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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

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Ok, but how would the Shadow get along with Superman?

I'm gonna try something a little different with this ask, because I couldn't really find the right words to answer it the way I usually do. So instead I took the more complicated route and ended up writing a fanfic of sorts, about potential interactions between these two I could think of.

I don't think I'll make a habit out of answering replies through fanfic but, I don't know, something about this question kinda demanded from me a different type of answer. I never wrote Superman before but I do need to get back to writing.

So here you go, the Shadow - Superman fanfic I wrote to answer this. Hope you enjoy.

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They were not friends. They were not enemies. They had their separate worlds to watch over, and rarely did they cross each other. Rarely did they meet under desirable circumstances.

The Shadow, as Superman knew him, was not a part of Superman's world. In more ways than one.

Clark knew that he was a man who was mainly active during the 1930s and 40s, that he had been a crimefighter active in the United States during that time, that he has some connection to Bruce and other heroes he knew, and that he has an associate related to Lois named Margo, but somehow, Clark could never find him on his own accord.

Even when he time traveled to said period, he could never find him. Lois and Margo share a bloodline, but Lois does not recall what exactly of what sort, not even under Clark's machines. When he asked some of The Shadow's associates, they could not recall him, and Clark knew for a fact they could not have been lying. Some of them existed in this world but with "ordinary" lives, and others didn't.

Although he seemed to come from an alternate world,there were times when The Shadow appeared to have history in this world as well. Real, tangible history, that seems to be willed out of thin air and to dissappear when Clark goes looking for it. Even Bruce seems to not remember him, and Bruce's the one who seemed to have spent the most time in his presence.

He couldn't quite say he looked fondly on his meetings with The Shadow, if he could be honest with himself. He was cold, remote, harsh and manipulative. He murdered criminals without remorse, something that even he admitted had soured his relationship with Bruce, and terrorized those he fought to a much greater extent than even Batman, who Clark already thought was going too far at times.

Clark knew he was not an evil man, he was certain of the compassion within him that thundered to protect the innocent, but Clark could hardly be certain of how much he knew about him in the first place. Clark, who could see through crowds and make a shopping list out of what each person had eaten for breakfest that morning, could not identify The Shadow's face through his mask, could not see what was behind his eyes.

Clark is extremely aware of the standards he must adhere to in order to operate as Superman, the ways in which he must be held accountable as someone operating above and within society. He understands the importance of his friends and allies that can stop and defeat him, the family he must look after, the reputation he must uphold, the control over his powers and a lifetime of experience in holding himself back. At times he was even grateful for the existence of Kryptonite as a desperate measure. He knows that Bruce goes through a lot of measures to keep himself in check as well.

But he knows little about The Shadow, who works for him, why they do so, who can hold him accountable, who is going to help him when he can't help himself. He worries about what his world must look like, to create a man like him, brainwashing people and gunning down criminals in the streets while laughing. How much good can such a man do if this is what his approach to justice looks like? What is the toil that such a grim approach to life has taken on this man's life?

He knows that overthinking is one of his worse flaws, but Superman can't help but dwell sometimes on the worlds he cannot save, on those that must take on such realities. He only wishes he knew how to find The Shadow of his own accord and try to bring peace to the man, even if he knows better than to assume peace is what he's looking for.

It is the nature of Superman to never stop trying to bring everyone to a world beyond death, darkness and sorrow, and to blame himself for those he cannot save even from themselves.

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It was a well-known fact that The Shadow always worked alone. And like most known facts about him, it was not entirely accurate.

The Shadow strives to cultivate the image that he's alone, untouchable, that all who work for him do so because he forces them to. That he always tells those he saves that their lives belong to him, that they are trembling slaves to a monster sniffing blood in gutters.

Distractions, lies, smokescreens he must create, to allow his agents to operate as spies, and spare them from the wrath of the police and the criminal underworld alike, too busy hunting a legend to notice the flesh and blood people working under their noses, people they would otherwise be all too happy to neglect or stomp on.

Misdirection, the secret of any magic trick. The true secret of The Shadow's invisibility.

There are days where the only positive thought in his mind is that his agents cannot join him wherever he goes.

The success of The Shadow depended heavily on the vast networks of agents and allies he'd gathered over the years, people from all walks of life who trusted him and had chosen to join him. Every courageous move, sacrifice and pivotal role they played was carefully recorded in his files, and never forgotten. They had skills and capabilities The Shadow did not, and The Shadow was proud to see the ways in which they would cultivate those into the betterment of the world around him.

And though the bridge between them was unassailable, though his ways and actions were secret and mysterious to them and they could never know more than he allowed, they received constant signs of The Shadow’s appreciation of their reliable cooperation, and at many points The Shadow had made said bridge less unassailable for their sake.

But they were not his friends. His allies were distant and occupied with fights The Shadow could assist, but not fight for them. His agents were subordinates rather than equals, expected to play the necessary parts and leave the scene for their own safety just as quickly. His friends were few, and often dead. And when it was the moment of danger, The Shadow fought alone. The protection of others came above all else, and on field, although they were expected to think and strategize for themselves and work together, The Shadow's word was final.

There could be no distractions, no hesitations. Those had cost him more than enough on the battlefields of the Great War, mistakes he would never repeat again. The sacrifice of companionship, his own personhood and self-preservation is an acceptable loss for the sake of those he must protect.

There are occasions when The Shadow is forced into circumstances beyond what logic and physics should allow, and in some of those occasions, Superman had been involved in them. There are occasions also where he has to work side by side with other vigilantes, and sometimes, they also include Superman.

He couldn't quite say he looked forward to working with Superman. His arrival almost inevitably carried chaos into the inner workings of reality. The existence of an omnipotent being able to crack planets with a footstep and liquefy crowds with a gaze, held back only by his human personality, was a danger that thankfully did not exist in The Shadow's own world, but was a worrying prospect regardless.

Few of his experiences with aliens and superpowered warriors could be said to be positive ones, and a lifetime of knowing the evil in the hearts of men had taught The Shadow how easily even the best of intentions and the most solid of morals could be corroded and destroyed. It didn't help matters that this being was also a public crusader and celebrity passing judgement on criminals, even while secretly holding a private dimensional prison to throw them into should they be sufficiently dangerous. Someone completely unstoppable and unaccountable, even to death itself.

The Shadow understood Superman to be a good man, a moral man who had been raised well to be the best he could. The Shadow respected and treasured the existence of those like him, men and women and everything in between that could breathe in the sun and uphold mankind, while he dwelled in the underworld to make sure those more like him would not rise to attack them.

But whatever the rewards of these partnerships, he was glad when they were over. His work requires full control. He cannot tolerate the loss of it.

Others can dream of better tomorrows and work to make them happen, his is the task of clearing the darkest paths so others need not tread them.

Hope, light and comfort are noble gifts, but they are not his to give.

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The first time they met had been the result of Vandal Savage's Hypertime Collider, a trap designed to keep Superman running circles through the timestreams, cycling through alternate versions of himself. He had landed in the 1930s, somewhat depowered, in a world where some allies of his existed, but superheroes were nowhere to be found (although some people reacted in terror at him, shouting "IT'S DANNER! HE'S COME BACK TO KILL US!", the significance of which was lost on Clark).

He had met a woman named Margo Lane when looking for this world's Lois, telling her he was a farmboy from Kansas lost in the big city looking for a friend with the same last name. Margo didn't recognize anyone named Lois, and Clark could tell she was only pretending to believe his story (even though it was true, in a sense), but through her, he met a tall, gaunt and hawk-like millionaire by the name of Lamont Cranston, a name Clark recognized from an old radio show Jonathan used to listen.

He had an idea of who The Shadow was. An old detective from a radio show or pulp magazines, sure, Superman's been to worlds he used to think were fictional before, some people still think he's as real as Santa Claus (who was going to join him and the Easter Bunny for checkers next Sunday).

Their conversation of platitudes was cut short, as it wasn't long before the Hypertime Collider was soon transporting him to a different time period, but before he was ejected, he remembered the moment their conversation ended.

Shortly before he could feel the Collider breaking and warping time and space in a chokehold around him, he remembered an eerie silence fall on the room. Though his hearing senses in this world were diminished, he could still pick up minute sounds from miles away, and it was a strange sensation to hear the sound of nothing. A sound that did not exist but silenced everything around it with deafening precision, a sound that Clark had not heard even in the deepest recesses of space, when he could still hear his body's metabolism at work. For a moment, though he did not need it to survive, Clark worried his heart had stopped working, for he could not hear it.

It surely was the Collider's effect at work, he reasoned.

But in that brief moment, whatever surprise he expected to find on Cranston's expression was nowhere to be found. Instead, scattered shadows slashed across his face as the air around him changed and he closed his eyes. He was still wearing Cranston's face when he opened them, and once again, they did not match his face.

The last thing he remembered before his ejection was a voice that cut through the air and the meters separating them, that sounded like a python hissing in Clark's ear, from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"This is not your world."

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The second time was in another dimensional sojourn, this time of his volition.

Having borrowed a portal from Cyberwear Enterprises, Clark was rehearsing a speech intended for the Reginellian people of the Bohren System, one he was expected to give through blinking in reverse morse code, and in order to ensure the atmosphere of their planet would allow them to hear him, Clark intended to pay them a visit. But instead, he was transported somewhere else.

Before he could properly register the time period and location he had landed, he had encountered The Shadow in the middle of rescuing a steamship on fire from sinking.

He was clinging to the side of it unseen from the panicking passangers, drilling bullet holes to the bottom of the ship so it would fall to the side and steer clear from a passing fireworks yacht. He was holding a rope attached to a nearby tugboat with one hand, and with the other he was clinging to the boat's window. The tugboat was moving outside of the steamship's range, and as it moved, it would drag The Shadow and tilt the steamship as he gripped it, just enough to prevent the steamship from colliding head-on with the coming barge.

The tugboat had three men within it, one piloting it and two holding on to the rope that The Shadow had attached, working along with The Shadow to try and pull the steamship. One of these men had a missing eye and was dressed in aviator gear, presumably the pilot of the autogyro atop the tugboat. The other was a tall, muscular black man in suspenders, who dwarfed the pilot in both size and strength.

The strain of their pull could dislocate The Shadow's arms at the very minimum, if not outright kill him, his plunge would carry him 20 feet into the water and potentially under the sinking steamship. Still, they pulled with grim determination, although the boat driver had his eyes closed, and Clark recognized the Yiddish mutterings coming from his mouth as a desperate prayer.

Though they did not see him, these men were extremely thankful when Superman had blown out the inferno with a single breath, and pushed the boat all the way necessary for it's passangers to land on the barge safely, and rescued The Shadow.

Of course they knew the Chief was gonna pull through, he always does.

If The Shadow was thankful for Superman's interference, he didn't show it. In the second he had regained enough strength to talk, he rattled off dozens of names, of passangers in the steamship that had been bruised, by either the flames, the panicking crowd, or the criminals that The Shadow had stopped. People that needed to be taken to medical assistance faster than the ambulances could carry them, of family members that had to be contacted.

He did so without looking at his rescuer, for he remembered Superman, who expected his presence in this timeline to have been erased after he'd destroyed the Hypertime Collider.

Nothing indicated it hadn't been.

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Their most recent encounter was the outcome of an accident where Vandal Savage had trapped Superman in the Arctic and rebuilt his Hypertime Collider, in the hopes of contacting alternate versions of himself so they could all gain Superman's powers and conquer their worlds.

One of said versions was hunted by The Shadow through the portals. The adventure ended rather quickly as the Savages all turned on each other in their tried-and-true method of solving problems with large rocks, but amidst the chaos, a final burst of energy had granted The Shadow a temporary access to Superman's powers.

Thoughts passed through Clark's head of the last time Bruce had accidentally gained access to Superman's abilities, and how despite his best intentions, Bruce couldn't help but overestimate his own ability to wield said powers responsibly. Of how many times he's come across iterations of Bruce who've gained superpowers and used them poorly or tyranically.

He thought of how often he needed to reign himself back, and of the man in black who stood before him, with eyes like thunderstorms ready to break.

The ways in which he is like Bruce, and the ways in which he is decidedly not.

But before Superman could take any sort of action or even ask how he was feeling, The Shadow turned around silently and started walking, straight in the direction of the Fortress of Solitude.

Upon reaching it, he took the million-ton key from beneath the rug that spelled Welcome in a million languages, opened the door, and walked straight into a high security anti-Superman cell within it, designed specifically as a desperate measure against rogue Kryptonians, only stating Superman was going to have to watch him so he couldn't escape.

Clark had never even told him about the Fortress.

He stayed there for the next 12 hours, as Superman ran tests on him to ensure his body wouldn't be negatively affected by the transformation. Clark chose not to remark that some of the bone-deep injuries he had spotted on The Shadow's body previously had healed, as he knew it wouldn't take long for him to acquire new ones after this was over.

They talked briefly at points, and for much of it, The Shadow assumed the façade of Cranston. Sometimes he remembered to breathe and blink, things he forgot to do with startling ease once he no longer needed them.

Clark understood it to be a diplomatic gesture, a façade over the untameable and fearsome Shadow who was frankly unnerving to be around. Even a kind gesture, an effort to address Superman as a man asking for help. Not different than how Superman would prefer to be Clark Kent in order to approach people and ask questions and say things that Superman could never say.

There was a discomfort, of course. There would always be one between the two.

Still, Superman took it as a victory when, after the 12 hours were over, he heard that familiar hiss, with equal intensity but no aggression or even contempt, spell out a "Thank you", as he turned around and was unsurprised to find The Shadow no longer there.

They were not friends, they were not enemies, they belonged to different worlds. They were opposites in their battles for truth and justice.

But truths are often opposite. It is a truth that not all opposites are opposed.

Truth is often as chilling as it can be comforting.

#replies tag #superman #the shadow #clark kent #lamont cranston #my writing #i gotta start putting more of my writing out there and idk i just felt like i had to answer this question this way #i don't question what my brain tells me to do anymore

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catxsnow · 4 years ago

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I want to see Tim go absolutely feral.

Tim Drake, the guy who always has the right intentions, even with the sometimes wrong means of doing so. The guy that always seems to know what he's doing and is always one step ahead. The guy that always has everything under control because he's already planned everything out from the moment he steps into a room.

It always seems that he's so in control of every situation that nothing could go wrong. It's true for the longest time. Bruce trusts Tim to keep everyone safe on his own. If there's anyone that's going to get every civilian out alive, it's him. Everyone knows that Tim won't ever cross that line.

Until he does.

It was an accident, it really was. Tim had been getting stronger, his moves more agile than ever before. He didn't realize just how hard he could swing his bo-staff and just how precise a hit to the temple could be. Tim didn't realize that he had taken the last breath of a man until it was too late.

He wasn't scared of what Bruce was going to say, or Dick, or Jason - or anyone. That wasn't what he was scared of. It wasn't that he was petrified at how easy it was to kill someone. No, Tim was scared because everything that he had ever done finally clicked into place. Why was he the one that had to risk his life to save the bad guys? Why was he the one that needed to reach the brink of death just so that some scumbag could live and breathe again?

Tim couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't keep putting himself out there when he knew there was a better way. And so he did the one thing Batman refused to do: he killed. Tim broke free of this ridiculous rule that Bruce instilled into him. He was tired of it, tired of coming home broken and bruised.

They were minor at first - criminals scumbags that had no family and no one to miss them. Breaking free of Batman's vice grip of justice to find his own way - the better way. His brother's trying to bring him back before it was too late. His friends were unsure of what happened to their headstrong leader.

Tim got lost in the darkness far quicker than some of their enemies. He worked his way up from petty criminals to the ones that really matter. Boomerang. Calculator. Clock King. Kid Crusader. Mad Hatter. Joker. Ra's al Ghul.

It's Ra's that finally tips the scales. His brother's siding with Bruce on his quest to stop Tim. Cassie and Bart realizing that Tim has completely lost his moral sense of direction. It's Kon that stays with him. Kon believed in his best friend because Tim has never proven him wrong.

It's when he's standing above Ra's dead body does everyone realizes just how far he's gone. The league in shambles, blood soaking his hands, the criminals of Gotham - hell, of the world are starting to fear the Robin that they never had to worry about before. Everyone is scared because Tim's lost it.

Tim's gone completely feral against his enemies because he's so fucking bad at himself for wasting his years bedridden and in pain when he could have been doing this all along. He's pissed at Bruce for persuading him to fall under his moral code and keep everyone alive. Why is it his choice that everyone gets to live?

Why does the Bat get to decide that the people that have killed so many get to keep breathing themselves? He shouldn't have that power. No one deserves to say that people like Joker get to keep living after everything they've done. Tim couldn't stand by anymore - whether or not Bruce agreed with his plans.

So when the day comes that Bruce has to face his son, it's horrendous. It's not very often that Tim has seen Bruce cry. Damian's death. Jason coming back to life. Dick getting shot in the head by KGBeast. There are very few cases that Bruce breaks down. Seeing Tim for the first time since Boomerang's death? That was one of those times.

Tim's bo-staff is blood-stained. His knuckles bruised and scarred far worse than ever before. New cuts on facing from facing his foes like never before. It's not the physicality of it all that makes Bruce like this. It's the look in Tim's eyes that breaks his heart.

The look of someone who doesn't care that they've killed, that takes pride in those that they've killed. Tim's got that empty, horrendous look in his eyes that Bruce has only ever seen that look in the people that Tim's already killed. No one came back once they had that look in their eyes.

It's that night that Tim realizes that he can't have anyone getting in his way - not when the safety of everyone is at stake. Why stop at the Joker or Ra's? Lex, Deathstroke, hell even Darkseid? Why let those people roam free when they can be stopped? Tim has the power, he's always had the power to put an end to it.

It was Bruce's code that held him back before, and now, it was Bruce himself. So Tim gives him the ultimatum - stay out of his way, or become an enemy. If there was one thing about Batman that Tim knew, it was that he was never going to stand aside when someone was in harm's way.

So what was Tim supposed to do? Let Bruce take him to Arkham to miraculously bring him back to his old self? Nothing about him had changed - he was still the same boy he once was. The difference was now his mind had been cleared of all tainting Bruce had cast on him. Tim couldn't lose to Bruce, not when he still had so much work to do.

Tim did what he had to. He did what no one else in Gotham managed to do. He got rid of the Bat, once and for all.

With Bruce Wayne gone, Tim had no one holding him back. No one to try and sway his moral compass that all this killing was wrong. No one to stop him from cleaning up the world from people that didn't deserve another breath. Batman was gone, and it was Tim's turn to be the protector of Gotham - the right way to protect Gotham.

It was at that moment did everyone realize just how far he was willing to go. Clark, who swore that Bruce could bring his son back home. Dick, who was horrified that Tim was able to go as far as to kill his adoptive father. Kon, who swore that Tim always knew what was right, suddenly faltering at every choice he's made.

Kon, who realizes that this whole time that he was back Tim up, that he was only pushing his father and father towards the edge. Killing Bruce, that had been the final push to get him to fall. Tim would never be able to return to that ledge, not when he had dived headfirst off of it. Kon, who realized that he was the one that was encouraging his best friend to become a monster.

Dick, who knows that he has to face Tim for what he's done. Dick, who tries to stand up against his little brother who murdered their father. Dick, who's on his knees, pleading for Tim to realize what he was doing and that he was going too far. He could forgive him for Ra's, JOker, hell all the other petty criminals that had been disposed of. But Bruce?

Bruce who had given them so much had created this life for them when they had nothing else. Dick couldn't look past that, he could never look past that.

When Tim gives him the ultimatum - the same one that he had given Bruce - Dick can't accept. He can't get on board with this, this mad way of justice. Dick lets Tim defeat him because he can't fight his brother, not even after everything that he's done. All he can see while looking up at Tim from his knees is the little boy that was so filled with joy, so filled with hope to make the world a better place.

Dick's broken because how the hell was he supposed to stop someone who he practically raised, that would now go to no end to take out every criminal he could. How is he supposed to take down Tim until he can't get back up when all he can think about was the first time that he brought Tim to the Titan's Tower and seeing the same joy on his face the first time he arrived all those years ago.

Tim falters, only for a moment. He can't take Dick down as easily as Bruce because he knows that the only reason that he's given up is because he is too broken to fight back. Dick has so much hope in him that Tim will realize that this is wrong. He doesn't; he doesn't realize that what he's doing is wrong because he's not wrong.

It's that split second that everything happens so fast that he can't control it for the first time since he started this mission. Dick moving so fast in one last hope that Tim will come back as himself because he sees that flash of hesitance. It's his last mistake. Tim moves out of reaction, not thinking about his movements but pushing Dick so hard that he stumbles towards the ledge of the building they're upon.

Dick grabbing onto the ledge with all his strength with Tim just standing above him, staring at his brother without thinking to help him back up. He gives him the same ultimatum once more. Dick doesn't have the voice to reply, his throat is tight and it feels like claws dragging down it. He can’t breath, can’t think properly. Dick’s destroyed at what’s become of his brother.

He doesn't need a response, it's his release of the ledge that answers Tim's question.

Dick takes a final fall, just as his parents had. The fall that started this whole thing - that brought Tim to where he is now. The fall that ended the Grayson family, once and for all.

another (longer than ten minutes this time I promise) ficlet angst! Because apparently I like making you suffer. Had some help this time with @pricetagofficial @river-bottom-nightmare @screennamealreadyused and @subtleappreciation

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake headcanon #red robin #red robin imagine #red robin headcanon #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #angst #tim drake fic #batfam #dc #dc imagine #batfam imagine #tw violence

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toughguywithbossygirlfriend · 4 years ago

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Dark Nights :Death Metal #1

After DC Comics Amazing event “Dark Nights : Metal” centered on Batman, we get a sequel called “Dark Nights : Death Metal” centered on Wonder Woman (with even more Batmen everywhere...).

Written by Scott Snyder and Penciled by Capullo the new event looks even more nuts then the first one and I have to say .. I love it ... one of the first pages presents what is left of the DCU after the fight against the evil all powerful Perpetua and the Dark Universe’s “Batman Who Laughs” ... Obviously our Heroes lost the fight and survive as best they can in what’s left of the DC Multiverse

(Edited from DC Comics “Dark Nights: Death Metal” Issue 1)

What’s left of their Universe’s Earth is a world looking like a Bat, with a head, a body, and two wings. Is it even useful to add that the main Lands are related to :

-The “Head” of the Bat... the Brain ... Batman (at least the one who laughs)

-The “Body” of the Bat... Themiscyra ... Wonder Woman..

For the first time for as long as I remember a Crisis level Event seems centered around Wonder Woman, and of course Batman. Usually it would have been about Superman and Batman or eventually about the Trinity... but since the start of Rebirth I have the feeling the wheels are turning for Diana, slowly but surely she climbs up to and mabe one day will take over Superman’s position ... and unlike Clark Kent she has the potential and the history to be paired up with the real undisputed King of DC Comics : Batman.

(Edited from DC Comics “Dark Nights: Death Metal” Issue 1)

While the “Batman who laughs” is the King of this World ... Diana exchanged her tiara for a crown and is the “Queen of the Underworld” ... giving us a little taste of the DCAU where her “father” wasn’t Zeus but Hades (Lord of the Underworld) ... She rules over Themyscira and Guards the gate to Tartarus ... Obviously she agreed to that role because the Batman Who Laughs uses others lives as leverage (including her Amazon sisters).. In this first Issue She is summoned by her Evil Master to his Castle-Bat ... One thing is very clear she doesn’t consider any of those numerous “Dark Universes Batmen” as “Batman” ... there is only one she calls “Batman”, her Bruce ... the others are just “monsters”, “demons”,...

(Edited from DC Comics “Dark Nights: Death Metal” Issue 1)

Once she arrived at Castle Bat and faces the Batman Who Laughs and his countless Batmen variants (some are really weird but its really a lot of fun)... in the middle of the meeting, she suddenly gets a telepathic message !?!.. from the one and only Batman, her Batman. Of course she is stunned there is no J’onn J’ozz to establish such a Link ... it reminded me of Diana’s statement in DC Comics “Superman : Heroes #1″ when she told Bruce that he can do everything Superman does, some even better then him...

Obviously he can copy the Martian Manhunter as well.

Once the shock is over, Diana’s first reaction is to worry for his safety ... “Just PLEASE tell me you’re far from here.”. Yes ! Diana can panic ! we’ll get proof of that later ;)...The answer he gives her is of course meant to reassure her : “Across the Universe”... Little test, who believes that ? ... Yeah, figured as much XD... Then we learn that he knows that she started to melt down her Invisible jet but he couldn’t detect its magic moving !?!! ... copying Zatanna or Constantine here ? ...

Who needs a Justice League if you have a Batman ! XD... Diana, my Dear, catch that guy then you can start a full Justice League with just the two of you ;)

Batman and Magic ?? This may seem surprising but in reality it has already been addressed in Liam Sharp’s “The Brave and the Bold : Batman and Wonder Woman” Issue #2. In it you can see Bruce suggesting Alfred they should build something able to detect magic... (second picture below - we’ll talk about the first later)

(Edit from “The Brave and the Bold : Batman and Wonder Woman” Issue #2)

Lets not forget Batman was the one who searched, hired and befriended Madame Xanadu (the Sorceress Nimue from the Arthurian mythology) recently in “Justice League” and already knows a bunch of Magic users that he can gather knowledge from. He knows, if Wondy is involved, most of the time it is about magic and if he cares for her (quite obvious in Justice League Dark(2018) #12)... he’s got to get a better knowledge of Magic.. plus If you wanted to make a longer series of comics based on Wonder Woman and Batman (a sibling to Batman-Superman) you would need the Dark Knight to understand better what he would have to face ... Maybe that’s what DC wants to do in the near future... Superman’s power are useless against Magic, but Intelligence is always accurate no matter if its about Science, Magic or anything else. And Batman’s main power is his genius level IQ...

But lets return to our comic.

(Edited from DC Comics “Dark Nights: Death Metal” Issue 1)

After mentioning it in “Dark Nights : Metal #5″, the “Batman Who Laughs” can’t help but to tell Diana again that there are Worlds where the “Dianas and the Bruces” are Lovers and Parents, ... Just in case she forgot ...XD ... (considering what Scott Snyder said about the sales of this comics, as well as his previous Event, we may assume that most of the comic readers are now used to the fact that those too can be a committed pair).

The “Batman who laughs” knows Diana really well and understood that she was hiding something from him. No doubt he hunts his alter-ego with the greatest attention ... he knows how dangerous he can be. So he threatens Diana to kill whats left of he parliament of Trees, leaving her with no choice... and threatening Diana is something the real “Batman” obviously can’t allow ... Bruce shoots a non-lethal crossbow bolt on the BMWL, revealing himself, to distract the BMWL from Diana ... it worked.

(Edited from DC Comics “Dark Nights: Death Metal” Issue 1)

"BRUCE... NO.” ... Like I said Diana can panic if it is about Him ... XD

I Wonder if the BMWL threatened Diana on purpose knowing very well this would be enough for his Alter-ego to reveal himself if he was near enough. The “Batman who laughs” explored enough worlds to know how much those two care for each other... Lovers ... Parents ... you get the drift...

(Edited from DC Comics “Dark Nights: Death Metal” Issue 1)

While Diana was a rather obedient servant to her “Master” because she knew her sisters lives as well as her friends lives where at stakes, she gives up every care and opposes the evil Batmen to give Bruce the opportunity to flee. Much like in the “Blackest Night : WW”, Diana puts Bruce over everything else, Bruce’s safety trumps the safety of every one that the BMWL keeps as leverage against her ... she has to know there’s gonna be a cost.

But Bruce/Batman doesn’t flee, ... not immediately ... because if he did she would be punished for her action ... instead he stays, awaiting the Horde of Evil Batmen to kill him... something that distracts the “Batman Who Laughs” from Diana enough to forget or excuse what she did. But Bruce is always prepared, and this isn’t different ... God knows how but he found a Black Lantern Ring and uses it to raise a little army of undead warriors in the mood to rip some evil Batmen into pieces.

(Edited from DC Comics “Dark Nights: Death Metal” Issue 1)

While Diana has been easily “frozen” by the Bat-Mage, and once the Fight between Bruce’s undead soldiers and the evils Batmen is started, Batman knows his Enemy is distracted enough to forget about Diana’s rebellion., .. plus the BMWL would keep her alive just because she is the best way to lure Batman out of his hiding as just proven ... She will be safe, so he leaves.

This Event is fantastic and I can’t wait to see how it unfolds.

I guess Scott Snyder loves the Idea of Bruce as some sort of “God of Death” even if he is mortal. see my previous post :

https://toughguywithbossygirlfriend.tumblr.com/post/190316770026/diana-goddess-of-war-bruce-god-of

A mortal “God of Death” ? It is a concept already explored by Fritz Lieber in his Collection “Sword and Sorcery” about the Heroes “Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser”. Basically if the “God of Death” gets killed (a hard feat) he re-incarnates a little later in another body because without a “God of death” nothing dies.

(Edited from DC Comics Wonder Woman (1942) Issue 202 back in 1972)

Who would have thought that Diana (with Selina) already had an encounter with the Heroes of that World ... so the concept of the “God of Death” being a “mortal” shouldn't be new to her ... ;) ...

In "Death Metal”, Diana is the leading Character and she obviously has not the same goal as Bruce: Diana wants to kill the BMWL and restore a Rich and Infinite Multiverse while Bruce wants to play it small, very small.

(Edited from DC Comics “Dark Nights: Death Metal” Issue 1)

Bruce’s behavior seems a bit OOC but we will surely get some explanations later in the event as to why. Diana seems to take over the “Dreamy Positiveness” of Superman while Batman holds his “Pragmatic Strategic” line of thinking.

Of course Diana is fiercely independent, and even if she highly values Bruce’s POV she follows her own ... I guess the “Batman Who Laughs” knew her better than she thought, because he first repeated her Bruce’s plan ...

(Edited from DC Comics “Dark Nights: Death Metal” Issue 1)

Then teases her about her own ... and I am sure everyone reading the comic was ecstatic the moment Diana ripped the BMWL into pieces with her Chainsaw of truth ...

A move, we will learn later, that her own Bruce tried to avoid with reason ... a move the BMWL planed and expected, if not provoked, because it enabled him to ... upgrade to something infinitely more Powerful... Bruce was right ... again...

Even if Diana leads she will still need Bruce if she wants to win because it is true, ... it seems she can’t out plan the BMWL... only her Batman could do that ...

(Edited from DC Comics “Dark Nights: Death Metal” Issue 1)

I think these re-incarnation in new Bodies is a way for DC Comics to make Bruce Wayne Immortal while keeping him a weak and mortal human (or not as for the BMWL). This has been explored for quite some time : starting with the “Dyonesium” and the “Final Invention”, Batman Last Knight on Earth, and now the BMWL’s death and return as ... “Final Bruce Wayne” ;)

With this there would be no need to reboot the universes to keep Bruce “Batman” Wayne young ... “every generation will have its Batman” ... If Bruce gets Killed ... you just re-incarnate him in a new younger Body ...

(Edited from DC Comics “Batman : Last Knight on Earth” Issue 1)

Diana is already immortal, Bruce would be as well but “re-incarnation” based, and if needed you just give Superman one more power to his already very long list (lets say “Solar re-rejuvenation” or something) ... For Bruce and Diana this would provide more reason to pair them up ... Without the need for more reboots their usual partners (Steve Trevor, Selina Kyle, ...) will now grow older and pass away... Public persona “Bruce Wayne” being with the Amazon could help cover up his weird immortality as gifts from her Gods... All the kids could grow older and new kids could be added more and more without loosing the 3 Big players.

But that’s speculation and we will have to wait and see what DC Comics is going to do and there are still open questions, but I would enjoy something like that.

(Edited from DC Comics “Dark Nights: Death Metal” Issue 1)

The complementarity of both Heroes is expressed here again : Bruce is the “shield” while Diana is the “Sword”... so basically Bruce is the “defensive” while Diana is the “offensive” ... over writers use the reverse : “Wonder Woman was made to protect the innocent while Batman was made to punish the guilty” .. Wonder Woman is the “defensive” and Batman the “offensive” ... Depending on who writes them they will be one or the other but they are just naturally always the Yin and the Yang to each other.

#wonderbat #wonder woman #diana prince #batman #bruce wayne

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gondorosi · 5 years ago

Text

ASOIAF v/s GoT - Part 1: The Disdain for Vulnerable Heroes

Book to screen adaptations are tricky as it is. Adapting high fantasy is even trickier as visual artistry quite often takes precedence over plot and characterization. It’s difficult to adequately portray complex morality, hard decisions and internal agony. Characters are often simplified and pared down to only a few most visually arresting characteristics (mighty king/queen, unbeatable warrior, mysterious magic person, wise-cracking smartass etc etc etc). Plotlines are reworked to make them non-controversial, consequences are ignored and the more difficult subplots are simply done away with. Such actions are common across adaptations, and GoT is no exception.

The distancing of the show from the books started becoming significantly observable S5 onwards. At a certain pivotal point, the obvious heroic characters began to get pigeon-holed - the noble (Jon), the badass (Arya) and the conqueror (Dany). Crucial characters like Tyrion and Bran also began to lose all trappings of individual motives to dedicate themselves to a ‘greater cause’. Characters canonically unreliable and/or unfavourable such as Jorah, Sansa and Varys get painted in a far more positive light than they deserve.

Of course, in Martin’s world the characters are far more layered and conflicted. And thus, to stick to the massively simplified (almost bastardized) show characterizations, D&D quite happily chunked off LARGE plot points essential to the main characters, in effect neutering everything that makes ASOIAF so fascinating to begin with.

Let’s first consider the two most obvious leader-heroes of the saga. Both Jon and Dany start out handicapped and subjugated in their own way, before quickly discovering that they have innate capabilities suppressed by their respective environments. Both of them find a role they are good at and use that role to accomplish something revolutionary. Both of them disregard the dangers posed by proponents of tradition and both of them are brought down or grievously hurt by those resistant to change. However, both of them are young. Both of them struggle with self-worth, purpose and identity. They’re two deeply traumatized young heroes who keep the truths of their hearts to themselves. However, the show begins to distance them from their vulnerability somewhere around the middle of its run. There’s a deliberate choice made to move away from complex characterization and focus only on heroics - whether its raining down fire from atop a dragon, or cleaving through enemies with a sword in hand. And while this makes for arresting and unforgettable visuals, you have to wonder why two such beautifully layered characters had to lose their tender facets to continue being badass heroes.

Dany

No two ways about it - the show has done an exemplary job of building up Daenerys Targaryen the Queen and Conqueror (Season 8 exists only in the Upside Down). Her fiery nature, her courage and her incredible journey from a prized possession to a radical force commanding the very air around her. But before she earned all her titles, she was Dany - a quiet, observant and highly intelligent child who just just wanted to go home. The house with the red door is instrumental to Dany’s psyche as a person - and never mentioning it, or alluding to it takes away something vital from Dany’s story.

That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.

All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.

The red door features prominently in Dany’s thoughts, dreams and visions. To a young Dany, her name is as much a burden and a cage to her as the lack of a name is to Jon. He thirsts for the recognition and dignity of a true name, she dreams of the unfettered lightness of a life without the heavy legacy of her name.

It might sound contradictory, but for all that the show played up the power and near invincibility of the dragons, they skimmed over their ACTUAL importance to Dany’s entire Essos arc, and subsequently her identity. The show posits her as the Dragon Queen almost from the very beginning - whereas in the narrative of the books, it’s a realization she must come to after losing almost everything she’s fought for in Slaver’s Bay.

Remember who you are, Daenerys. The dragons know. Do you?

This line means much more in the context of Dany’s journey of self-realization than the show ever bothered to address. Through her entire arc Dany is struggling to place herself. She’s caught between the ‘Last Targaryen’ - the rightful ruler of Westeros set to take back the Throne stolen from her family by scheming enemies; and the Mother and Queen of the freed slaves of Slaver’s Bay who look to her to destroy a society which has progressed on the strength of broken bones of slaves. Beyond it all she is the Mother of Dragons - which brings all the boys to her yard. Dorne, fAegon, Victarion and Euron don’t give two hoots about the young girl who overturned the age old practice of slavery - they want her dragons. By the time she’s stumbling across the Dothraki Sea delirious, in pain and hallucinating, she knows not which of these three identities is who she truly is.

The door loomed before her, the red door, so close, so close, the hall was a blur around her, the cold receding behind. And now the stone was gone and she flew across the Dothraki sea, high and higher, the green rippling beneath, and all that lived and breathed fled in terror from the shadow of her wings.

That’s what the show misses. The crux of Daenerys Targaryen isn’t that she HAS dragons, it’s that she IS the dragon. The issue with this interpretation in the show is that to truly take Danerys being the last dragon to it’s intended narrative conclusion, you have to admit that her journey would not, and could not end with her becoming Queen of the 7K. The show turned her magic into a political prop which is entirely incongruous with the world-building elements established by Martin. ASOIAF’s magic doesn’t exist as a plaything and a tool for those desiring power. Magic exists to combat magic. Daenerys Targaryen is a conqueror, a queen and a rescuer but she is also more. (I could go on and on about Dany as the Last Dragon but that would be derailing the intent of this post.)

You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros. “It is such a long way,” she complained. “I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl.”

This is not a Dany the show allows us to observe. The Daenerys Targaryen of the show is not allowed to be vulnerable or uncertain or crumble. She’s not allowed to question her purpose and path in the world. After all, how can the most powerful character in the show ever falter? This is where the show takes the easy way out of putting more emphasis on the visual extravaganza - dragons burning down ships and Emilia Clarke walking through flames unscathed are easy crowd pleasers. But these are also just surface level considerations of Dany’s power and importance. She isn’t who she is because she has dragons - she has her dragons because she is who she is.

But a major point of contention is - who DOES she need to be? See, Dany has always known she’s ‘important’ - in the way political prisoners are important. In the beginning it’s only her family name which holds her value. Her gradual journey from being only symbolically important as a Targaryen, to owning her own narrative as herself is fraught with considerable internal turmoil. The identity Dany cherishes most is that of Mother. Choosing to free the slaves in Astapor and Yunkai is the first decision she takes as a player with power and resources, and this decision has NOTHING to do with her destiny as a Targaryen. You identify a hero by their choices - and it is in this moment, uninfluenced by magic, or a greater power, this young girl sees the horror in a long established custom and CHOOSES to fight it. I would anyway have been invested as Daenerys as a character - but that one action firmly placed her on a pedestal .

In spite of where her destiny may pull her she wants to retain her softer dreams, her yearning for an uncomplicated happiness. At the same time, she’s voluntarily taken on the burden of ruling in Mereen, despite the responsibility very clearly chaining her. At the end of ADWD, her fevered dreams seem to suggest that both her softness and her duty are pulling her away from her true destiny. Dany’s struggles with self revolve around choosing between her identities as the Dragon, the Mother and the Conqueror - I personally subscribe to the belief that Dany ‘finding herself’ would mean realising that her three identities are not separate, but feed into each other to create the Daenerys Targaryen she is meant to be.

The show puts the cart before the horse and ignores the reverberating impact of a piece of Old Valyria being reborn on the shores of the continent where the empire fell. Her trek through the Dothraki Sea once she escapes on Drogon’s back is such a crucial pivot point in her story - it is literally the point where the old Dany is being left behind for who she will ultimately need to become.

And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. "The last dragon," Ser Jorah's voice whispered faintly. "The last, the last." Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

After that, for a long time, there was only the pain, the fire within her, and the whisperings of stars.

She woke to the taste of ashes.

The show does make it clear that Dany’s ultimate destiny lies in Westeros - but the Iron Throne can hardly be it. Why will the last dragon be so singularly focused on a crumbling monarchy? Unjustly attacked and exiled and now fighting to retake their ‘rightful’ place - that’s a traditional fantasy storyline and in a purely monarchical power struggle needs neither Dany’s magic nor her dragons. The Iron Throne is such a low bar - what Daenerys attempted in Slaver’s Bay is ten times more difficult and impressive. As of this point in the books Mereen is on the brink of absolute chaos and the situation is much, much more convoluted than the show made it out to be. The political uprising of Mereen was dealt with so laughably on the show - ‘Bring dragons, Burn shit’ doesn’t solve any problems whatsoever but let’s save that for the next part.

Painting Dany’s journey back to Westeros as simply an exiled royal returning to take back what’s theirs removed the poignancy in Dany looking for home in Westeros. There’s this sense of yearning in her desperately looking for a place to belong in a country that’s little more than a fable to her. She tried SO hard to make a home with the Dothraki and to find a place as the ruler of Mereen - but if there’s one takeaway from ADWD it’s that Dany’s fate doesn’t rest in Essos. I expect WoW to be a bloody reckoning, an agonizing choice between Dany’s duty and destiny. The new world order she’s established is far too new and fragile to sustain itself. As we see from Cleon’s ascent in Astapor, evil opportunists exists everywhere, regardless of societal class. To cement her order, Dany and her inner circle need to stay in Mereen for a lengthy period of time. But Westeros is calling - she has to choose. It’s nowhere near as easy as the three Yunkish Masters being the only figureheads, the Greyjoy siblings traipsing into the pyramids with the ships she needs, and alliances falling into her lap just so that D&D don’t need to put in any effort into creating plot and can simply throw spectacular CGI at us.

My point is - you don’t need a dragon (or three) to fight Cersei Lannister and a court jester on ADHD masquerading as Euron Greyjoy (not Pilou, its obvious the dude read the books and expected great things from his character). You do however need them to fulfil the prophecy passed down generations of Targaryens, beginning from Aegon the Conqueror. You do need the last living embodiment of the magic of Old Valyria to combat the foul, unholy magic wielded by the utterly terrifying Euron Greyjoy of the books. The reason Aegon began his conquest of Westeros is beyond mere ambition - and if we go by what Martin himself revealed about his intentions, the Others ARE the final War. We had only 2 episodes in S7 to show Daenerys understanding the gravity of the Night King (godawful mission beyond the Wall and polar bear wights aside) - and then arrives the wrecking ball of S8 with its ‘Northern Independence’ and ‘my Iron Throne’.

The trouble with legendary heroes is this - they save the world for everyone else. Dany defeats all other claimants to the Throne and takes back Dragonstone, King’s Landing and the Seven Kingdoms, as Viserys wanted, and she believes her duty to be. She and Jon lead the Last Alliance against the Great Other. Maybe they win and live happily ever after. Maybe they win, but only after losing everything they hold dear. And maybe they win, and only lose part of themselves. Does that end Dany’s story? Is a Kingdom and a reign what she’s been searching for? Dany’s story only ends when she finds herself in front of that red door again.

Jon

It’s an infuriating irony that despite portraying him as MUCH softer than in the books, Jon’s vulnerability is either non-existent in the show, or is turned into a weakness. Where does the show ever dwell on his deep seated issues with identity, duty and survivor’s guilt? Where does the show address the raw power of his love for Arya? And why does the show think that the progression of Hardhome, being fucking murdered AND resurrected, and then Rickon’s death in front of his eyes would NOT leave a lasting mental impact?

To its’ credit, the show did clearly indicate Catelyn’s hatred for Jon. What we didn’t see, and thus don’t have a ready reference for (in the show) is how Catelyn’s treatment affected Jon. In the books though, you can clearly suss out the emotional impact of the years of Jon’s childhood.

He reached the landing and stood for a long moment, afraid. Ghost nuzzled at his hand. He took courage from that. He straightened, and entered the room.

He stood in the door for a moment, afraid to speak, afraid to come closer. The window was open. Below, a wolf howled. Ghost heard and lifted his head.

This is at Bran’s bedside when he’s still deep in a coma, with no certainty of whether he will ever wake again. Jon’s leaving for the NW, and this may very well be the last time he ever sees Bran again. Jon loves his little brother with everything he has, yet the overbearing emotion at this moment is his fear of Catelyn Stark.

Keep in mind that every POV hides something or the other from the reader. Thoughts and feelings may seem disjointed as a critical memory which aligns the two is missing. In this case, Jon is actively NOT thinking of any particular incident. Yet his fear is all pervasive. It’s an uncovered wound and it hurts him. We may not know exactly what has happened between Jon and Catelyn in the 14 years leading up to this moment, but Jon’s fear of her is very real. This almost paralyzing fear of Catelyn placed against the overbearing love he feels for Bran at this moment makes this exchange stand out for several reasons, chief amongst which is that Catelyn has left an indelible mark on Jon’s psyche.

Robb and Bran and Rickon were his father’s sons, and he loved them still, yet Jon knew that he had never truly been one of them. Catelyn Stark had seen to that.

By the time the moon was full again, he would be back in Winterfell with his brothers. Your half-brothers, a voice inside reminded him. And Lady Stark, who will not welcome you. There was no place for him in Winterfell, no place in King’s Landing either.

The fear lessens once he leaves the halls of Winterfell, and bitterness takes its place. Jon’s feelings about her are tinged with fury and resentment. He’s long past hoping for affection from her, but what still rankles and will never stop being a source of anger, is that she deliberately tried to sabotage his relationships with others who most definitely were his family.

Jon’s thoughts make it obvious that he is painfully aware that he doesn’t belong. For an awareness this heavy to be so deeply etched into a young boy’s entire being, the message has to have been reinforced intensely over the entire duration of his life in Winterfell. That’s not compatible with the assumption that Catelyn was only cold and dismissive of him. We don’t see the instances in either Jon’s or Catelyn’s viewpoints in the books, but the inference is all but thrown at us.

Jon’s growth as a person, a leader and a revolutionary is dependent on his time with the NW just as much as his time with the FF. The show cut out far too many important aspects of his time with the FF, but atleast that part of his journey was treated with more respect than his accomplishments as a man of the NW. (Let me not start on the absolute blasphemy to turn one of the most decisive characters in the entire saga into a dithering, uncertain, meek fool in S8.)

Unlike Dany, Jon has never been important. He has no name, no legacy to uphold, no shoes to step into. All he has are his natural abilities - his startlingly accurate powers of perception for someone so young, his capacity for taking feedback to change for the better and his razor sharp practical intelligence. The text seems to suggest that Jon was indirectly forced to downplay his abilities due to his status - besting Robb was just not done.

With her deep blue eyes and hard cold mouth, she looked a bit like Stannis. Iron, he thought, but brittle. She was looking at him the way she used to look at him at Winterfell, whenever he had bested Robb at swords or sums or most anything. Who are you? that look had always seemed to say. This is not your place. Why are you here?

It’s at the Night’s Watch that Jon first starts to become someone more than Ned Stark’s bastard - in his OWN estimation. The world will continue to see only a bastard and Ned Stark’s shame, but its here that Jon learns to accept and move beyond it. It’s in the yard of the NW training yard that Jon receives his first harsh lesson about himself - he’s lording the privilege of his castle education over boys far less fortunate than him. It’s at the NW that he has the opportunity to use his abilities. It’s here that Jon finds his calling as the champion of the misfits, the ill-begotten, the unwanted and the reviled. He becomes the de-facto trainer of the boys Alliser Thorne deems beneath his dignity. He’s the one convincing Maester Aemon of Sam’s worth as his squire. And it’s at the NW that Jon first begins forming his opinion of the wars of the south - something which he will carry till the end.

When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?

The staggering impact of his experience in the NW to his character is an essay in itself. For the purposes of this post, suffice to say that without the NW Jon would never have grown to the position to have an impact on the greater story. As of ADWD, the Wall under Jon’s leadership has become somewhat of a rallying ground - hosting a King, a highborn Northern lady looking for deliverance and support, as well as the center for revitalizing the Watch, rebuilding the Wall and rekindling hope in the North.

At some point after his resurrection in the show, Jon’s portrayal starts edging over into the ‘noble, sacrificial hero’ archetype. This wouldn’t necessarily have been a BAD thing – if this ‘goodness’ and ‘nobility’ didn’t come at the expense of Jon’s overall characterization.

His ‘goodness’ comes in the form of forgiving Sansa for keeping the Vale army secret and keeping her as his closest confidant. This so-called goodness of heart is rank naivete the sharply perceptive and observant book!Jon would have been stupefied at. Jon knows to judge people by their actions – and Sansa’s actions made it obvious that she’s playing her own game and considers her brothers’ lives expendable collateral. The Jon who understood the heaviness of the mantle of leadership well enough to cultivate distance from even his closest friends in the NW would NEVER have allowed Sansa so close.

The ‘honourable’ show!Jon allows his Lords and his sister to question and challenge him openly. The ‘noble’ King Jon has to explain himself before undertaking a journey to gain a potential ally - the only possible ally against a War the North seems unwilling to believe despite the reports of the dead having been around since S1. The honest son of Ned Stark cannot lie to his House’s greatest living enemy. Lord Commander Jon would sooner have jumped off from the top of the Wall than take these decisions. He’s aware of the nature of power and authority, and that more than holding a position its important to make those around you believe you hold power. Power can do great good - but it is also fickle.

Despite the NK and the AoTD being turned into a cosmic farce in the last season, the show did quite a good job of building up the horror, menace and sense of doom in the previous seasons. Hardhome is prime example of why the show was once the pinnacle of television – and what Jon saw there, coupled with the utter failure of his mission to evacuate all the FF would have pushed Jon to the brink of insanity anyway. From what we know of Jon, he carries the deaths of his father, Robb, Bran, Rickon and Winterfell close to him. Compound the steadily growing pressure of that loss with the fact that he loses Grenn, Pyp and Ygritte in the same night. Three of the people most important to Jon but a loss he was never given the time to process as Stannis’s army arrives the very next day. He’s still carrying this heaviness when Hardhome happens, and Jon is exactly the kind of man to blame himself for the people he was unable to evacuate. Not to mention, this is the first time he sees the Night King RAISE the dead – this is the point where the true power of the enemy is fully revealed. That was existential horror at its most visceral and not a sight a man is likely to forget, least of all a man who’s trying his best to create the only resistance.

Let’s forego the changed circumstances of Jon’s murder in the show and consider the act as is – Jon does the right thing, knows he’s doing the right thing and is betrayed and murdered for it. He’s dead and then he’s not and while he’s still struggling with resurrection, betrayal and the memories of Hardhome, Sansa arrives and he’s in the middle of the quest to retake Winterfell. It’s traumatic experience upon traumatic experience, a never-ending series of emotional turmoil with no outlet or time to grieve. This is the only reason I see Jon’s actions at the Battle of Bastards being true to his mental condition in the show – having Rickon die right in front of him when his little brother was pretty much the only reason he was able to gather the mental strength for the campaign would have unhinged him to the point of that ridiculously suicidal move.

But see that’s the last time we see any strong emotion from Jon. He seemed mentally and emotionally exhausted in the Winds of Winter episode, and that’s understandable but only at THAT point. That kind of exhaustion sets in only once you’re done with your battles and Jon’s true battle was just beginning. It’s just never acknowledged – when in truth he would barely have a handle on his temper and would be obsessed with the NK to the point of delirium. We apparently can’t have a functional main hero with his emotions all over the place, gathering the strength to do what must be done while falling apart inside. Or if we DO show him as someone struggling with himself, it’s to paint him as someone too weak to see the truth. Someone too blinded by love who should never have been in charge in the first place.

Heroes are strong, brave, just and honourable. They are powerful and commanding and inspiring. And at the very core of it all, heroes are human. Wish the show had remembered that.

#ASoIaF #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #anti got #jonerys #book!jon #book!dany #show!jon #show!dany

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wonderful-writer · 4 years ago

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13 - Wartime

Summary: The camp prepares to make a trip to the ocean, but the grounder army puts a stop in their plans, forcing them back to camp to fight a war.

Word Count: 2.94k

Based Off: 01x13, “We Are Grounders, Part Two”

Everyone outside of the dropship prepared to leave while Clarke cauterized Raven’s wound and Finn held her hand.

“That should stop the external bleeding.” She put the knife in a basin and Finn started talking.

“I don’t understand, how did Murphy get a gun?” He asked.

“Long story,” Bellamy said.

“We got lucky,” Raven moaned. “If Murphy hit the fuel tank instead of me, we’d all be dead.”

“Wait, there’s rocket fuel down there?” Clarke asked the brunette. “Enough to build a bomb?”

“Enough to build 100 bombs.” Raven replied. “If we had any gunpowder left.”

“Let’s get back to the reapers.” Bellamy lifted Lincoln’s book to show a sketch of one. “Maybe they’ll help us.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?” You asked.

“Not this enemy.” Clarke said. “We saw them. Trust me, it’s not an option.”

“There’s no time for this.” Finn chimed in. “Can she walk or not?”

“No.” Clarke responded. “We have to carry her.”

“The hell you will.” Raven tried to sit up. “I’m good to go.” Her attempts at sitting up were feeble, and she put herself in more pain trying to do so.

“Hey,” Clarke got her attention. “Listen to me. That bullet is still inside you. If, by some miracle, there’s no internal bleeding, it might hold until we get somewhere safe. But you are not walking there. Is that clear?”

Raven nodded and laid back down on the table while Finn went to get the stretcher to put her on.

“Can’t run away fast enough, huh? That’s brave, real brave.” Bellamy commented in a snide tone.

Finn turned at his comment and walked back over to the man. “Dying in a fight you can’t win isn’t brave, Bellamy. It’s stupid.”

“Spoken like every coward who’s ever run from a fight.” Bellamy walked closer to Finn as he spoke, getting dangerously close. The tension in the room was high due to their verbal fight, and you could feel that this was going to escalate quickly.

“Alright, that’s enough.” You spoke up from beside Raven. “You two need to stop. We have to go.”

“If they follow, it’s a 120 mile walk to the ocean.” Bellamy informed you.

“Like I said,” You moved closer to Bellamy. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take to make sure my people don’t die.”

“Look, we’re wasting time.” Finn interrupted. “If he wants to stay, he can stay.”

“No, he can’t,” Clarke replied, but Finn was already out of the dropship. She turned and walked up to Bellamy to try and get him to come along.

“We can’t do this without you, Bellamy.” She told him.

“What do you want me to say, Clarke?” He replied angrily and with a steeled expression, keeping his gaze looking over her shoulder.

“I want you to say that you’re with us.” She said.

“Those kids out there,” You stepped in to help persuade him. “They listen to you, Bellamy.”

“They’re lining up to go. They clearly listen to you more.” He countered.

“We gave them an easy choice.” Clarke said. “But 5 minutes ago they were willing to fight and die for you. You inspire them.”

He looked up at the doors, and then to you without saying a word. “I’m afraid we’re gonna need that again before this day is through.”

She turned and walked out of the ship, while you took her spot in front of Bellamy and out a reassuring hand on his arm. “Come with us, Bellamy. You’re one of us, and like it or not, we need you.”

Not long after, everyone was ready to leave camp. The gunners were leading the walk to protect against any attacks, while the others stayed behind them and carried what they could. You and Clarke waited until everyone else was out of the camp to make your way to Bellamy, who was still looking at the ship.

“You did good here, Bellamy.” Clarke assured.

“18 dead.” He said.

“And 82 alive.” You countered. “You did good.”

He nodded and tossed a bucket of water onto the fire, throwing it to the ground and walking away with you and Clarke.

You’d walked a fair bit, keeping your hand on your sword’s hilt in case there was someone you needed to fight. It wasn’t very long until the group stopped moving, and from where you, Bellamy and Clarke were, you couldn’t see what was going on. It was then that you heard a loud thump and Jasper scream out that the grounders attacked did everyone rush to get back to camp.

You and Bellamy directed everyone inside the walls of camp and everyone moved to their own stations or foxholes, prepping hastily for the battle. You helped to close the door and unsheathed your sword while Bellamy was at the watchtower.

“Lincoln said the scouts would be the first to arrive.” Clarke said, directing her sentence to Finn.

“If it’s just scouts then we can fight our way out.” Octavia chimed in. “That’s what Lincoln would do.”

“We’re done doing what that grounder would do.” Bellamy jumped down from his post. “We tried it and now Drew’s dead. Do you wanna be next?”

“That grounder saved our lives.” Finn defended. “I agree with Octavia. For all we know there’s one scout out there.”

“Yeah, a scout with insanely good aim.” Jasper said.

“Clarke, Y/n, we can still do this.” Octavia pleaded.

“Looking at you guys, what’s it gonna be?” Bellamy asked you. “Run and get picked off out in the open, or stand and fight back?”

You took a mental step back and assessed the situation. If you agreed with Octavia and fought your way to the ocean, you might not make it out alive. The grounders would surround you and you’d be in their territory, vulnerable to a major loss. If you stayed in camp and tried to do what you could to fight, you’d have a better chance of surviving and you’d likely lose less people to the grounders.

You looked at Clarke and voiced your opinion as she looked out into the woods before jumping back down. “I say we’re staying. If we use everything we’ve got and fight like hell, we could actually make it out alive.”

“Clarke,” Finn grabbed the blonde’s arm. “If we’re still here when Tristan gets here-”

“Lincoln said ‘scouts’. More than one. He told us to get home before the scouts arrived. Finn, they’re already here.” She turned to Bellamy. “Looks like you’ve got your fight.”

“Okay then.” He spoke loudly to address the other campers. “This is what we’ve been preparing for. Kill them before they kill us.”

“Gunners, to your posts!” You shouted beside him. “Use the tunnels to get in and out. From now on, the gate stays closed.”

You watched everyone move into position as Octavia did, too, but Bellamy caught her arm, telling her she wasn’t a gunner and she defended herself before moving to the exit to help with the battle.

“So, how the hell do we do this?” Clarke asked. You all moved into the dropship to explain the plan and information you had to her, Finn, and Raven.

“We’ve got 25 rifles with 20 rounds each, give or take.” Bellamy said. “Roughly 500 rounds of ammo.”

“While you two were gone, we made some improvements.” You took over. “Thanks to Raven, the gully is mined.”

“Partially mined.” Raven corrected painfully. “Thanks to Murphy.”

“Still, it’s the main route in. If the grounders use it, we’ll know.” Bellamy told the room.

“She also made grenades.” You picked one up to show Clarke and Finn.

“There’s not many,” Clarke commented.

“Again. Thank you, Murphy.” Raven said sarcastically.

“We’ll make them count. If the grounders make it through the front gate, guns and grenades should force them back.” Bellamy pointed to the scale model of the front gate on the table.

“And then?” Clarke asked worriedly.

“Then, we close the door and pray.” Raven said.

“And pray what? That the ship keeps them out?” She asked. “Because it won’t.”

“Then let’s not let them get past the front gate.” You said, looking at the scale model and gripping your jacket sleeve in hopes to relieve some stress.

“All foxholes, listen up.” Bellamy spoke into the radio. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Inflict casualties, as many as possible. You can hold them off long enough to make them turn back. That’s the plan.”

“That’s always your plan.” Finn said. “Just like the bomb at the bridge.”

“Damn right. You got a better idea?”

“I think I do.” You spoke up. “Raven, you said there’s fuel in those rockets, right? Enough to build 100 bombs.”

“I also said we’ve got no gunpowder left.” She told you.

“I don’t want to build a bomb.” You said. “I want to blast off.”

“Draw them in close, fire the rockets. A ring of fire.” Clarke explained simply, smirking along with Raven.

“Barbequed grounders. I like it.” Bellamy agreed.

“Will it work?” Finn asked Raven.

“The wiring is a mess down there, but yeah.” She turned to you and Bellamy. “If you give me enough time, I’ll cook ‘em real good.”

You smirked at her and nodded, liking that you had an even better plan than what was formed before. Clarke and Finn went underneath the floor of the dropship to look for the ignition system while Raven sat near the floor entrance and worked on repairing the electrical board, while you and Bellamy headed out to prep for the impending and inevitable war.

It was nightfall when you heard the drums. You were by the fire, sharpening your own and other people’s blades in case it came time to use them. You looked to Bellamy, who seemed to have the same idea as you, and ran to the main foxhole.

“Where’s Octavia?” He asked Miller.

“No idea. She left 5 minutes ago, didn’t say where to.” He responded. “She thinks she’s a damn samurai.”

“Do you see anything?” You asked, sword drawn.

“No.” Monroe replied frustratedly. “What the hell are they waiting for?”

“The longer they wait, the better. This is about buying time for Raven.” He told her.

“I see them! They’re moving!” Sterling’s voice cut through the air, slightly staticy. “I count 2, 3- no, wait, there’s more. I don’t know man, there’s too damn many of them!”

A gunshot rang through the air and Bellamy asked Miller who was on the radio. “Sterling, I think. South foxhole.”

More gunshots rang out as Bellamy pulled out his radio. “South foxhole, report now.”

“Yeah, yeah, We’re okay. They didn’t attack. It’s like shooting at ghosts.”

You kept your eyes on the terrain ahead of you, seeing grounders move across your field of vision. “There!”

“I see them!” Monroe shouted, shooting at the grounders. Miller joined her and Bellamy shouted at them to stop.

“Reload, now.” He commanded, as they were both out of bullets.

“Those were our last clips.” Miller told him.

“We should- we should fall back.” Monroe suggested, panicked.

“No.” Bellamy said. “If this position falls, they’ll walk right through the front door.”

You unsteadily readied your sword as Bellamy positioned himself to look through the scope of his gun. You kept your stance and listened to the radio, Jasper confirming that the land mines worked.

“Jasper, we need you in the dropship, now.” Clarke’s voice came through.

“Negative.” Bellamy responded. “We can’t give up the west woods.”

“The west woods are mined, Bellamy. The grounders just figured that out.” Clarke said. “Jasper, get in here.”

“All gunners, listen up.” Jasper spoke. “The grounders are not attacking. They’re making us waste bullets. Don’t shoot when they’re running laterally.”

“Jasper’s right,” Bellamy confirmed. “Don’t fire until you’re sure it’s an attack. Repeat, do not fire until you are sure.”

Jasper then told Clarke that he was coming to help out, and you looked around worriedly. Something was feeling off to you. You didn’t know what it was, but your gut instincts were telling you to flee, to leave now and save yourself. But you knew to go against them, that you had to stay and fight. This was your battle, too.

Then it came. The gunfire, the battlecry. Grounders were headed straight towards you. You swung your sword as they ran for you, Monroe falling back with Miller. You slashed one grounder's throat and spun as you did so, plunging your sword into another grounder’s chest.

One of them attacked Bellamy and pushed him to the ground, Miller attempting to go after him, but failing when another grounder shoved his spear into Miller’s shoulder. Bellamy managed to fight the grounder, but failed when he was pushed to the ground again, the grounder’s hands tightening themselves around Bellamy’s neck.

You were busy fighting one of the other grounders and couldn’t help, but once you had killed him, you saw Octavia shove her sword through the back of the grounder’s head and straight through his eye, saving her brother.

“Admit it, you want one.” She said, panting. Before she could help her brother up off the ground, an arrow fired from behind her and struck her in the leg, causing her to falter and fall, Bellamy catching her.

“Miller! Fall back! Now!” He stood and grabbed Octavia by the arms to support her. “Can you walk?”

She stumbled and he put her arm over his shoulder. “O, hey. Hold on to me. Let me get you behind that wall.” He carried her bridal style and you followed behind, serving as cover for the siblings in case any grounders tried to attack them while they were vulnerable.

When you neared the gate, you heard screaming and metal clashing, causing Bellamy and you to skid to a halt.

“What is that?” Octavia asked.

“I don’t know, but they’re distracted.” Her brother responded, placing her against a tree. “Let’s move.”

“We’ll never make it.” Octavia panted. “Leave me. I’ll find another way.”

“No way in hell are we leaving you here.” You said.

“Octavia!” Lincoln said from behind you as he broke through the trees. A small smile came to your lips as they hugged.

“You did this?” Bellamy asked, nodding his head towards the reapers and grounders fighting one another.

“With Finn.” He told Bellamy. He looked down at the broken arrow in Octavia’s leg. “It’s deep.”

A grunt came from nearby and Lincoln spoke quickly. “I can help you, but you have to come with me now.”

“Go.” Bellamy said. “Let him help you.”

“No way,” Said Octavia. “I have to see this through.”

“You can’t walk and we can’t get you to the dropship.” You intervened.

“They’re right. This fight is over for you.” Lincoln told Octavia.

“O. O, listen to me.” Bellamy said. “I told you my life ended the day you were born. The truth is, it didn’t start until then. So go with him. I need you to live. Besides, we’ve got this.”

You put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and smiled at her, letting go so she could hug Bellamy and say their own goodbyes before being carried away by Lincoln so she could remain safe.

You both paused for a minute until the shouting began again, revealing that the grounders were advancing on the wall. You and Bellamy picked up the pace and ran to the entrance. Clarke and Finn spotted the both of you, screaming for you to run, which you did. Bellamy picked up a gun and attempted to shoot at Tristan, but it was out of ammo.

You didn't make it very far from the entrance when four grounders closed in on you. You managed to take down the first one with relative ease, slicing his throat. One of the others attempted to bash your head in but you sliced his arm, causing him to fall with pain. You kicked him over forcefully and plunged your sword into his heart.

You spun around to face another grounder, thrusting yourself and your sword forward, stabbing him in the stomach. You watched the dropship door close, and you feared you were running out of time. You froze in your spot, but not for very long when the last grounder that had surrounded you shoved his dagger all the way into your right side, more towards your back.

The grounder left you once you collapsed to your knees, attempting to tear the dropship down to nothing with the rest of the army. You knew the blast was coming soon, so you dragged yourself to the exit and attempted pulling yourself to your feet. You groaned in pain, coughing at the sting of the blade. ‘I’ve been here for what, a month? And I’ve already been stabbed twice.’

You stumbled to the path that led out to the main gate as the rumbling of fire and the heat touched your skin. You slowly walked as the energy further drained from your body, feeling blood drip down your skin. The knife moved and tore your flesh every time you made a movement, but you knew it was important that you got to the main gate. You needed to survive. You needed to live.

You felt yourself getting lighter with every step, pushing through bushes and shrubbery. A sigh escaped your dry and pale lips as you saw the treeline, the wall. You reached out to stabilize yourself on it, but you fell to your knees instead, collapsing as darkness surrounded you. Your torso and head hit the ground with a thud, but no pain was felt when you hit the dirt. You just closed your eyes, feeling at peace.

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake series #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x you #bellamy blake x y/n #this is war series

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askweisswolf · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Enemy That Shall Be Destroyed (Clexa, The 100 AU)

I have no justification for this.

Major thanks @kokkoro who let me scream on Discord about this idea and @moczothe1st who lent his wonderful Batverse expertise because what I know of the lore is so small it could fit into a thimble.

AO3 link

It was moments like these where Clarke realized it’d be so much easier to let go.

There was darkness dancing around the corners of her vision and she tasted blood on her tongue, and everything hurt. She’d fallen, she thought--fallen too far, broken something. Another fight, another misjudged jump, another gadget malfunction. She couldn’t remember; her brain had gone fuzzy alarmingly fast. All she knew was she was on the ground when she wasn’t before, and everything hurt.

God. It’d be so easy.

She could just close her eyes, she thought. It wouldn’t be hard; the darkness was already there on the edge, waiting for her like an old friend. She could just close her eyes, and the pain would stop. Raven was shouting somewhere in her ear and well, okay, that was rude, but she was so tired and everything hurt so it was easy to ignore it.

It’d be so easy. All she had to do was close her eyes.

(This was what Clarke remembered, always:

She remembered Jake lunging for the gun the moment it was aimed at his wife and child.

She remembered Abby shoving her behind her body even as her husband fell and died in front of her.)

She groaned, bringing her hand to her earpiece. “Jesus, Raven, I’m right here.”

It came out wrong--slurred and ragged and she coughed up something wet and warm with it--but Raven laughed and it almost sounded like crying. “Holy fuck, Clarke--”

“Please tell me we got something from that. I don’t think I can do it a second time.” She couldn’t remember what it was right now and that was a little alarming, but she absolutely knew whatever it was she couldn’t do it again.

“I’ll look at the data in a second, okay, I’ll look at it all when you get back, I promise. Just stay awake, Wells is on his way right now.”

“Mkay.” Clarke’s hand fell away and she sighed, gingerly rolling over onto her back and gripping her ribs as she turned her gaze to the stars overhead.

She didn’t close her eyes.

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Clarke was counting the stars in the sky when Wells arrived. His car was silent--it always was--so she tilted her head slightly to watch him pull up and park as close to her as he dared. She managed a weak smile, gave a small salute, and tried to ignore how wet his responding chuckle was.

He knelt down next to her, but he didn’t touch yet. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.” It should have been funny, she wanted it to be funny, but the sigh those words came out on hurt too much for her to try. “I think… brain’s still a little fuzzy, but my chest took the worst of it. Landed on my side. Might have banged my head, since I can’t think clearly.”

Wells took her words for what they are; he finally reached out, gingerly urging her to sit up and slinging her arm over his shoulders. “I’ll take a look when we get you home,” he promised. “Just gotta get through the next few minutes, okay? One, two—“

Clarke lurched up before three, but Wells braced himself and went up with her, tightening his grip on her wrist and resting a tentative, steadying hand on her hip, mindful of her side. Her legs held for a single, hopeful second before ultimately betraying her, and she leaned on her best friend like he was the only thing keeping her steady, felt the way he leaned back into her to support her.

Wells Jaha, her rock.

If only he knew.

“Sorry,” she managed, once she could catch her breath.

Wells shook his head. “I’ve got you. Just relax.”

“My bike—“

“I’ll pick it up later. Let’s go home, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded tiredly, nuzzling into the space where Wells’ neck met his shoulder, and she finally closed her eyes.

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Clarke’s sleep was dark and dreamless, and when she finally managed to open her eyes again she was back home, true to Wells’ word.

Or, well--she was under home, if she wanted to be technical about it. As she blinked blearily, she could tell that from the sound alone; the faint roar of the distant waterfall and the steady, soothing drip of water on rock, the low hum of the underground stream. For all intents and purposes the cave was basically a part of home at this point, so she more or less considered it the same thing.

As her gaze finally cleared and sharpened, she became aware of the fact someone was beside her. She didn’t have to even tilt her head to figure out who it was; the pure aura of anger she could feel prickling next to her gave away who it was immediately. “If you want to say I look like shit, Wells already beat you to it,” she said, figuring the words couldn’t make anything worse .

“It’s almost like you look like shit because you didn’t wait for me,” Octavia snapped, and Clarke finally accepted the inevitable and tilted her head slightly to look at the other woman seated next to her. The brunette had taken off her mask and had tucked away her crossbow, but it didn’t do anything to help the fury blazing in her eyes.

Clarke grimaced and shifted on the cot Wells had settled her on, holding up both hands carefully. “You were dealing with a raid,” she began. “Even if I had called for you, by the time you would have made it to me--”

“Bullshit, I know the city like the back of my hand and you know it. I could have been there in a few minutes, tops. You just couldn’t be assed to wait.”

“This was a huge tip, okay? I had to move on it while it was still fresh. And it worked out, didn’t it? I still got the information.” Clarke paused, pressed her lips together. “Plus, considering the welcome I got in that warehouse, I don’t know how much having you with me would have helped.”

“I’m going to kill her,” Octavia told Wells as he came back from the massive computer Raven was hunched over, furiously working and ignoring her three old friends. “I’m sorry you went through so much trouble to bring her back here.”

Wells paused, looking between them for a moment. “Can I at least check her over before you kill her?”

Clarke groaned. “Wells.”

Octavia leaned back in her chair, wordlessly giving the man permission. Wells stepped up to Clarke’s side, and the blonde instinctively straightened up as he flicked on a flashlight and skimmed it over her eyes, lingering for a moment before he tucked it away. “She isn’t wrong,” he finally said. “You should have waited.”

“Wells--”

“Now you have a minor concussion and a few broken ribs for your trouble. You’re not dead, so there’s that, and maybe you’re right and her presence wouldn’t have helped, but you know what? It couldn’t have hurt.”

There was nothing Clarke could think to say in response to any of that; nothing she could say to that, so instead she huffed quietly and slumped back into her pillow. Beside her, Octavia let out a low whistle. “Damn, Jaha,” she said. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You’re acting like I’ve never gotten hurt before,” Clarke finally sighed.

“You’ve gotten hurt before, you’ve never been reckless before,” Wells snapped back. “The information was good, but you wouldn’t have lost anything by waiting five or ten minutes for Octavia to back you up.”

Clarke chewed her bottom lip, before she finally shifted carefully and nodded. “You’re right,” she conceded. “I got… excited, and I rushed into this without thinking. I’m sorry.”

Octavia let out another whistle. “Damn, Jaha. Can you tell me what your secret is? Every time I try to get her to admit she’s wrong it’s like pulling teeth.”

“Fuck off, Octavia.”

Octavia grinned, getting to her feet. “You love me. You’ll be taking it easy for at least a day or two with those injuries?”

Clarke’s immediate response was to open her mouth and say no, she wasn’t about to do any such damn thing because the city’s underbelly was hardly going to stop running just because she’d gone and gotten herself hurt, but a look from Wells made the words turn to ash on her tongue. “A couple hours,” she said. “Maybe a day. I can still do some light patrolling, right?”

Wells sighed. “Let’s see how that concussion clears up first.”

The blonde smirked, unable to resist. “And you always said you never wanted to be a doctor.”

He chuckled. “We do what we have to.”

“Damn right we do.” Clarke shifted her head slightly, peering at where Raven still was by the computer--Octavia had lovingly dubbed it the Bat-Computer, but the other woman absolutely refused to let the name stick. “We get anything worthwhile from that information, Rae?”

“Si, jefa. As usual, I’m a genius. You’re welcome.” Raven stood up from the chair and pulled the drive out, making her way over to her friends. “Took a little bit of cleaning up to get a decent look at it, but here you go. All the proof you need that Carl Emerson has been selling those modified weapons circulating through the black market recently.”

It was really just confirmation of what they all already knew, and in the grand scheme of things Emerson was ultimately a bit player, but it was a small thread weaved into a much grander whole, and Clarke would take what she could tonight. Hurting like this, she needed a win. “You’re the best.”

“I always am, babe, keep up.” Raven took a moment to look Clarke over, subtly shifting her weight off of her bad leg; it always started to ache if she spent too long working, but she could ignore it for a little longer. “We can probably run this to someone and still get an official arrest. You up for that, or…”

Clarke wanted to say she was, because she knew exactly who was waiting for this information and she wasn’t sure Octavia would play nice with her; the brunette was blunt at the best of times with people who weren’t involved in her inner circle, and Commissioner Kane had developed a thick skin for it over her years of activity in the city, but an outsider would definitely be present at the drop off tonight. Besides that, the information had been given to Clarke, not to Octavia, and her pride demanded she be the one to finish what she’d started.

Clarke wanted to say she was up for it, but she felt the burn as she breathed and could only imagine the kind of headache she’d get from trying to move that much so soon after hitting her head, and beyond all of that she was pretty sure that if she did say it Wells and Octavia would team up and finally kill her.

What Clarke said instead, with a deep sigh that almost made her ribs ache, was “Octavia, don’t make me regret this.”

“Hey now.” Octavia plucked the drive from Raven’s hand. “I can play nice when I have to. It’s just Kane, right? I’ve worked with him a million times now. I’m actually starting to like him.”

“It won’t just be Kane tonight. So please actually be nice? At least try to be?”

Green eyes slowly narrowed, looking the blonde over. “Who else will be there?”

“Well, the person who passed that information to me, for one. She might help us out more in the future, so again, be nice. Please.”

“You’re being oddly tight lipped about this.” Octavia glanced between Raven and Wells. “Either of you know anything about this?”

Raven held up both hands, backing off. “No, nope, I’m not getting involved. I already told Clarke this was potentially a bad idea, I’m not having that argument again. I’m going home now that my work is done, because unlike you losers I actually have a stable romantic partner who enjoys my company.”

Wells sighed. “No one you’d know,” he told Octavia. “I can vouch that she’s clear, though. Even if Clarke got reckless tonight to have some results for her.”

“Traitor,” Clarke groaned.

“That tells me a whole lot of nothing, but fine. I’ll go and I’ll play nice, whatever that even means because neither of you are telling me anything about this supposed new contact.” Octavia paused. “And I’m going as I am. I’m not playing dress up again to be you.”

Clarke chuckled, closing her eyes. “Oh, man. We haven’t done that in awhile.”

“We’re never doing it again if I have any control over it.”

“You two are idiots,” Raven cut in, but her voice was affectionate as Clarke opened her eyes again--she wasn’t going to risk keeping them closed for too long at the moment. “If that’s all settled, I’m going to head out. I think I’ve done all I can for tonight.”

The blonde tilted her head, smiling tiredly at the Latina. “Good work tonight, Raven. You really came through.”

“Yeah, yeah, you say that every time.” The words were softened by the kiss the other woman pressed to her forehead. “Try and get some sleep, jefa. I’ll see you later?”

“Always.”

“Good. See you later too, Wells. Don’t kill anyone, Octavia.”

Wells gave Raven a small wave at the same time as Octavia flipped her off. Raven responded to both of these gestures with a blown kiss, and then she was gone. Octavia studied where she’d been for a moment, then dropped her hand to Clarke’s shoulder and squeezed. “I agree with what she said,” she murmured. “Try and get some sleep, Clarke. You look like you really need it.”

“That hurts. That’s hurtful.”

“It’s supposed to hurt, I’m trying to shame you into sleeping.”

“You’re such an ass.” But Clarke’s hand came up and found Octavia’s, squeezed reassuringly.

“You’ve known that about me for years.” Octavia lingered a moment, then pulled away. “I’ll head out then for this meeting with Kane and your mystery informant. Usual place, right?”

“Mm, yeah. Top of the precinct near the signal. They’ll be expecting me, so you won’t have to wait for them.”

The brunette grinned. “The Bat Signal?”

Clarke groaned. “Go. I’ll--try to get some sleep.”

Octavia left--finally--with a promise to send Clarke a message in the morning letting her know how the meeting had gone. The blonde took a quiet breath, tilting her head slightly to look at the man who was left sitting beside her. “Hey,” she said, finally giving in and letting exhaustion seep into her tone. Letting pain seep into her tone because God, she hurt.

“Hey,” Wells answered, his eyes soft.

“Do I still look like shit?”

That got a laugh out of him, even if it sounded as exhausted as she felt. “A little, yeah. It’s not as bad as when I found you, but…”

“That’s fair.” Clarke sighed. “Help me up? I think the world’s going to spin if I try to do it myself.”

Wells was already getting to his feet before she even finished speaking; when she held out her hand, he took it without any hesitation. They’d done this now a thousand times, and there was no doubt in either of them they’d be doing it a thousand times more as he pulled her up, easily slinging her arm over his shoulders and bracing his hand against her back to help steady her as she staggered on her feet for the second time that night.

“Thanks,” the blonde managed, when the pain from moving faded enough for her to be able to manage words. “Wells?”

“Yeah, Clarke?”

“You can pick up my bike tomorrow. Can you just… stay with me tonight? Please?”

Clarke knew she didn’t need to ask, not really. Wells had been by her side when her parents had been buried on a cloudy, rainy day, and he hadn’t complained when she’d held his hand so tightly she was sure it had to hurt. He’d had his chance to leave when she’d been seventeen and struggling to breathe, and yet he’d chosen to stay. She didn’t need to ask him every time.

Yet, a part of her still needed the confirmation. The reminder that after everything, he was still beside her and ready to keep going with it.

“Of course.” His voice was steady, like always. “Come on, lean on me. We’ll deal with everything in the morning.”

It may not have been the ending to her night Clarke had wanted, but it wasn’t the ending it could have been. She was willing to take it.

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“She’s late.”

From most people, that would have been an accusation; when Anya said it, it was simply a statement of fact. Lexa watched her breath mist in the late night--early morning? She didn’t know what time it was, she hadn’t brought her phone with her--air, and didn’t reply. The words weren’t meant for her.

Marcus Kane’s eyes were still trained on the signal he’d lit, patient. “She’ll come,” he said.

“And if she doesn’t?”

“She will. If she doesn’t, Huntress will instead.” Marcus shrugged, finally shifting his eyes to look at the women. “One of them will come.”

Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t give that information to Huntress,” she said. “I gave it to Batwoman, and I expect Batwoman to be the one coming to us with the results.”

“You’ll have to learn to live with disappointment, then.”

Anya’s entire body stiffened at the same time Lexa’s heart jumped at the unfamiliar voice. She wasn’t even sure where the new person had come from; she seemed to have simply materialized from the shadows, and the only thing that gave her away was the gleam of her eyes and the splashes of purple and white against the black of her suit.

Marcus smiled slightly; in comparison to his companions, he actually seemed to relax at the sight of their visitor. “Huntress.”

Huntress--not Batwoman--glanced at him, dipping her head slightly in greeting. “Commissioner.” Her eyes slid past him, focusing on the man standing quietly near the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed. It might have been a trick of the dark, but Lexa swore her gaze actually softened when she looked at him. “Officer.”

Keeping watch by the door, Lincoln lifted his hand in response to her acknowledgement, and now Lexa knew the night was playing tricks on her because she could have sworn the large, usually quiet and reserved man actually smiled slightly. She and Anya shared a glance, communicating without a single word.

“Anyway.” Huntress reached into her belt, flipping open a pouch. “I’ve got the flash drive right here. Batwoman got the information and it’s all been cleaned up for your use. I think you’re going to like what it says.”

Lexa looked the other woman over. Of the two vigilantes that called Arkadia home, she’d ultimately chosen to reach out to Batwoman for a reason; by all accounts Huntress was steady enough and trusted by the people of the city, but she had a ruthless streak that her companion didn’t share. Lexa had wanted to get her information, preferably without any blood on her hands if she could manage it, and she’d known Batwoman was the best chance she had of accomplishing that.

Instead of Batwoman, though, it was Huntress who had returned with the information.

Before Lexa could let her train of thought reach its logical conclusion, her eyes met the other brunette’s. Huntress looked at her for a moment, then at Anya, then back at Lexa again before she snorted. “Ah,” she said. “I see. You’re the informant she was being so tight lipped about, I assume?”

Lexa’s eyebrows went up, but she stepped forward and accepted the flash drive when Huntress held it out to her. “I didn’t know she mentioned me.”

“She didn’t mention you at all besides saying you’d be here, that was half the problem.” She rolled her eyes when Anya’s gaze hardened, her mouth beginning to open; the vigilante held up a hand before she could speak. “Relax,” she said. “Like I said, I don’t know anything about either of you besides the fact that you’re new, and frankly I don’t care to know who you are. Bats is the one who plays nice with you types.”

Anya didn’t relax an inch. “You seemed perfectly fine with the Commissioner and Forest.”

Huntress shrugged. “I’m used to them, so I tolerate them now. It’s not personal. If that’s all, can I go? I was just supposed to drop this thing off, not have tea and a friendly chat.”

What a charming woman.

Anya rolled her eyes at the same time Kane gave an amused, almost tired shake of his head, and Lexa could have sworn Lincoln was actually trying to muffle a laugh back by the door into the building as Huntress turned away to head back out. After that exchange it was terribly tempting to keep quiet and let the other woman go on her way, but…

“Is Batwoman okay?”

That made Huntress pause, and she turned back around to give Lexa a quiet look. The other brunette met her gaze evenly, even as she could feel her temper beginning to fray along the edges. She’d given the information to Batwoman assuming that it would be an easy enough task that would end with nobody dead, and now there was a very real possibility that she had been wrong. Lexa hadn’t been in Arkadia for long, and her partnership with the other vigilante was recent, but the thought still sat poorly with her.

Eventually Huntress decided she must have liked what she saw as Lexa continued to hold her gaze, because she finally sighed. “She’s fine,” she said. “If you’re out and about tomorrow night I’m sure you’ll see her again.”

That was all Lexa was going to get out of her, it seemed, because right after she said those words she just--stepped off the building like it was nothing. Lexa’s heart briefly flew into her throat before she heard the whistle of a grappling hook, and then Huntress was gone almost as silently as she’d come.

There was a beat of silence.

“She seems nice,” Anya said at last as Kane made his way over to her and Lexa, taking the flash drive from her when she offered it.

“She’s kept us safe for years,” Kane replied, his tone even but firm; Anya got the hint and kept her mouth shut, though Lexa could see the way she briefly clenched her jaw. “We should go inside and take a look at this. Knowing Batwoman it’s been cleaned up, but it could still be a lot of information to work through. The sooner we get through it the better.”

Lexa wordlessly agreed. She’d come this far to get what she had in her hands now; hopefully, she only needed a little bit more to see things through to the end. She didn’t know what came for her after this was all done--she’d never let herself think that far ahead--but she knew she was getting closer to it, step by step. It would do her well to go inside as quickly as Anya had followed after Kane and Lincoln, blowing into her hands to try and bring some warmth back into her body after almost an hour of the night chill.

Instead she lingered by the door, letting her eyes gaze out over the city that was either tucked away peacefully in sleep or just starting to stir in the early morning. She waited, hoping against all hope that maybe, just maybe Huntress would be wrong and Batwoman would somehow magically materialize in front of her. The other woman’s words had been less than helpful, and Lexa had always had an awfully vivid imagination.

(Nia had been counting on that.)

Lexa waited, but Batwoman didn’t appear, and with one final look out over the city the brunette stepped inside and closed the door behind her, taking a moment to rub her eyes before she checked the lock and headed downstairs to see what information they now had

Sleep could wait. There was still work to be done.

#clexa #the 100 #Clarke Griffin #Lexa #my writing

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hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis · 4 years ago

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Virago 11. Ring of Fire

Summary: Y/N was sent to the ground after spending five years in the Skybox for stealing medical supplies and murder. How will she deal with her new environment and learn to survive on earth? Will she crack under the pressure of becoming a leader of the 100 or will she embrace it.

Post Date: 07.17.20

Word count: 3.3k

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Based off: 01x13 “We are Grounders: Part II”

Masterlist

100 Master List

You head over to the Dropship walking through the cluster of kids packing up as you hear screams of pain. As you make your way into the Dropship you find Clarke pressing a red hot knife against Raven’s wounded body.

“That’ll stop the external bleeding,” Clarke states setting the knife down.

“I don’t understand. How did Murphy get a gun?” Finn asks.

“Long story,” You respond as you limp in.

“You should be resting,” Bellamy states to you.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” You respond making your way to Raven.

“We got lucky. If Murphy hit the fuel tank instead of me, we’d all be dead,” Raven says raspily.

“Wait, there’s rocket fuel down there? Enough to build a bomb?” Clarke questions Raven.

“Enough to build 100 bombs...If we had any gunpowder left,” Raven states.

“Let’s get back to the reapers. Maybe they’ll help us. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?” Bellamy asks clearly referring to something you didn’t know about.

“Not this enemy. We saw them. Trust me. It’s not an option,” Clarke states.

“Hold up. Can someone catch me up?” You ask looking at the three.

“Lincoln took Finn and me into a cave where these grounders live, except they’re not like the ones we’ve met. They’re the kill on sight kind of people.” Clarke explains.

“There’s no time for this.” Finn states. “Can she walk or not?” He makes his voice quieter, thinking that Raven couldn’t hear.

“No. We have to carry her.” Clarke responds.

“The hell you will. I’m good to go,” Raven says struggling to sit up.

“Hey, listen to me. That bullet is still inside you. If by some miracle, there’s no internal bleeding, it might hold until we get somewhere safe. But you are not walking there. Is that clear?” Clarke questions Raven as she nods in agreement.

“Hey, I’d be much happier if you didn’t die on me,” You say to Raven.

“I’ll get the stretcher,” Finn says walking off.

“Hey, get one for Y/N too,” Clarke says and Finn nods in response.

“I’m fine. I can walk if. I’m going.” You respond sternly.

“Your wound was just reopened. Not to mention gaining another one. You’re too weak to walk,” Clarke responds back.

“Carrying me will just make us slower. I’ll walk.” You respond not backing down. Clarke does nothing but sigh as we really had no time to fight.

“Can’t run away fast, huh? Real brave.” Bellamy states.

“Dying in a fight you can’t win isn’t brave, Bellamy. It’s stupid.” Finn makes his way back to us.

“Spoken like every coward who’s ever run from a fight,” Bellamy says getting closer to Finn.

“All right that’s enough,” You butt in.

“It’s time to go,” Clarke chimes in.

“If they follow? It’s a 120-mile walk to the ocean,” Bellamy starts.

“Look, we’re wasting time. If they want to stay, they can stay,” Finn interrupts walking off.

“No, they can’t,” Clarke says as Finn storms out of the Dropship. “We can’t do this without you guys, Bellamy and Y/N,” Clarke turns back to us.

“What do you want me to say, Clarke?” Bellamy asks.

“I want you to say that you’re with us. Both of you. Those kids out there, they listen to you guys.” Clarke says shifting her gaze between the two of you.

“They’re lining up to go. They listen to you more,” You add in.

“I gave them an easy choice,. But five minutes ago, they were willing to fight and die for you. You guys inspire them. I’m afraid we’re gonna need that again before this day is through.” Clarke tells you two before walking off.

“So what are we gonna do?” You ask turning to Bellamy.

“We’re leaving. Get packing.” Bellamy states before walking out.

You leave the Dropship and start to quickly pack your items out before making your way back to the Dropship. You help the others get Raven onto a stretcher and meet Bellamy outside as the other kids start to leave the camp.

“You guys did good here,” Clarke says as you two make your way to her.

“18 dead,” You state.

“82 alive, you guys did good, Clarke responds back. Bellamy picks up the bucket beside him and toses the water inside atop the fire behind him.

We continue through the forest, making our way to the ocean. After walking a few miles, you notice Octavia, who was at the front, put her hand up, stopping us all. The next thing you know you see a kid up ahead fall down.

“Grounders!” You hear Jasper yell and everyone starts to run back from where we came. You start to run back with the others. You only make it a few feet before your leg gives out and you trip over your own feet, sending you to the ground.

“Y/N!” Bellamy yells stopping in his tracks. “Here, get on my back,” Bellamy leans down as you grab his shoulders. He lifts you up and starts to run back to the camp. As you make it back to the camp Bellamy sets you down and helps get the others into camp.

“Move, move, move!” Bellamy yells to the kids as they push and shove. As soon as everyone was in you help push the gate shut no matter how much your leg hurt. You just wanted to get everyone safely inside, or as safe as we could be.

You head up to where Bellamy and Clarke were standing to look for the grounders, “Where are they? Why aren’t they attacking?” Bellamy asks ready to shoot.

“Because we’re doing exactly what they want us to do,” You state.

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy asks.

“Lincoln said the scouts would be the first to arrive,” Clarke states.

“If it’s just the scouts, we can fight our way out. That’s what Lincoln would do,” Octavia states walking up to us.

“We’re done doing what that grounder would do. We tried it and now Drew is dead. You want to be next?” Bellamy questions jumping down from the ledge.

“That grounder saved our lives. I agree with Octavia. For all we know, there’s one scout out there.” Finn responds.

“One scout with insanely good aim,” Jasper adds.

“Clarke, we can still do this,” Octavia states.

“Looking to you, Princess. What’s it gonna be? Run and get picked off out in the open, or stand and fight back?” Bellamy asks. Clarke turns to look out past the walls before hopping down from the ledge as you do the same.

“Clarke. If we’re still here when Tristan gets here--” Finn stops Clarke.

“Lincoln said ‘scouts’ more than one. He said ‘get home before the scouts arrive’. Finn, they’re already here.” Clarke interrupts Finn. “ Looks like you got your fight,” Clarke turns to Bellamy.

“Ok, then. This is what we’ve been preparing for. Kill them before they kill us. Gunners, to your posts. Use the tunnels to get in and out. From now on. The gate stays closed.” Bellamy states as kids start to prepare to fight.

You head off with Octavia to prepare to fight, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You guy’s aren’t gunners,” Bellamy grapes both yours and Octavia’s arms.

“No. We’re not,” You respond.

“Like you said....I’m a grounder,” Octavia responds holding her machete before walking off. You start to follow her before Bellamy stops you again.

“What?” You ask wanting to get a move on.

“You’re not going anywhere. Not with that leg,” Bellamy’s eyes shift down to your leg then back to your eyes.

“I’m fighting, Bell. I’m not letting anything happen to our people,” You respond annoyed.

“Look. Y/N. You tripped on the way back to camp. You can barely stand.” Bellamy points to you favoring your left leg. “I’m not letting you get hurt more than you already are. You can’t fight. We have this handled, Now get in the Dropship with Raven.” Bellamy responds back.

“You don’t control me!” You yell getting angry. “I can’t just sit back and hope all goes well. I want to be out here fighting, protecting what we made, Bell!” You state.

“Hey, I’m sorry, Y/N. But Bellamy’s right. We can’t have you out here risking your life, being that hurt. We need you alive.” Clarke butts in walking up to you two.

“Ugh!” You head into the Dropship being sick of hearing people telling you what to do. You throw your stuff to the side before starting to head up the ladder.

“Got benched too?” You hear Raven off to the side.

“Yeah. Clarke and Bellamy are heart set on keeping me in here,” You say making your way to her. “I’m sick of people telling me what to do,” You sit next to her.

“With all due respect, Y/N. But I agree with them. You need your strength and we need you. I would love to fight too but--” Raven gestures to her gun wounds.

“I get that they’re just looking out for me. But I can’t just sit back here and wait,” You say. Before Raven could respond, you notice Bellamy, and Clarke makes their way in.

“We’ve got 25 rifles with 20 rounds each, give or take. Roughly 500 rounds of ammo. While you two were gone. We made some improvements. Thanks to Raven, the gully is mined.” Bellamy explains as you all gather around the mini-map of the camp.

“Partially mined. Thanks to Murphy,” Raven explains straining.

“Still, it’s the main route in. If the grounders use it, we’ll know. She also built grenades,” Bellamy explains picking up a slim tube.

“It’s not many,” You point out.

“Again, thank you, Murphy,” Raven says annoyed.

“We’ll make them count.” Bellamy sets the grenade back down. “If the grounders make it through the front gate, guns and grenades should force them back,” Bellamy explains.

“And then?” Clarke asks.

“Then we close the door and pray.” Raven breaks the silence.

“And pray what?” You ask.

“That the ship keeps them out? Because it won’t.” Clarke adds.

“Then let’s not let them get through the gate,” Bellamy responds. “All foxholes, listen up. Keep your eyes and ears open. Inflict casualties, as many as possible. You can hold them off long enough to make them turn back. That’s the plan.” Bellamy speaks into the radio.

“That’s always your plan, just like at the bridge.” Finn states.

“Damn right. You got a better idea?” Bellamy asked back.

“It can’t be that simple,” Clarke whispers under her breath and turns to Raven. “You said there’s fuel in those rockets right? Enough to build 100 bombs.” Clarke asks her.

“I also said we’ve got no gun powder left.” Raven states.

“I don’t want to build a bomb. I want to blast off.” Clarke says.

“Draw them in close. Fire the rockets. A ring of fire.” Raven says figuring out what Clarke was getting at.

“Barbecued grounders. I like it.” Bellamy says.

“I don’t,” You butt in.

“We don’t have much of a choice, Y/N,” Bellamy says back.

“Will it work?” Finn turns to Raven.

“The wirings a mess down there, but yeah. You give me enough time, I’ll cook them real good.” Raven responds. You say nothing as you can clearly tell no one cares for your opinion. Clarke and Finn head down into the underside of the ship as you help Raven with her set up.

“Finn, do you see it over there?” You hear Clarke below you guys.

“No,” Finn responds as you help her wire a few things.

“Raven, We can’t even find the ignition system. Raven?” Clarke says waiting for an answer. You watch as she sits there in thought.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Raven finally speaks.

“Ok, hold on. We’re coming,” Clarke says as you rush over.

“Hey, you’re gonna be ok. We’re gonna figure this out and then get you help. Ok, We got this,” You assure her as she nods.

“Ok, let me see,” Clarke says making her way out of the floor. Raven starts to lean forward as she groans in pain. Clarke lifts her shirt up to reveal bruising, before looking over at Finn.

“That bad, huh?” Raven asks sarcastically. Clarke stays silent as she helps Raven back up.

“Oh, Raven. The bullet’s in your spine. You’re bleeding internally,” Clarke explains.

“We better do this fast then, huh? Get back down there.” Raven responds, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

“What if we could slow the bleeding? Would that help?” Finn stops Clarke from moving.

“Well, of course it would help. Can you tell me how to do that?” Clarke asks.

“That stuff the grounders had-- coagulant. You said that Lincoln had some, too,” Finn explains.

“Yeah, it’s in the box with the antidote, but I--” Clarke starts.

“I’m betting that there’s more of it in his cave. If I can get there--” Finn interrupts.

“Wait a second. No,” Raven responds.

“I can make it,” Finn says back.

“Clarke, Y/N, tell him he’s being an idiot,” Raven responds.

“Raven,” Finn says.

“What? I’m not gonna let you die to save me,” Raven tells Finn.

“Fine. If you won’t let me save you, How about we save everybody else? You’re the only one who can fire those rockets. If you die, we all die.” Finn suggests. Raven shakes her head at him. “I’ll be right back,” Finn says looking at us and heads off.

“Finn, wait,” Clarke says getting up. You don’t hear their conversation as they are talking too quietly.

Seeing as there has been no recent activity you head outside to check up on everyone, “Hey, hows everyone out there?” You ask Bellamy making your way over to him.

“Freaked but alive.” He responds.

“You guys got enough stuff out here?” You ask.

“Yeah, I think so,” Bellamy says as you start to hear drums.

“They’re here,” Some kid says.

“Get back in the Dropship, Y/N,” Bellamy demands.

“But Bell--” You start.

“Get back in the damn ship, Y/N,” Bellamy demands once more before running off. Even though you wanted to fight you knew Bellamy was right. That and you still needed to help Raven and Clarke.

You rush back into the ship to help finish making Raven’s “Ring of Fire”. You find only Raven sitting by the hole, “Hey, where’s Clarke?” You asked her.

“Below us,” Raven explains.

“Ok, what can I do to help?” You ask.

“Could you help me wire this?” She asks and you nod back. She explains what she’s doing and walks you through the wiring as you hear the kids outside speaking over the radio.

“Do you see it or don’t you?” Raven asks Clarke looking down the hole.

“No. It’s a mess down here,” Clarke responds.

“It’ll be orange. Look harder!” Raven says back.

“I’ll go help her look,” You says starting to move towards the hole.

“No, your leg is too injured,” Raven says grabbing your arm. “And you’re actually a big help up here,”

“Fine,” You sigh.

“You have to find the wire that connects the manual override to the electromagnet. It’s not rocket science.” Raven tells Clarke.

“It is rocket science, actually,” Clarke responds.

“Guess we finally found something you’re not good at. I used to be picked first for everything. Earth skills, Zero-g mech course. First… every time. So, how the hell did I end up here?” Raven says as you clearly notice Raven getting sad.

“Raven? I’d pick you first.” You say looking up at her.

“I’d pick you first too,” Clare says in quick succession after you.

“Of course you guys would. I’m awesome,” Raven says shaking off the sadness.

“Hey, I found it. Orange wire.” Clarke says.

“About time! Now follow that wire to the override panel,” Raven explains.

“Raven? It’s fried. Totally useless. Tell me this isn’t as bad and I think.” Clarke says as you notice Raven’s upset face.

“You know how to splice a wire?” Raven asks.

“No,” Clarke responds.

“Then it’s worse,” Raven says. She tries to move before screaming in pain.

“Raven. Stop, we’ll figure this out.” You say. “Wait. I can splice, someone taught me a few years ago.” You reveal as you hop down below. You start to splice the wire.

“Hey, Raven, tell us again how this is gonna work,” Clarke asks.

“Told you 5 times. Current flows to the electromagnet. That opens the poppet valve. Rockets fire.” Raven explains.

“Ok. Got the good wire ready to graft on. What’s next?” You ask. “Raven?” You ask after getting no response. “Raven!” You yell once more before Clarke starts to head back up. You follow after her and find her laying on her side, unconscious.

“Is she--” You start.

“Not yet, but soon.” Clarke quickly responds.

“They broke through. There’s hundreds of them! They’re heading for the gate! Game over, man!” You hear over the radio.

“Finish it,” Clarke says getting ready to help Raven.

“Current to magnet to valve to fire,” You repeat heading back under the floor. As you work on the wiring you hear kids starting to rush into the Dropship, signaling that Clarke is preparing to get people inside.

“Clarke, they’re taking down the gate,” You hear someone say as you finish up the wiring.

“Good. Because I did it...I think,” You say popping your head from under the floor.

“I’m closing that door,” Miller says.

“Wait! We’ve still got people out there. Bellamy’s not back yet.” Clarke says making her way out of the ship. You finish hooking up the destination switch as Jasper helps you. You look up to see Clarke come in and lift the lever to shut the door.

“No! We have to wait for Bellamy and Octavia!” You yell trying to make your way to her as quickly as possible.

“We don’t have time. I’m sorry, Y/N. We have to shut the door.” Clarke says continuing to lift the lever and holding you from leaving the ship. As you continue to fight Clarke, you see Anya come into the ship. You prepare yourself to fight, holding the knife you keep in your pocket up. As you all continue to stand off Anya, you hear banging of the grounders outside.

“Jasper, now.” Clarke turns to him. He quickly flicks the switch up, but nothing happens as you continue to hear banging from outside the ship.

“Anya, you can’t win,” Clarke says as you rush over to help Jasper. Anya rushes Clarke just as Miller hits her in the back of her head with a gun. The other kids start to punch and kick her.

“Stop! She’s already down.” Clarke yells over the kids.

“Raven says current flows to the magnet.” You say.

“We just need a current,” Jasper says unhooking the switch device as you take the wires. You ignore the fighting around you as Jasper grabs a lamp behind you guys and starts to unscrew it. He takes the wires from your hands and puts them on the battery of the lamp. Soon enough you feel the whole ship shake.

After a few hours, you guess to make sure no one else comes. You quickly go to open the door. When you walk out you see the burnt ground and remains of the grounders that were there. As you and everyone else head out of the ship you quickly look around hoping that Bellamy and Octavia had found a place away from the chaos. You walk over to Clarke as you see her stare at two bodies, hoping it wasn’t the two people closest to you.

Before you could say something you see something fly towards you releasing a red smoke. More and more fly over your gates as the area begins to look red. You start coughing and fall to the ground. The last thing you see is green lasers and people with gas masks and guns as you pass out.

A/N: The season one finale! God, this series has evolved in more ways than I imagined. I hope you all enjoyed this finale and can’t wait for season 2! Thank you for reading!

#The 100 #the 100 series #the 100 imagine #the 100 x reader #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #octavia blake #clarke griffin #jasper jordan #Finn Collins #raven reyes #100virago

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tired-college-student-writing · 5 years ago

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Tim’s Secret Weapon Pt. 4

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4 (HERE)

Part 5

_______________________________________________________________________

“Yup!” Jason popped the ‘p’ before holding up the book Tim had given him, “Who’s ready for storytime?”

“What do you mean Tim is afraid I would throw him out?” Bruce pushed even as Jason led them towards one of the desks, “I want to help him with-”

“Yeah I’m gonna stop you there,” Jason cut him off, eyes hard as he set the book down with an uncharacteristic amount of care,“Tim was very offended by what we thought was going on with him and it just made him more sure that all of us were going to leave him behind as his shitty parents did. So let’s just cut to the chase and cool off before he seriously decides to run off before we can go talk to him because I’m pretty sure even after talking to him for twenty minutes, he’s still around seventy-five percent sure that’s going to be a better option than waiting around.”

Jason had never seen the energy of a room shift so fast, the anger and bloodlust that had been suffocating since Dick uncovered the file on Marinette vanished into a deep rippling uncertainty. If there was one unspoken rule of the household, it was that no previous trauma will knowingly be replicated. It’s why Jason always makes a point of leaving his guns in the cave and never points them passed Bruce unless it’s life or death. Why no one touched the trapeze unless Dick was going up with them and they always used a net, no matter how good their aerial skills were. Why no one spoke to Jason in angry or stern Arabic. No one told Damian he was overreacting, especially when it was about illness or injuries.

No one was allowed to make Tim think they were abandoning him.

Dick looked stricken at the very idea, “Jay, why is Tim so scared?”

“Short answer? Tim’s Meta.”

The whole room froze, eyes flying wide, making Jason chuckle, “Yeah that was my response to.”

“How long?” Bruce asked, hand gripping the back of his chair so hard, Jason wondered if he was going to break it.

“From what he said, he was born with his power, it’s always on and pretty impossible for him to block out.”

Damian’s face scrunched, “And father always made it clear that he doesn’t like Metas in Gotham.”

“Fuck,” Dick swore, turning to punch the cave wall, “How the actual shit did we miss this? We’re fucking detectives goddamn it!”

Seeing Dick lose it like that made Jason pause. It was rare to see the carefree brother truly get mad about anything, let alone for him to cuss up a storm, he always did prefer those filler cusses that make the rest of them groan.

But then again Damian looked pained and Bruce was sinking into the Bat-computer chair looking lost as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I never meant it like this,” Bruce whispered, “I just didn’t want anyone else coming to Gotham expecting to be able to fix it overnight. Did I really come off anti-meta?”

“I…” Jason winced, stopping to think, “I never thought so, but I can see how Tim thought you might be. We all need to talk to him, but I promised I’d explain some of this shit like Tim did to me, and look through his book so that we don’t all bombard him with questions.”

The four shared a look before they all surrounded the table as Jason began. He told them of the numbers, the skill Tim had that he never shared. After they opened the book they found that it was more complex than just that.

The entries started off very rudimentary, clearly written by a small child, the dates claiming that Tim began this journal when he was merely six years old. They detailed the color, font, and number of the person he had met. A few of the higher ranks having little ideas next to them on the cause, but as the list grew and the handwriting even outed, there were itemized lists on the reason for each number above a 5.

By the time they reached Bruce’s they were pretty dumbfounded as they read through Tim’s confusion and fear at the number that broke the code he’d knew through his whole life, his reason section was filled with sentences of ideas, instead of the short bullet points, trying to ration it out.

The most confusing part of it was he ruled things out that he couldn’t have known, insider trading and corruption would have been a logical conclusion for him to draw of the Billionaire he knew nothing about but he ruled them out instantly, not even bothering to consider they might be part of the reason.

Not to mention when he actually put it together.

“His power works on broadcasts as well?” Bruce mused, “I know I never saw he was never on the streets when I was out during this time period,”

“Adding it to the list of questions,” Dick said as he typed it out into the sheet he had made when they started asking too many questions only Tim could answer.

“Never mind that,” Damian brushed off, “Look at the traits he listed, all listed at the same time from the looks of the ink but if the date is to be believed, this is from before Todd was debuted as Robin, how did he know you had a mastery in hacking, spoke multiple languages and stunt flight?”

All of them froze at those words, hunching over it to look at the words.

There was no logical way Tim could know any of those things. Most of Batman’s skill set could be guessed through out the rumors and gossip that flew since the caped crusader started his reign of the city, but those skill sets still weren’t widely known to the public.

“I…” Bruce shook his head, “Add it to the list, we have a lot more of the book to get through to worry about this now. We should try and finish the book.

But the issue popped up again and again as the pages went on, each hero he met he knew their skills down to the littlest detail, things he shouldn’t be able to know, especially before he became the third Robin.

He knew Clark was Superman when he met the reporter first.

He knew Diane was made of clay before the woman had ever given away that little tidbit.

He knew that Barry was a wiz when it came to criminology before the speedster had ever given up his identity.

He knew Arthur had low-level empathic abilities that went beyond sea life before Arthur was even considered a hero.

They were only two-third of the way through the book, arguing over how The Commissioner could possibly know their identities, let alone why it would make his number rise so quickly when not even Bruce’s number had done so when he learned the other League member’s identities, when a stern voice cut through their thought.

“Gentlemen, There’s a bit of a situation that Master Tim and I discovered that could use your attention.” Alfred cut in, making them turn, stopping when they saw Tim practically sprint to the Bat computer, pointily looking at the wall to avoid looking at them, his shoulders so tight they shock.

“Tim?” Dick asked, concern dripping from his words as he started towards the younger man only to freeze as Tim visually flinched away from the word, curling inward as he frantically typed away on the keyboard.

Before any of them tried to break the silence again the giant screen lit up to show a battle play out. A young girl dressed in a red and polka-dotted outfit flipping and twisting out of the way of the pages thrown like ninja stars at her, a yoyo used to propel her, eyes filled with laughter behind her mask. Her moves were agile and practiced, as another figure, a boy her same age dressed in skin-tight black leather entered the frame.

“I figured out why Marinette is a 15,” He finally managed out, making the bats’, minus Jason, heads snap to him.

A 15?

The brat couldn’t just have a normal girlfriend, could he?

No, he had to have someone that shattered Tim’s power completely.

And he had no idea why, until now.

They really couldn’t blame him for being obsessive.

“I couldn’t find out why Mari was so powerful,” Tim rambled on, “But Alfred helped me realize that she’s a hero too. A hero with the power of the god of creation on her side, which makes sense for why she completely broke my, uh, my power. She’s been-”

“Tim,”

“-fighting a supervillain,” Tim just continued as if he hadn’t heard Bruce, his voice skipping up a few pitches, “ who also uses the power of a god to help him make others into villains to do his bidding. They’ve been locked in battle for years now. Years! We really should have noticed before now, but better late then never right? Heh, she has some allies though so it’s not like she was fighting on her own or anything, and-”

“Drake,” Damian cut in, ducking past Dick to grab Tim by the shoulder to spin him, staring into his eyes with the type of harsh determination only the demon spawn seemed to be able to, ignoring the quacking fear in Tim’s own eyes, “I am the byproduct of the daughter of one of Father’s greatest enemies drugging him. I was raised will one goal in mind, to be the ultimate weapon to take down all that stood in the way of the League of Assassins, and yet Father, Grayson, Todd, Pennyworth and you gave me safety and taught me why my grandfather was wrong. Todd was murdered by a clown with psychopathic tendencies, was brought back by the magic that my grandfather has a monopoly on, went crazy with Lazarth sickness and thought the best course of action was to become a crimelord in the very city he vowed to protect, going as far as trying to shoot Father, the man he saw as an older brother and you, the boy he was convinced Father had only brought into the circle to die as he had, and yet once the sickness faded Father welcomed back in with open arms, shedding tears for the child he thought he had lost. Father may have made it clear that he’s not a fan of metas operating in the city, but you’re a moron if you believe for a second that means he’s going to disown you or take Red Robin away from you. You’re also lost all my respect if you think this means I or any of the others that dawn the bat moniker are going to feel any different about you for having these powers.”

Tim’s mouth opened and closed several times after Damian’s speech had come to a close as the others waited for him to break the silence of the cave. All he could feel was his hands trembling as his eyes welled up.

Damian was still looking at him before sighing, “You really are an idiot,”

He wanted to retort, wanted to bite out a response as he blinked back the tears but he suddenly found Damian’s arms wrapped around his waist, a tight grounding embrace, the younger boy’s chin resting on his shoulder.

Tim wasn’t sure he was breathing, his whole body shaking like it was trying to shatter into a million pieces. The brat, Damian, the one person he thought would gladly cast him aside given the slightest of reason to was…

“You’re family, Tim,” Damian stern voice cut through his mental frenzy, “If I’ve learned one thing since moving to Gotham, it’s that you don’t give up on family, not for anything, and certainly not for something like this.”

Tim felt something inside him break and the next thing he knew he was sobbing into Damian’s shoulder the pair on their knees in the middle of the cave, gripping Damian back like he thought if he let go the boy would vanish. Slowly as he felt his breathing calm down and his sobs fade he could feel more arms surrounding him. The entire bat family was surrounding him, silently holding him through his breakdown.

He pulled back, scrubbing his eyes as his family slowly untangled from around him.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, voice scratchy from the tears, “I guess I should have known none of you would hate me but… I’ve been so scared that I’d lose you guys too. I didn’t want to risk it, I couldn’t risk it.”

He flinched slightly when a large hand squeezed his shoulder looking up into Bruce’s eyes, softened by a love that could destroy the world if his child was hurt. A love that none of the Waynes needed to put words to because of looks like this.

Glancing back to his brothers he saw the love in Bruce’s eyes reflected in theirs, all of them accepting him and loving him still.

The weight Tim had carried for as long as he knew to grow lighter as a small smile worked its way onto his face.

His eyes burning with the same intense love for his family back at them.

For the first time in a long time, Tim knew without a doubt

It would be okay.

_______________________________________________________________________

Tim couldn’t stop the whimper from falling from his lips as Marinette’s class came pouring out of the doors of the school.

All of the Wayne boys had decided to surprise Marinette by showing up at her class when it let out, in addition to not wanting to wait to reveal they knew her secret. It wasn’t hard to get all of them to Paris merely days after Tim’s secret came to light, especially since Bruce was planning on checking up on the Paris branch of Wayne Enterprises the following week before everything happened. Expanding the trip last minute to include all of them had taken little effort, and all of their suits were tucked away in their hotel suites, waiting to be dawned once they got Marinette alone.

Tim was ready to turn back now though and for a very good reason.

In the normal sea of threes and fours, normally Marinette stood out with her overwhelmingly soft pink 15, but now...

The tanned girl that had hoards of kids surrounding her had an obnoxious copper 9 floating above her, the font looking like a tiger had scratched it into the very fabric of space.

A trio of students, a bulky boy, a small pink-haired girl, and a dark-skinned nerdy-looking boy, were messing around as pale numbers circled their heads, a pair of stark white 12s over the boys and an icy blue 13 over the girl.

A pair of girls, one blonde and one of Asian descent, were bickering as they made their way down the steps, a canary yellow daintily drawn 14 for the blonde and deep burgundy calligraphed 13 for the more stoic girl.

And the blonde boy Marinette was happily conversing with, looking even more softspoken and sweet than the baker girl.

He had a venomous green 15 swirling over him in it’s rounded bubble-like font.

His brothers glanced at him warily.

“Everything okay Timmy?” Jason asked, eyes flitting over the crowed on instinct, looking for the threat that spooked him.

“I’ll tell you later,” He groaned back, “... but keep an eye on the girl in the orange jacket, she feels slimy from all the way over here,”

His brothers nodded, but even so, Tim felt a migraine coming on.

For once Tim wished for an alien invasion so he didn’t have to deal with this bullshit.

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @mewwitch @roseinbloom02 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mochinek0 @royalchaoticfangirl @09shell-sea09 @mystery-5-5 @derpingrainbow @aloha-posts-stuff @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @maribat-archive @blue-peach14 @kae690 @zazzlejazzle @vincentvangoose @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @celestiacq @peculiarlylostdreamer @dani-ari @melicmusicmagic @themcclan @nyctamaximoff @nataladriana9 @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @urbanpineapplefarmer @graduatedmelon @lexysama @hecate-hallow @ki117h3dr4g0n @vinerlover @interobanginyourmom @bluefiredemon @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @clumsy-owl-4178 @shizukiryuu @whogavemeaninternet @schrodingers25 @lunar-wolf-warrior @urbanpineapplefarmer @xxmadamjinxx @crazylittlemunchkin @littleredrobinhoodlum

#miraculous ladybug #batman #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #Tim Drake #meta!tim #BatFam #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #miraculous class #numbers AU #Tim is so tired

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 5 years ago

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Banished (Part 28)

*Not My Gif*

Summary: When the 100 was sent to the ground, Y/N Y/L/N was one of them. Having been locked up for almost 8 years, how will she react to surviving on Earth? Especially when she gets banished…

Post Date: 12-13-19

Paring: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Word Count: 3.2K

~Master~

~Banished Master~

*Based off episode 2x15 of The 100, Blood Must Have Blood (Part 1)

Since you thought you saw your mom, you’ve been trying to take it easy. You wanted to be here. You needed to be here, but everything seemed to be going a million miles a minute. The Grounders hadn’t made your life any easier, neither had seeing your dead mom though. You didn’t know what was happening but no matter how much you tried to shake off the feeling and thoughts, it just didn’t work and you found yourself thinking more and more about Mount Weather.

Clarke caught on quickly. She was shocked her mom even allowed you to leave Camp Jaha after the injuries you’ve endured without a proper check up. But here you were. And something was up.

Your non-stitched leg bounced against the ground as you fixated on your mom sitting by the fire in front of you. Her eyes met yours with for a split second before Clarke tapped your shoulder, pulling your attention away as you jumped.

“Are you okay?” She asked as you looked back to your mom, only for her to have disappeared once again. You let out a shaky breath and plastered on a smile.

“Yeah. Everything’s great.” You lied as Clarke took the spot next to you, eying your leg and the bruises that had formed across your collarbone from the building.

She shook her head. “My mom shouldn’t have let you leave.”

“Yeah, didn’t really give her much of a choice.” Lexa caught your attention as Stg. Miller walked into the camp, a container of hydrazine in his hands. “Let’s go, Lexa wants us.” You stood up as you wavered. Clarke was on her feet, holding you up as her eyes widened.

“Y/N, you need to get checked out, if not for your blood loss then for your head. I think you have a concussion.” You ignored her concern as you moved towards Lexa. “You can’t do this.”

“You’re not in charge of me. You’re not my leader Clarke.” You snapped, spinning on your heel to face her. Clarke looked away from you, her jaw locking.

“I’m saying this as a friend Y/N.”

You scoffed and bit your lip. “Yeah, you aren’t much of that either.” Her eyes dropped to the floor. “You let a bomb drop on my head. And Octavia’s, your mom, Kane, Indra. You didn’t even try to save us.”

“That’s not true.” Her voice cracked as she held back a layer of tears. You looked at her, the face of a girl regretful of her choices as you took a seat again. Clarke felt hopeful as she joined you, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“I need to do this Clarke. I need to be a part of this fight.” You whispered. It felt like years before Clarke looked at you, her tears finally settled against her eyelids.

“Why?”

You took in a deep breath as you and Clarke stood up, moving towards Lexa’s tent. “I’m tired of being the reason why people die. I... I want to save someone.” Clarke understood completely. After everything, killing people was the last thing she wanted to do. But if that was how she was going to save her friends, then so be it.

You walked into the tent with Clarke, but you moved to stand on the other side of Lexa before Sgt. Miller entered. They gave Clarke the hydrazine, apologizing for Abby’s absence before Clarke said it was fine.

“The wounded in Tondc need her more.” She glanced at you which went unnoticed by all but you and Lexa. David walked away as the field commanders circled around the table in front of you.

“Today’s the day we get our people back.” Lexa announced, getting everyone’s attention. “The enemy thinks they are safe behind their door and they’re not. When realize that, they will fight back. Hard.”

Clarke looked down at the map of the mountain. “This is a rescue mission. We are not here to wipe them out. There are people inside that mountain that have helped us, children who have nothing to do with this war. We kill their soldiers, their leadership if we have to, but we are there to rescue our people. Is that clear?” Mumbles came from everyone as they agreed to Clarke’s conditions. “Good. Then let’s begin.” She explained the plan with the 4 groups, Raven and Wick go to the Dam, Indra and Octavia leading through the mines, Bellamy and the Grounders in Mount Weather, and Clarke, Lexa, and you by the front door. “According to Maya, the electromagnetic locking system has one flaw. When the power goes out, it disengages. That's where Raven's team comes in. The mountain's electricity is generated at Philpott Dam. By now, they've taken the turbine room.” Clarke told you all about Raven and Wick who were supposed to blow the power.

“There is a catch.”

Of course there was, you thought.

“A backup generator inside the mountain. If the lock is still functioning when that backup power kicks in, we'll never get that door open, we'll never get our people back.”

“How long do we have before Backup power kicks in?” You asked as you crossed your arms, stepping closer to the map.

Clarke sighed. “One minute. That’s the window.” You nodded slowly. You weren’t sure if this was going work. Even if everything went perfectly, one minute was a hard deadline. David agreed with your thoughts and suggested having Bellamy do it, but Clarke shook her head. “Leaving them without power that long would kill them. And besides, we lost contact with Bellamy.”

“What?” You glared at her, obviously not getting that memo. “When?”

“After he took out the fog.” She admitted and frowned, her head tilting apologetically. You scoffed, forgetting the other people in the room.

“You weren’t going to tell me?” You asked as Lexa grabbed your shoulder.

“Bellamy’s a warrior. He’ll be fine.” She tried to convince you as you stopped glaring at Clarke.

“He better be.” You muttered to yourself. Lexa heard you but made no indication as Clarke moved on and finished explaining the plan.

When she was done, Lexa stepped up, looking everyone in their eyes as she made her final speech. “The mountain has cast a shadow over these woods for too long. They've hunted us, controlled us, turned us into monsters. That ends today. Thanks to our alliance with the Sky People, the mountain will fall. As Clarke said, we spare the innocent. As for the guilty... Jus dren just daun.”

The grounders chanted the words over and over again and Clarke joined in, but you couldn’t. All you could think about was the possibility of Bellamy in Mount Weather and you no longer have contact with him. What if he was caught? What if he was already gone and you had no idea.

Losing this war was not an option.

You flickered your sights to the corner of the room, the sun filtered in through the rip of the tents as your breathing picked up and your mom stood there once again.

Why? Why was she always there?!

“Y/N?” Lincoln came up next to you, his hand landing on the small of your back but you didn’t look at him. “Y/N.”

“What?” You finally pulled your eyes away and looked at him. He narrowed his eyes and looked where you had been staring off but saw nothing.

“Bellamy will be fine.” He wasn’t sure what caused your worries but he assumed it involved Bellamy’s safety. “Come on. Let’s talk.” He lead you outside, away from the masses before you both sat against two trees, looking at each other.

Neither of you said anything as you sat in each other’s comfort, listening to the calls of the grounders around you. Your eyes were shut as you stared into the sky and Lincoln watched you closely.

“This is nice.” You told him as he nodded, looking up into the sky.

“It’s a good distraction. Gets you out of your head.”

“I could really use that.” You let out a quiet laugh as Lincoln furrowed his brow.

“What’s going on with you Y/N?” He asked as you groaned, falling onto the ground completely.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

Lincoln watched your actions, seeing the way you took deep breaths as he moved to lie next to you. “Well maybe if you let people in they would stop asking.”

You turned to look at him, your mouth down turned as you sigh. “You really want to know what’s going on in my head?” He nodded. You didn’t know what to say, was he serious? “Maybe some other time.” You whispered before looking up at the sky. Lincoln was disappointed you didn’t open up a little but he knew you heard him. He knew you’d let someone in, even if it wasn’t him. “Do you think we’re gonna win?” You asked him, peaking through one eye. Lincoln didn’t know how to answer you as he glanced over to Lexa, seeing her talking to Clarke before he sighed. “You don’t have to answer. It was a dumb question.”

“There’s no winning in war, Y/N.” You gave him a sad smile before standing up, wiping the dirt off your pants before looking down at Lincoln.

“Why do you have be so depressing, Lincoln?” You joked as the man chuckled, standing on his feet before the two of you walked back. “Thanks for the quick distraction. Now, let’s go open a door.”

It wasn’t that long afterwards where you were standing outside Mount Weather, watching Monroe drill holes into the door. The sound of the drilling stopped and made you look up, Monroe turning around in satisfaction. “That should do it. Bombs away.”

Sgt. Miller walked up to the door as Clarke told him to be careful and he nodded. You and Lincoln shared a look before following Miller’s father. He pulled out the container of Hydrazine, his hands shaking heavily as you placed yours over his, comforting him. “You can do this.” You told him as he looked up at you then to Lincoln.

“What if we’re too late?” He asked you as you felt a lump form in your throat at the similarity of your fears.

“What if we aren’t? Draw your strength from your son.”

David looked between the two of you and himself. All coming from different backgrounds, a Grounder, a Guard, and a prisoner, but all in the same place. “The mountain has taken too much from all of us, hasn’t it.” You felt Lincoln’s eyes on you as your hand trailed off David’s hand, letting him put the bomb in the hole.

You needed to wait for Raven and Wick before the bombs could go off, so you stood there staring at the door and playing with the handle of the sword on your hip as Clarke approached you for the second time that day.

“Think this will work?” She asked as you nodded slowly.

“Don’t really have any other choice, now do we?” You gave her a playful smile which she happily returned. “Clarke. About this morning, what I said? I don’t blame you for Tondc. I can’t imagine if you told us where we’d end up. Bellamy would’ve been caught and we’d be dead anyways. That’s not on you.”

Clarke didn’t know what to say, she was grateful you understood and wasn’t holding it over her head. “Thank you.” She said before glancing over at Lexa. You followed her gaze as Lexa walked up to the two of you.

“This is taking too long.” Clarke told her as Lexa stood in between the two of you, staring at the metal in front of you all. You let the two girls be as you moved to stand alone, needing to sort your thoughts out. You could’ve sworn you heard your name followed by come to Polis but you didn’t listen to their conversation. You wished things would hurry up, but your stomach dropped to the ground when gunshots came across the forest you turned to Clarke quickly. “It’s coming from the damn.”

“They know we’re going for the power.”

“They know we’re going for the door.” Lexa finished for her. You didn’t know what was going to happen next as Lincoln shouted something in Trig.

“As soon as those lights go off, you push that button.” David told Clarke, putting a hand on your shoulder to comfort you like you had for him.

Lincoln nodded, looking at the grounders around him before Clarke. “We’ll do the rest.”

The lights on the door went out and Clarke and you shared a look. “She did it.”

“One minute starting.” David said as you Lincoln tossed you a bow he had.

“It’s not yours-”

“But it will work.” You assured him with a smirk. Time kept ticking as the shield wall not 10 feet in front of you fell and David tried to run and trigger it manually. You knew he wasn’t going to make it and Clarke stopped him, telling him they will find a new way.

“There is no other way.” Lexa said as you looked past the rock you hid behind, Lincoln by your side as you both looked at the door.

“You don’t need one.” You said as you got Lincoln’s attention, pointing at the door with your bow as Lincoln nodded.

“10 seconds!” You both lit an arrow on fire and placed it in your bow. Clarke counted down from 5 as Lincoln and you aimed, taking one last breath before firing and hitting the bomb straight on.

It worked.

The door almost exploded as everyone paused, turning towards Lexa and Clarke for their next command.

“We need to get to the ridge and take out the shooters.” Lexa said as you nodded, grabbing some more arrows.

“I’m on it.”

“No!” She practically screamed, grabbing onto your arm. Her eyes bore into your as you crouched back down to her eye level. “You and Lincoln stay with Clarke. When the shooting stops, get that door open.” She commanded you. You were taken back by the fact she didn’t want you to go with her but non the less, you obliged. She took off, leaving you all there watching.

Lincoln was the first to move after Lexa left, moving from behind your cover as you shouted his name.

“Lexa did it.” He announced as you sighed in relief, letting him pull you off the ground. Sergeant Miller groaned under the scraps of metal as Clarke told everyone to make sure he’s okay before turning to you.

“They’ll be waiting just inside the door.”

“Good.” You mumbled before Lincoln led two lies towards the door and attached ropes. Everyone pulled, the door barely as you tapped your foot. “Come on.” You whispered eagerly, watching the men strain against the rope before the door finally inched open.

“Attack!”

Everyone cheered, about to fulfill her order before Lexa returned. She yelled for everyone to stand down as you loosened your stance, looking for her in the crowd.

She walked with Emerson. You and Clarke froze before you meeting her halfway.

“Lexa?” You eyed Emerson up and down but he remain unfazed. “What is this?”

The door pushed open more as you spun around. “Lexa?” You whispered as grounder after grounder came stumbling out of Mount Weather.

Just grounders.

“They’re surrendering?” Clarke asked as she came to your side, watching everyone before looking at Lexa.

Emerson just smirked. “Not quite.” Clarke didn’t get it but you did. Lexa cut a deal, her people and the grounders stop fighting.

“Please don’t do this.” Clarke pled as you stared at lexa, unable to form any words.

“I’m sorry Clarke.” She said and glanced to you but her eyes left almost as quickly.

“You didn’t tell me?” Lexa refused to look in your eyes as you took a step closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?” A grounder stepped between you and her as you glared at him, your fists clenched together and you could feel your shaking as you separated yourself from the man, your head dropping almost instantly.

“Commander, let us fight.” Lincoln stepped forward taking your place as you took a few steps back. Lexa declined Lincoln’s request before turning to you.

“All our people withdraw. Those are our terms.” She said but you didn’t move or say anything. Clarke’s mouth dropped open as

Lexa began walking, standing in front of you. “Choose Y/N.”

What were you supposed to do?

Follow Clarke? Save your friends and possibly get kicked out again? Or Follow Lexa? Join her at Polis where she promised you could join.

Your feet worked faster than your mind and you found yourself walking behind Lexa in the forest.

“Y/N!” Clarke called after you. “Bellamy’s in there. Jasper, Monty, Harper. You can’t just leave them.” Clarke yelled at you as you slowed down, barely turning to her before carrying on. Your mind was reeling as Lexa glanced at you and nodded, both of you moving forward before you were out of the Skypeople’s view.

You stared down at the ground as you walked, falling more and more behind as Lexa turned to look. She said your name, gaining your attention as you finally stopped.

“I can’t.” You whispered into the night air. She sent the rest of her people ahead a little before joining you. “I can’t leave them.”

“Them or him?” She asked as you sucked in a breath, avoiding her eyes. She knew what you were doing, she knew you needed to do this. “Hodnes laik kwelnes.” You gave her a sad smile before grabbing your sword off your hip and held it out to her.

“I know. But you’re right. I can’t leave him.” Lexa just stared at you, inhaling deeply as she looked down a your silver blade. The handle was shaking as you gripped it, waiting for Lexa to take it from you but she didn’t. Instead she gave a small smile and pushed the blade towards you. You were surprised but didn’t want her to see.

“We will meet again.” She told you as you nodded, your mouth opening slightly as you chuckled.

“Yes we will.” You took one last glance around the grounder before turning back to Mount Weather where Bellamy waited for a rescue.

Clarke had watched as you followed Lexa, turning to the door in hopes of finding another plan.

“Clarke! Let’s go, we’ll find reinforcements.” David called out to her as she remained planted to the ground.

“Clarke. Come on.” Clarke turned around, facing Monroe as she sighed. “It’s over.” She said before leaving Clarke. Clarke didn’t want to listen as she turned around.

“It can’t be over.” Clarke whispered to herself as she stared at the doors to Mount Weather. She didn’t know what to do to save her friends.

You came up behind her, hesitating before touching her shoulder to make her turn around. “It’s not over until we get our friends back.”

What did you think?

All Tags Open

***Reblogging with Banished Tags***

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @just4muggles @saturn-aka-six @nathaliabakes @whyamihere-bro @colored-confetti @wiseeggspickleslime @sadn0va @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @wellhellotherelovey @hollymac79 @delicately-important-trash

Bellamy: @jodiereedus22 @nyxxxwtp @danielabetancourth

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writingkeepsmewhole · 5 years ago

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I Do Not Know

This is part 13 of halfway I know it’s been forever since I posted anything for this but eh why not I was bored haha I know it’s crap and not that great but I need to rewatch the show and get a feel for everyone again but either way I hope you liked it tell me what you think please.

Fic Summary: Reader is faced with questions she can’t answer.

Bellamy Blake x Grounder Reader

Warnings:None

Taglits: @booknerdinator3000 @kingofpythons @dontstopxx @jodiereedus22 @littlegirl-fox

Part 1 Part 12

Bellamy decided to bring Lincoln back to the first ship the sky people came from. We were lucky he didn’t wake up on the way. It took all three of us to tie him up. Octavia quite the whole time.

“Can we save him?” She asks me once we are done.

“It’s never been done before. Once you become a reaper you never come back from it. We have tried this many times before and they always die.”

“Well we have to do something we can’t just let him die.”

“We need Clarke’s help.” Bellamy says his forehead wrinkles.

“Oh right like she’s gonna help us she’s never been a fan of him and you know it.” I say looking at him, shocked he would even suggest it.

“The moment she finds out I’m here she’ll report it back to her mother and I’ll be locked up again.

“That’s not going to happen, I won’t let it. Besides that it’s the only plan we got at this point so not unless you have a better one.” He says softly.

“No, go get her, I'll stay here.” Octavia says moving to climb back up the ladder.

“Will you stay with her?” Bellamy asks me once we are alone.

I nod not having any words to say to him. If he wasn’t going to listen to me I wasn’t going to waste time talking. I had other things to worry about. My closest friend was going to die and I couldn’t stop it.

“Hey.” Bellamy says touching my arm.

I look at him, his eyes looking black in the dim light.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“It won’t. Go.” I say looking at the door then moving to climb up the ladder.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Yes and I’ll be here.” I say us, both going our separate ways.

By the time Belamy returned Lincoln had woken up. He fought his restraints like a while animal.

When Clarke climbed the ladder he jumped out at her screaming.

“Don’t worry he’s tied up.” Bellamy says to her.

“I can’t believe we're back here again.” Clarke says in shock.

“Can you help him?” Octavia asks from sitting in the corner.

I stood close to Lincoln waiting for him to break free. I’ve seen it before with reapers.

“I don’t know.” Clarke says taking a step closer to Lincoln, it only makes him get wilder.

“I knew mount weather controlled the reapers.” She says shocking me with the knowledge

“The mountain men can control them?” I ask, wondering how anyone could control them.

There was no getting through to them, no since.

“Yes, but I didn’t know they were creating them.”

“If they can do that to Lincoln then what are they doing to our friends?” Bellamy says with his eyes meeting mine.

“Well you know what they are doing to my people. Outsiders don’t mean much to them.” I say as Lincoln screams louder, him jumping in my direction.

I take a step away from him, him pushing as hard as he can to reach any of us. I take a breath when I watch him start to twitch his head drawing towards his shoulder and chest.

“He’s convulsing.” Clarke says it almost sounds like a question.

“So what does that mean?”

“He’ll die.” I say honestly.

“He’s going to die.” Octavia says looking at me.

“Well he’s not going to live either. You can’t come back from this.”

“What happened to his leg?” Clarke asks as if neither of us were talking.

“I shot him.” Octavia says.

“Clarke he’s lost a lot of blood, can you do something?” Bellamy asks.

I sigh and shake my head as I feel my eyes prickle with tears. I look away from them, all of them and stare at the wall, not wanting to cry.

“Can you shine the light on his neck?” She asks about the flashlights Bellamy and Octavia were holding.

“Needle marks.”

“So you think he’s been drugged?” Bellamy asks.

I glance at Lincoln then at his chains. I stop when I see them bow out from the wall.

“Wait.” I say seeing Clarke trying to get closer.

Hearing a loud pop I quickly move between them. I gasped loudly as I felt Lincoln wrap his free arm around my neck and began to squeeze.

I start punching him hard in the ribs, him only making his grip tighter. My heart and head pounds from the lack of air, but I don’t care. I faintly hear someone yell the sounds becoming muffled by the sound of my blood rushing through my veins. I keep pulling back and hitting him over and over again my arms seem to grow heavy and move slower and slower. It doesn't take long before everything goes black.

I wake up feeling someone leaning over me. My last memories rushing back into my mind my heart jumps into fight mode. I don’t think, as I push myself from the floor and into the person over me. I wrap my hands around their throat ready to kill them before they kill me.

It’s not until my mind clears do I realize I’m choking Clarke, her scared eyes begging me to stop.

I quickly drop my hands and take a step back, us both breathing hard.

“Sorry.”

“What happened?” Bellamy asks, coming into the drop ship.

Us on the lower level.

“She tried to kill me.” Clarke says threw gasps pointing at me.

“I attacked her.”

“Why?” Bellamy asks shocked, by my confession.

“Instinct.” I say shrugging, not knowing how else to say it.

“I was checking on her and she choked me.”

“Well she was under attack last time she was awake.”

“Why do you always defend her?” Clarke says sounding hurt, her moving to walk past him and outside.

“She’s right.” I say looking at him.

“You shouldn’t defend me, I’m the enemy, remember.”

“Well you don’t act like it. Come on let's go check on Lincoln.”

“He’s still alive?” I ask us to move towards the ladder.

“Yeah, Clarke has been keeping him that way for now.”

I nod at him following him up the ladder.

He was right Lincoln was alive. I was surprised to see him asleep.

“What happened?”

“He died. Clarke gave him CPR.”

“CPR?” I ask looking at him not knowing what that meant.

“She got his heart pumping again.”

“How?”

Bellamy smiles softly, seeming amused with my lack of understanding. Walking up to me he gently grabs my hand and places it on his chest.

“By pushing in his chest like this.” He says placing his hand over mine and roughly doing what he just said.

“It pumps his heart making it start again.”

“She is a healer.” I state looking up at him, his dark eyes meeting mine.

“Yes.”

“I should probably stop attacking her then.”

“That would be nice.” He says smiling.

I smile back as a silence settles over us. The only sound is our breathing. With my hand still placed over his heart I can feel it speed up as his eyes travel down to my lips.

I’m confused when my face heats up. Things like this never seem to affect me. But I kept finding myself affected by Bellamy in one way or another.

As if we were the same mind we both take a step closer to each other. I tighten my grip on his chest grabbing a handful of his shirt. He moves his hand from mine, running up my arm sending a warm tingle in its wake.

I take a slow breath as he leans down, blocking my view so all I see is him. It’s my heart that starts to speed up when our faces are only a few inches apart.

“Umm am I interrupting something?” Octavia asks, making Bellamy pull away from me. Him clearly his throat and scratching the back of his head. His face flushed.

Sighing I let my hand fall from him and turn to face her. I have to resit the urge to roll my eyes seeing Clarke standing behind her. Her glaring daggers at me.

“Nothing that can’t be done later.” I say earning a weird look from all of them.

“Do you always have to talk so plainly?” Clarke says crossing her arms.

“Yes, it saves time not having to explain myself.” I say smiling at her.

She glares at me which I ignore

“Did you have something to say to you, are you just here to annoy the both of us?” I ask her bluntly.

I felt like at this point I had been as nice to her as I could be and got even more hated for it.

“They are here.” She says not needing to explain who, Abby coming in the door behind her.

“Y/n glad to see you haven’t betrayed us.” She says looking at me.

“You haven’t done anything for me to betray you.” I say arching his eyebrow at me.

I shrug and follow them up the ladder having a good guess as to why they were here. I was surprised to see Nyko standing over Lincoln.

He was now restrained to the floor.

“Is he okay?” Octavia asks, dropping down beside him.

“I promised you I wouldn’t hurt him.”

“What happened while I was out?” I ask turning to look at Bellamy.

“Octavia went and got Nyko to heal Lincoln but he was only going to kill him.”

“Because you can’t save a reaper.”

“But I did.” Clarke says making me a bit annoyed with her joining our conversation.

“Look at him, he is alive because of me.”

“And we are going to keep him that way.” Abby says, dropping next to him.

“We can cure the reapers, it's just about keeping them alive while they detox. With this we can make a deal with the grounders.”

I snort and shake my head.

“What?” She asks, glaring at me.

“You still call us grounders, you don’t bother learning anything about us but you want to make deals with us? You're more pig headed then I thought.”

“Alright that’s enough.” Bellamy says making us both look at him.

“Y/N go take a walk.”

“I didn’t-.”

“Just go.” He says making my heart drop.

I clenched my jaw at him and the way my body reacted.

“Fine, I’ll go hunting.” I say moving away from them and back down the ladder.

I leave the drop ship, my anger getting stirred up. It was foolish I new that but I didn’t like when he picked Clarke over me.

I walked through the forest not really looking for anything to hunt. I really did need to take a walk to think. I was starting to feel like I didn’t know what side I was on.

But I always felt that way I was always never enough. Never belonging to a clan and it made me who I was.

Now I wasn’t so sure. I cared for Bellamy and Octavia. I even enjoyed Raven but the rest of the sky people could burn for all I cared. But what about my people? What people? I had Lincoln nothing more.

I was alone and I was growing too attached to someone who seemed to care for me as well or at least like me enough to want me around.

But that person always seemed to pick someone else over me. Well maybe not always he does defend me from time to time. But Clarke is his leader. A selfish one but a leader nonetheless.

So what should I do? Return to my cave? Back to the wild where I belong or do a I go join the sky people and learn about all their strange ways. I was caught between a rock and a hard place and I couldn’t stand it.

“How’s the hunting going?” Asked a voice cutting through my thoughts.

I look down from my perch in a tree just within hear shot of their camp. Bellamy stood below me, gun in hand but he was relaxed.

“It’s not. Come join me.” I ask but it sounds more like a demand.

“I don’t think I can climb this tree.” He says looking it over not seeing the foot and hand holds I do.

Sighing I start to climb down but stop seeing him put his gun on his back.

It takes almost too long but he finds his way up and next to me.

“Wow you can see everything up here.” He says looking around smiling.

“It’s why I climbed it. I needed to think.” I say earning his attention.

“Think about what?”

“What I’m doing with my life. Who’s side I belong to?”

“Why does there have to be sides?”

“Bellamy we both know you don’t believe that I remember the speeches you have given since your time here you don’t like my people the same as I don’t like yours.”

“You don’t like people?”

“Some I like some.” I say earning a smile.

“I don’t like all of them either. Something tells me you are talking about one person more than everyone.”

“We all know me and Clarke don’t like or trust each other.”

“Why?”

“Because trust is earned not given. I have tried to show her who I am and it’s not what she wants.”

“Well what do you want?”

Sighing I look up at the sky or at least the small pieces you can see through the leaves.

“I do not know.”

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restrainedubiquity · 5 years ago

Text

It Wasn’t Supposed To Be Like This

AO3 Link

It takes 5 days before her leg has healed enough that Jackson allows her out of the infirmary. If she was any other patient they both would have insisted on a few more days, but Jackson knew Abby and Abby knew herself and they both were well aware that even these 5 days of bed rest were an unprecedented feat for her to achieve.

Her crutches click down the hall as she makes her way to the showers. Clean. It’s the only thing she’s let herself focus on for the last few days. Her staff had done their best to clean the dried blood and mud from her face and limbs, but there was only so much to be done with a damp rag and their desire to protect her modesty. She didn’t mind. The tightness in her skin from dried sweat and tears, the itch on her hip from a healing scrape, the need to pick the dirt from under her fingernails. They were beautiful distractions for the horrors she wasn’t yet ready to face.

But now the days of built up grime feels like a prison. She heads straight for the showers, not bothering to remove her clothes or set aside her crutches before releasing the water. It’s an ice cold flood that takes her breath away. They’d managed to get water from the river to the pipes of Arcadia, but heating it had been an obstacle no one had time to consider tackling. In seconds her lips were blue and she was shaking violently under the onslaught, but Abby didn’t move. There was a calm in the icy current. Her mind quiet except for the single thought of “cold.” So she stayed until her clothes were completely soaked through, until the water from the tangled mess of her hair ran clear, until an arm wrapped around her waist jerking her back from the spray and another slammed into the valve stopping the water’s flow.

Kane didn’t say anything as he scooped her up and headed down the hall leaving a dripping trail of water to mark his path. He didn’t say anything as he deposited her unceremoniously onto the edge of their desk and pulled her soaked shirt over her head, pealed her pants from her hips. He didn’t say anything as he wrapped her in the blanket she kept on the couch and then his jacket. Or when he twisted her hair back into something resembling a coiled serpent to keep the cold from creeping back in.

She opens her mouth when he scoops her up again, this trip only a few feet before she’s set softly on the couch. A thousand words simmer on the tip of her tongue as he pulls off his own soaked shirt: How dare you! And I’m fine! And Leave! And Stay and Thank you and Help me. She closes them inside and pulls her knees up to her chin as he tucks her into his side and wraps his arms tightly around her.

She doesn’t know why the words won’t come, but he doesn’t seem to mind the silence as he runs his hands up and down her back and arms. It doesn't’ take long before the numbness is replaced with a chill that causes her body to tremble against him. He only holds her closer, hands rubbing up and down her body easing away the goosebumps and the panic that lives just below the surface of her no-nonsense exterior.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she says after minutes have ticked by and her body temperature returns to something tolerable. The sound of her voice surprises her as much as it does him. He doesn’t respond in words, but squeezes her arm assuring her that he’s still there, that he’s listening. After another bout of silence, she continues. Quietly leading him down the path her thoughts are traveling, “Do you remember when we were kids and we’d play Earth?” she doesn’t need him to respond. She remembers those days fondly though they seem like the memories of another woman. That childlike innocence couldn’t belong to her anymore.

“You always wanted to climb the trees,” Marcus muses, his breath warm against the top of her head. They were thick as thieves in those days, her, Jake, Thelonious and himself. Top of their class, best of their generation. He remembers the simplicity or those times. Before they realized that their life would be spent trapped, before he saddled himself with the burden of impossible rules and order, before she had to fight for a way of life that preserved some semblance of what it meant to live.

“You and Jake always wanted to go surfing in the ocean.” Marcus hears the smile though her face is tucked under his chin.

“I could never imagine that much water,” he relaxes a bit more into the back of the couch, a smile twitching at his own lips at the memory. “Looking down on it from space just isn’t the same. You can’t picture the endlessness of it.”

“Instead of beaches we got…” her voice trails off as she gestures aimlessly into the air in front of her.

“I know,” the mood sobers instantly as they are brought back to the nightmares that have met them on the ground. He’s not ready to linger there. They’ll talk about it, all of it, but not yet. “When we first climbed out of that hatch and saw this place I half expected you to run for the nearest tree.”

“I thought about it,” she laughs in earnest and forces herself not to think about how long it's been since she’s heard her own laughter. Instead she remembers, takes her thoughts back to that first miraculous moment of sun and sky and mountains and trees. The urge to run towards everything had been overwhelming. She wondered what the bark would feel like under her hands, how the air would smell surrounded by water and trees instead of oxygen recyclers. She wanted to know how high she could get and how far she could see. She wanted the freedom she used to dream about as a child. She wanted a chance at the future promised to her grandchildren. “I had to get to Clarke,” her voice breaks at the mention of the name.

Marcus tenses underneath her and now it’s her arms that are wrapping around his middle, holding him as she awkwardly shifts in her cocoon of covers until her legs are draped over his and her cheek rests against his shoulder. He’d been the one to tell her that Clarke had left, and the one to tell her each day after that she hadn’t been found. She’d called him things he hadn’t deserved, hit him with fists that barely held the strength to come together. He didn’t deserve it, but like he always had, Marcus took her rage and pain and locked it away for her.

“I’m sorry,” Abby strokes the scruff along his jaw, pulls his face to her so she knows he’s paying attention. “I’m sorry, Marcus. You didn’t deserve the way I acted. You’ve done nothing but...everything. You’ve done everything.”

“We’ve developed quite the knack for taking care of each other,” his forehead drops to hers and for a time they just stay like that. Locked in a gaze and exchanging promises that don’t need to be said out loud. “It’s going to get better,” he tells her sincerely. He needs to believe it to be true. He needs her to believe it as well. Those people they were on the Ark, those enemies of circumstance who were always forced to opposite corners have been long forgotten. He wants to be those wide-eyed children with her again. For their new life here to be the adventure they’d imagined, the second chance they’d earned. “She’ll come home when she’s ready,” his fingers twist around a curl drying near her ear. “We’re going to make a life here.”

She wants nothing more than to believe him, but the throbbing in her leg is pressing in on the bubble he’s built around them. Before she can think the words they tumble out of her mouth uncertain and hopeless, “What if we don’t know how? What if the things we’ve done to preserve humanity took away our right to be human, to be happy? What if this never ends?”

Her words wash over him like the frigid spray he pulled her from. It breaks a part of him to hear the uncertainty from her. He’s never thought that. Not once. And the reason has been the woman at his side. “You once told me that your job was making sure our people deserved to survive. You’ve done that Abby. That and more. But I need you to keep doing it, keep us in check, keep me from turning back into that man you hated.”

“I never hated you. I tried. Several times,” her hand drops to his chest and she feels the soft laughter there, “but it never worked. You hated yourself for what you had to do more than anyone else, especially me, could have. You’re a good man, Marcus. You always have been.”

His hand moves to cover hers, holds it against his heart. After what he’s taken from her, to hear her say that is a forgiveness he never expected to be granted. “Thank you for that.”

“Thank you for this,” she snuggles down against him, settling in and not giving him the option of leaving her alone any time soon. The panic is still there. The pain, the flashes of too bright lights and the sound of the drill. She’s not ready to deal with those memories yet. After she finds her daughter, after they’re sure their people can be safe here, after she sorts out why Marcus Kane is the one she’s clinging to right now, maybe she’ll let herself crack. Crack. Not break. They didn’t break her.

“We’re going to get this right, Abby.” He’s certain. In this moment there’s clarity. He simply knows that this--the fragile peace with the Grounders, the reunion of their people, him and her side by side through all of it--is what it is meant to be. That it is, in fact, supposed to be like this.

“Yes,” her voice is once again that of the woman who saves them, who fights, who survives. “We are.” For this moment, in the dark, quiet safety of his arms, she promises herself to fight for the future they deserve.

#kabby #kabby fanfiction #marcus kane #abby griffin #its been forever since i played with these two

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kloxbian · 5 years ago

Text

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.

#clexaweek2020 #clexaweek2020 day 1 #Day 1 Forbidden Love #Forbidden Love #clexa fanfic #clexa deserved better

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