless stiff shirts and big banners and people who knew her as the Commander, the savior.

He didn't want to think about how few of them actually knew her. It made him feel sick.

But he was stuck thinking about them, because thinking about the fact she wasn't here to make fun of all the dumb revelry, or sneak away with him to pester gunners about their stocks, made it far worse. It was like he had a bleeding wound in his chest and it wouldn't fucking stop, and everyone else was just figuring out how to sign each other's casts.

Bright spots were family speeches; Anderson, Joker, and Admiral Shepard stepping up and talking about the woman before the hero. That was the kind of things he wanted to think about: Anya, getting her first pointe shoes on the same birthday she got her first gun. Anya, the loud snorer who failed the tests she studied and aced the ones she didn't. Anya, who never took the Alliance seriously until she went on her first mission, because the second she got a taste of saving people, it changed her.

Hearing stories that sounded even the smallest bit like the Anya Shepard he knew was so much better than all the pomp and circumstance bullshit happening around it.

When it got to the reception, he wasn't even sure if he should stay. He couldn't look Joker and Kaidan in the eyes, knowing their stubborn asses were why she wasn't here. And the rest of the crew? They didn't understand what happened that day. They didn't understand how the Collector ship ripped everything he thought was solid and strong to shreds.

That was the extra bullshit; only Shepard would spook an otherwise mythical species back into existence. Nothing normal could ever take her down.

But it was that part about her getting taken down that was still fucking him up.

Hell, maybe the other two didn't deserve as much blame. He could've dragged her into that escape pod, but like the rest, he listened to her orders and let her go.

Garrus should've known "I'll find you" was heroic bullshit.

Instead of listening to another person ooze about said heroism, he shoved past a frightened looking Kaidan and walked out of the memorial. Guy half looked like he thought Garrus might've been serious about his threat. He hadn't contemplated killing Kaidan, not really, but maybe that would make him feel better, replace his own bleeding heart with something else.

Walking around the Citadel, he didn't know how, but he ended up at a bar. And he ordered the strongest drink he could think of, Krogan ryncol, but he couldn't stomach swallowing it. He just ended up staring down at the bottom of the glass, wondering what Shepard would say to him.

Suddenly, a voice that sounded a little too familiar was talking to him. "You just came from the service, right?" Garrus had to blink a few times as he looked up. In front of him was a blonde, weathered woman in Alliance garb, with one robotic, blue eye and a green one that he knew too well. All throughout her face, there were echoes of the woman he was aching to hear from, but it wasn't her. She extended a hand. "Oksana Shepard. I couldn't stand the fluff, either. And if you salute me right now, I'll punch you."

He took her hand and gestured to the seat next to him. That last part also sounded familiar. "Garrus Vakarian."

"You're one of the strays she picked up for her mission tracking down Saren. From the reports I swiped, she thought highly of you."

Any other day, he'd take that as a compliment. But right now, it just felt like another concussive shot to the chest. "The feeling was mutual."

"How was she doing, at the end? And not the savior of the citadel pride that she lied to me about."

Garrus traced the rim of his glass with his talon, not really sure if this was a conversation or an interrogation. The seriousness in Admiral Shepard's voice hinted towards the latter. But her rank didn't make him feel any easier about it. Garrus said, "I don't know-"

"I respect your loyalty to her, but she's dead, Vakarian. Let me know my daughter."

Swallowing, he saw where Shepard got her intensity. He finally sucked it up and downed some of the ryncol. Garrus tried his best not to picture her face too much; it made it hurt worse. "She was struggling. Losing Ash... our Gunnery Chief, it really dug into her problems with Akuze. And after Saren, the rest of us were moving on. She didn't like that, either. I didn't know until the end how much. If the Collectors hadn't hit, I probably would've changed my plans and stayed, help her get ready for the next fight. But I guess that's not an option now."

"You two were close?"

He could feel Shepard's hand in his, calloused but small and holding onto him like he was a lifeline. And he could hear her in his ear, telling him how he reminded her to be human. And he even could feel her breath on his cheek, practically begging him not to go, but then-

Garrus downed the rest of the vile drink. Before he answered, his other hand fisted the fabric of his pants and his talons dug into his flesh. "Yeah, we were close."

Next to him, Admiral Shepard hit her fist into the table. "I want to blame her comrades, like you. I want to blame myself for making a soldier out of a dancer. I even want to blame my Anya. But it doesn't matter, because my beautiful little foolish detenysh is gone and I'm alone."

"Detenysh?"

For the first time since she sat down, Admiral Shepard smiled. "My crew used to call me the mother bear of the Alliance. So when she was born, they called her the cub. My little cub. My detenysh. It's-"

"Russian. Shepard mentioned it."

"She told you a lot, didn't she?" Admiral Shepard was putting a hand on his shoulder, and it was hard to make out her expression. Unlike his Commander, who spoke with her whole face, the Admiral only made the subtletest movements. "Were you and my daughter...?"

For that one, Garrus could be firm. Or, at least, fairly honest. "No. Shepard was my best friend."

With an eyebrow raised, the Admiral kept going. "Okay, sure, but did you two ever-"

"No!" Garrus realized he said it a little too loud a little too late. Despite his answer, the Admiral had this uncomfortable smirk on her face. He didn't want to be looked at like that. Especially not by someone who looked so much like... Rubbing his forehead, he tried to clear things up. "Nothing like that happened between the Commander and I."

Admiral Shepard shrugged. "Too bad. My daughter struggled to connect with people. But I suppose a best friend will do." Taking a deep sigh, she leaned on his shoulder to stand up, looking older than her years. "Thank you, for being her friend. Now, I'd love to embarrass some stories out of you, but I'm sure the Alliance leadership isn't happy I disappeared. And I probably need to save Joker from politics." With way too heavy a hand, she patted his back. "Best of luck, Garrus Vakarian."

And she walked off, just like that.

He'd love to say that the conversation comforted him. But if anything, it only made him angrier. If Shepard was here, she'd laugh with him about how goddamn awkward that was, and she'd tell him stories about how her mom always pried like that. Something.

Instead, he just got to sit here silence, alone.

No matter what the hell he and Shepard were, clearly they were getting somewhere, their friendship mattered. All that talk she had of not being a good enough hero? Somehow, he felt like he was helping her wash that self-loathing and doubt away. And she had definitely been making a better man out of him. Hell, he was ready to ship himself off to the Spectres for the chance the help the galaxy like she did.

But one goddamn laser and none of that mattered anymore.

Well, one goddamn laser and two idiot men who he knew were just doing their jobs, but dammit, he wished they did them better.

All he had left was his empty glass and a mirage of a woman across the table from him, her soft brown hair falling out of its ties, giggling over childhood romance and her own loneliness. Her green eyes squinted away when she laughed, because she always laughed with her whole face, kinda like she was about to sneeze. And he'd never see that again.

Okay, it was time to leave the bar.

Garrus wasn't quite sure when he started walking towards the Alliance shore leave apartments, trying to find out if there was anything left of her there. But when he got there, to the one she'd shown him their first time on the Citadel, her name plate was already gone.

Goddamn everything he knew about her was just slipping away and he couldn't stop it.

Staring at the empty plate, he lost any level of self-control. Pounding his fists against the door, he just wanted the pain to go away. Or better, he wanted her to open this damn door, tell him it was all just some awful, elaborate undercover mission and she was back and they could be like they were before.

But he only got a few pounds in before a door opened across the hall. Lucky man he was, it was old brown eyes and biotics himself, Lieutenant Alenko.

When their gazes met, he could see the fear in Alenko's eyes. He'd seen that kind of fear before, normally from new-to-space humans who assumed turians were angry, war-hungry monsters.

Between him and Alenko, though, they knew exactly why he should be afraid of him.

Before he could even get in a word, Garrus put his forearm against his chest and shoved him against the wall. "Because of you, she's not here anymore. Do you even have anything to say about that?"

He knew he was probably going too far, and he could tell from how Kaidan was breathing that he was putting a lot of pressure on his windpipe. But frankly, he didn't give a damn. It took a moment, but Kaidan finally said, "I'm sorry, Garrus. I fucked up. I-" Garrus just pushed harder.

Out of nowhere, Kaidan's door opened and Liara came out, in an Alliance robe, clutching a fistful of biotics. "Garrus, put him down."

Of all the things he wanted to do, his favorite would be to shove Kaidan through some Presidium glass and see the shatter patterns, but he listened. After all, maybe telling them what assholes they were would make them feel worse than some broken bones. Garrus crossed his arms and said, "Riiight, I remember Shepard told me you two hooked up. Well, congratulations, without your pathetic crushes on her you wouldn't be here together. You get to be happy. But she's not here, and you both know that's bullshit."

Kaidan started, "I think we should all just-"

When he flicked his glare over to him, the biotic stopped dead. "I don't take orders from you."

"Garrus, she wouldn't want you to do this." His head turned to Liara, and it felt like she was peeling away his plating with a welding knife. "I know how you feel-"

"None of you understand how I feel." He didn't want to be any closer to Liara, and he definitely didn't want to admit there was anything right to what she was saying, but slowly the ache started winning over the anger. "Fuck, I just need to go."

They might have called for him another time or two, but he didn't listen. He just wanted to be off this damn station, and anywhere but here.

He was over the Alliance and their bullshit; the only thing good about it was Shepard and now she was gone. Without her, all he wanted to do was go somewhere her memory hadn't infested.

Without even heading back to his old apartment, Garrus booked the first passage to Palaven.

///

This is a fun littler Intermission I wanted to do, exploring Garrus' side of things during the two years Shepard is gone. But it's only a few chapters, then we'll be back to Part 2.

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