#its not their fault it was co-opted and its unreasonable to ask that they stop using something thats been used for centries

[angle0fthegourd]

Respectfully, your point of "... hateful people have weaponized it successfully enough and broadly enough that there are now MORE people using it hatefully than the number of Palestinians who even exist in the world. There are not many Jews or Palestinians left in the world at all right now," just seems blatantly false considering the amount of large scale protests we've seen around the world for Palestine. I think it's, at worst, hard to make a definitive call as to who there's more of or, at best, there's more people using "From the river to the sea..." as a hopeful rallying cry than there are using it hatefully.

I don't think jews have the right to try and censor Palestinian resistance, and, in my opinion, that includes not censoring non-Palestinians echoing their rallying cries. Saying FtRttS as a non Palestinian is an act of validation and support that I've seen many Palestinians say they appreciate. That is enough to warrant its use to me. FtRttS is no different than Land Back, and if people using it bothers you, I think that's something you need to deal with yourself. Learn to hold space for the idea that it can be both something that's been used to hurt and threaten you, and thus makes you uncomfortable, and that its current widescale surge is being done mostly in good faith to rally around the Palestinan people.

just got a second official warning for my use of "from the river to the sea, palestine will be free" on the OTW volunteer slack

people are also currently asking board to ban saying that the founding of israel was colonialism—equating this to saying racial slurs—and were complaining about my status back when it was "palestine will be free", too

suffice to say, fuck that place, don't give the OTW your money, and don't fucking volunteer there

(the second screenshot is from the warning I got a few days ago)

[queen-swagzilla]

Ruthlessly Alive - Chapter 10

Rated: M

Summary: Everything is going wrong. Clarke is at her wits end and so is her co-leader, Nathan Miller. The two of them and their mini-council—Wells, Raven, Finn, Monty, Jasper, and Syl—keep trying to find solutions, but nothing is helping them stay alive. When the dropship carrying her mother crashes, they come to a decision. They have to surrender, and ask for help.It just so happens that the price for help is Unity. But it means something much different on the ground than on the Ark.

Chapter summary: Raven's got some misplaced anger. Bellamy's got a stab wound. Clarke's got paper and charcoal. Syl's got grounder braids. Miller has very little patience for bullshit.

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Bellamy remained under Clarke and Diggs' watchful eyes for two days. After he’d woken up, Irene had pulled Clarke aside and tied the red ribbon around her wrist.

“But I didn’t finish the ritual.” Clarke objected.

“Didn’t you?” She asked. “At the very least, you’ve proven that you have the ability to care for him. The rest of your people, however, I am beginning to distrust.”

Clarke looked away. She couldn’t exactly fault her for that. She had trouble imagining Finn poisoning a knife, especially since peace was a real possibility. Unfortunately, she didn’t really see who else it could be.

They’d searched the Art Supply Store, to no avail. It was devoid of any poisons or suspicious substances. Finn had come back the next day saying he’d gone exploring, and they’d no reason to hold him prisoner except for their collective suspicion. That simply wasn’t enough.

“Raven?” Clarke had asked, flanked by Miller and Syl. Raven narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t exactly pleased that Finn had been detained upon his return. It felt too much like the first time he’d been arrested. “I need a favor.”

“Yes, your majesty?”

Clarke winced but plowed forward. “Look, I’m not sure if Finn did anything. I can’t find anything to indicate that he did, but he’s the most vocal opponent to the terms of our alliance. We need this, and you know it. I need you to keep an eye on him and tell someone—not necessarily me—if he starts to act suspiciously. If it was him and he does it again, he won’t just be imprisoned, he’ll get all of us killed.”

It left a bitter taste in Raven’s mouth to know that Clarke was right. That she was just doing her best with the information she had. Why couldn’t she be wrong and unreasonable so that Raven could resent her for just a minute? “Fine. Is that all?”

Clarke looked saddened (and it killed Raven that it bothered her) but nodded and turned, leaving the tent with Syl in tow. Miller stayed behind. “She is going to be queen, you know. That means making tough decisions and giving orders that we'll have to follow.”

“Do you have a point?”

“You can’t hold it against her like that. She hates the idea already. She doesn’t want any of this to be happening, and you know it. Sure, she’s pretty into her fiancé, but the idea of being queen gets to her. Don’t make it worse by throwing it in her face when she makes a decision you don’t like. We’re under a monarchy now. There are always going to be decisions we don’t like. What matters is that we trust our leaders to ultimately make a decision that benefits us, and that’s all she’s been doing since we landed. She made the right call, and you know it.”

Raven glared at Miller. “My relationship with Clarke is none of your business. I agreed to watch him, didn’t I?”

“That’s not the point, and you know it.” He snapped. “She needs you, Raven. Stop taking your frustration out on her and refocus it on the person who actually deserves it.”

He didn’t wait for her to reply, pushing out of the tent to go looking for Clarke. Raven tamped down the urge to go after him and blow up in his face. Because god damn it, he had a point. Unfortunately, she didn’t really have the time to sit and think. Today was the day they’d begin taking the Dropship to scrap.

Without power tools.

Anyone who wasn’t working with Raven and Monty on the Dropship or in Medical with Clarke fixing their inevitable injuries was directed to Octavia and Lincoln for training. Syl had found herself directly under Octavia’s thumb, struggling through seemingly endless pushups.

While everyone seemed to be occupied, Murphy stood guard over Bellamy in his tent. He’d complained for hours when both Clarke and Diggs had insisted he remain on bed rest and outright whined when Octavia had demanded that he be guarded until he was up and about. Now, though, he found himself grateful for the quiet. A drawback of being King was that he was constantly swarmed—truly quiet moments were few and far between.

“Have you sent word to the Commander yet?” Murphy asked.

Bellamy shot him an annoyed look. “Of course I have.” He grunted.

“Has she said anything back? She could refuse to acknowledge it, couldn’t she? Turn us out of the coalition?”

Bellamy grimaced. “She could, but she won’t. She’d risk losing her hold on Trigedakru.” He replied, wincing. “Turning us out means putting them at risk of fighting a war on our border for territory. Sure, the rest of the coalition could come to their aid, but Azgeda would opt to sit it out. Emboldened by Azgeda’s refusal, the rest would refuse to put their warriors at risk for a border dispute, and the coalition would unravel. She won’t risk that.”

Murphy eyed him thoughtfully. “How long have you had that figured out?”

“Since Sterling first told us about their situation.” He admitted. “I knew this was a possibility. I wasn’t going to take this on without considering the risks.”

Murphy smiled wryly. “Yet you had no qualms about letting a stranger stab and poison you. Look where that got you.”

“I was in good hands.” He defended both himself and Clarke. “It could have been much worse.”

“Yes, it’s a good thing she likes you.” Murphy teased. “Or she’d have let you die.” There was a note of caution in Murphy’s voice. Bellamy frowned at him.

“Not with her people at risk, and definitely not with you and Octavia watching over her shoulder.”

Murphy raised an eyebrow. “If she thought it was right, Clarke would slit your throat without even blinking. Apparently she was seen doing the same for one of her people caught in the Fog.”

“Then it would have been out of mercy.”

“You think that calculated ability to kill doesn’t extend to her sense of justice? To her need to protect her people? Don’t be naive, Bellamy. She’s a good person, but you can smell it on her. The moment she needs to be, she’ll be ruthless. You had better hope that she’ll be on your side when that day comes, too.”

Bellamy barely even blinked. “She will be. I won’t give her a reason not to be. You know I don’t do things by halves, Murph. Her people and my people will be the same.”

“And what are you going to do when they discover who actually poisoned you?” He demanded.

Bellamy paused. His instinct, of course, was to have them executed. Not only for treason but also for violating a sacred rite and the grounds of a peace treaty. That, however, would not be in her people’s best interest. There were so few of them, and she’d feel each loss keenly. “I would leave their punishment to her.” He decided. “Our treaty is still in its fledgling stages, and they aren’t required to follow our laws. It’s encouraged, but they’re still separate. Until they officially join Trishanakru, we’ll allow them to govern themselves.”

“They poisoned you. The offense was against you, so your laws should govern the punishment.”

“Not if we want them to trust us.”

“They won’t trust us if you allow them to flout our laws without punishment. They’ll just do it again. There has to be some form of punishment from us. Maybe you can negotiate the punishment with Clarke and her advisors. Find a punishment that you’ll both deliver.”

Bellamy had to admit, that did sound better. “I can do that.” He agreed. He laid back docilely, and Murphy regarded him with a healthy amount of suspicion.

“That felt too easy.”

“Maybe you’re paranoid.”

Murphy snorted. “Yeah, maybe."

Things seemed to settle into a busy but peaceful rhythm. For three whole days, they took the Dropship apart, got drilled by Octavia and Lincoln, and started workshopping ideas with Wells, Monty, and Syl. Bellamy was recovering under Diggs’ (and sometimes Clarke’s) watch, and Clarke had taken over all diplomatic duties with Murphy whispering instructions in her ear at Bellamy’s request. So far, they had been visited by a representative from Yujledakru and Louwoda Kliron Kru, who were both staying in camps just outside the gate. She’d accepted their gifts—tokens to celebrate their impending marriage—and fed them. Then, she’d introduced them to the camp’s leaders and asked if they had concerns.

So far, the trust she seemed to have fostered in Bellamy, Octavia, and Murphy was enough to keep them calm. She was immensely grateful for that.

Syl seemed to be taking to Grounder culture like gas to a fire. Someone had clearly been teaching her the language because even with Murphy translating, she seemed to be getting the gist of each conversation.

Someone had done her hair, too. Every morning, Syl arrived at their status meeting with intricate braids that pulled her hair back from her face to unveil her sharp cheekbones and glittering black eyes. Clarke was a little jealous.

Raven, on the other hand, seemed to be shrinking from it. On that end, Clarke was concerned. At first, Raven had been more than ready to learn and grow into Grounder culture, but since the ritual, her enthusiasm seemed to have petered off. Not to mention, she was sour at Clarke, furious that she’d implicated Finn without hard evidence.

“What’s eating you, Princess?” Syl asked, sliding up to Clarke with Miller in tow.

“Nothing.”

Miller rolled his eyes. “So you’re glaring at Mbege for no reason?”

She realized that she had, indeed, been glaring at Mbege, who now looked extremely skittish—eyes darting from the task before him to Clarke and back in rapid succession. She offered him a sheepish smile and he seemed to deflate with relief. “Oops.”

“So? What’s the matter?” Syl prodded. She was fiddling with something—a bullet, Clarke realized—as she spoke.

“I’m so jammed up with meeting people and being a good host that I’m not learning anything.” She muttered. “I want to learn the language, you know? I just don’t really have the time.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to learn the language after all this diplomatic crap is over.” Miller replied soothingly.

“I know.” She sighed. “It just feels like everything is moving so fast. We only have three weeks left to get everything ready, and finish the courtship rituals. I haven’t even had time to get started on my gift for Bellamy.”

Syl gave her a once over. “Well, what are you doing right now?”

“Right now?” Clarke asked, frowning. “Nothing. Basically just waiting for someone to hurt themselves.”

“Well,” she drawled. “Why don’t you get started on it now?” Clarke flushed. Octavia had gotten her paper and charcoal the same day she’d asked for it, and Lincoln had offered to show her how to bind a book when she was ready.

“I can do that.” She admitted. Syl chuckled, taking her by the arm and guiding her back to her tent, Miller trailing behind him.

“You need to stop waiting for bad things to happen. Trust me, if they’re happening, they’ll find you. You gotta live in the meantime.” Syl insisted. Miller grunted his agreement. “We’re at peace. Your only duties right now are diplomacy and medical. If you’re not being sought out, you can take time to make your extra-special engagement gift, or train, or learn the language.”

“I need to make sure—“

“Then we’ll give you status reports, Clarke.” Miller interrupted her, successfully predicting her train of thought. “Syl’s right. You don’t need to be everywhere at once. Focus on what you need to get done or want to learn. Whatever. We’ll step up. I am your co-leader, remember? At least for the time being, I can keep the ship running while you plan out your engagement and wedding crap. And hey, learning the language is important for diplomacy right? You have a good reason to makethat a priority. You can get Grounder Jr. here to help you out.”

Clarke blinked at him. It might have been the most Miller had said at one time in ten years. “Are…you frustrated with me?” She demanded. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure one of the conditions for me being okay with this alliance was that you’d take care of yourself. Trying to manage everything in camp and your own marriage is not taking care of yourself, it’s burning yourself out.” He scolded. She never thought she’d see the day when Miller scolded her.

“I’m just trying to make sure this goes smoothly! Survival is the very foundation of my self-care!”

“No, Clarkey. You’re trying to micromanage a hundred juvenile delinquents even though your survival is guaranteed as long as you stick to the terms of the alliance. And you have at least six people who are willing to lend you a hand.” Syl reminded her, a little exasperated but mostly amused. “I promise we’ll come to get you if there’s an emergency, but we’re more than capable of handling the nitty-gritty. That’s what we’re here for.”

“Yeah, didn’t you say we were your advisors or something? Isn’t that what our literal jobs are now?” Miller grunted. “Your job is to keep it together and lead us. Our job is to help you do that. Let us help you and take a fucking chill pill, Griffin."

They were in Clarke’s tent now and away from prying eyes, she allowed herself overflow a little. The affection and gratitude she felt couldn’t really be contained, but she doubted Miller would forgive her for going soft on him in public. So here, in the tent, she threw her arms around his neck in a nearly vicious hug.

“You guys are adorable.” Clarke dropped Miller immediately and whirled to face whoever had just entered the tent. It was just Wells and Monty (it was Wells who’d spoken, but Monty was snickering), but Miller flushed anyways.

“Did something happen?” Clarke asked, immediately on alert despite the conversation they’d just had. Syl flicked her on the forehead.

Wells eyed them oddly, noting the disciplinary action but taking it in stride. “No. We just wanted to let you know that the Dropship interior is completely stripped. We’re going to work on cataloging and packing it before we start working on the actual structure.”

“We got together with Octavia and agreed that the core group of scientists should hold off on training until the dropship is done. That way they’ll have the energy to actually do the work.” Monty added.

“The hunting party is back, too. They’ve got three deer and pulled in a bunch of rabbits and squirrels from snares. They think it’s a good idea to dry and store two of the deer and use the rest fresh over the next couple of days. They wanted your opinion, though. Well, they wanted Murphy’s opinion, but they’re kinda afraid of him, so they want Syl to ask him.”

Miller gave her a smug smirk, and she rolled her eyes. “See?”

“Fine. Okay? Fine! You were right. I’ll ‘chill out’.”

Syl snorted. “Yeah, unlikely. Just…don't preemptively panic. Do what you gotta do, and trust us to keep you in the loop. We’ve got this, Princess.”

They left Clarke in the tent, pulling out the piles of paper and charcoal she’d been given along with the copy of the Iliad that Octavia had gotten for her. She assumed it was Bellamy’s copy, so she handled it like it was made of glass.

Before she knew it, she was completely lost in her task��relaxing into the lines and shading as she brought the ancient story back to life. The last time she’d had uninterrupted time to draw was when she was in the Sky Box, and it was relaxing then, too. It took her mind off the endless vacuum of space. Here, it took her mind all of the things that could go wrong, and she was grateful for the time to decompress.

Soon, her hands were covered in coal and her body was completely unclenched. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, just that she had a tidy stack of perfect drawings and it was getting dark inside the tent. “Clarke? You coming for dinner?” Jasper poked his head through the tent flap. “Syl wanted to get you for lunch, but Miller and Wells didn’t want to break your stride if you actually managed to chill out enough to stay put.”

She blinked up at him, only now realizing how late it was and how long she’d been sitting in one place. “I’ve been in here all day. I’ve been in here all day?! I need to check on Bellamy! Were there any injuries in camp?”

“Hey! Hey, relax. You can check on Bellamy after dinner. He’s been sleeping all day, and Diggs has been taking care of him, along with all the other minor scrapes that have come in. We need to learn to trust them, right? It’s good that we’ve been having our people go to him. It’s actually kinda important.” Jasper reminded her, alarmed at how quickly she’d panicked. “We didn’t just let you have the day. If we’d needed you, we’d have gotten you.”

“Right. Right, sorry. I’m just…”

“Not used to being fine? I know the feeling. Spear, remember?” He chuckled. “C’mon. Come have dinner with us then go check on your boooooyyyfriend.” He teased. She threw the charcoal stub at him, and it smacked him in the cheek.

“You’re terrible.” She muttered. “I’ll join you in a minute, I just need to go wash my hands.”

“Roger that, boss. We’ll save you some stew.” He grinned, saluting her jauntily.

As she walked through the camp, she was pleased with how little disarray there was. If she’d left camp for a whole day when they’d first landed, there would be broken fingers and collapsed structures in every direction. Now there were some murmurs as friends prodded each other’s blisters or scrapes, but it looked like everything was running smoothly.

Probably because they had a collective goal with a big fat scary deadline.

But hey, no matter the reason, as long as no one was dying or pissing off Grounder diplomats, she wasn’t going to complain.

Miller and Wells had come to him that morning to tell him that Clarke would be out of medical on other projects all day, and he couldn’t lie—he was disappointed. If he was bedridden, he was at least hoping for company other than Murphy (who hated talking, even to people he liked) and Diggs (who always had some gross new observation about the human body to share).

There were a few other delinquents who stopped by for their own cuts and bruises, and they talked while Diggs patched them up. He was quite fond of Harper, who talked his ear off about how limited his appreciation for classic literature was if he was stuck in ancient Greek epics. “Maybe someday,” she said wistfully. “We’ll find a way to reconnect to the Ark mainframe and be able to download the library.” He quite liked the sound of that.

Miller came to keep him company for a while and asked about politics and war on the ground. He seemed pleased that Bellamy was fascinated by history and therefore could give detailed accounts of the clan wars that had taken place before the coalition, as well as the skirmishes that had taken place since.

Other than that, he’d been bored. His philosophy had always been “if there’s nothing to do today, sleep while you have the time”, so he’d essentially napped his way through the entire day and felt lethargic as hell when he woke.

Murphy shoved a bowl at him when he opened his eyes. “Eat.” He grunted.

“Everything going alright out there?” He asked as he complied.

“Everything’s fine.” Murphy dismissed him. “Actually, without you and Clarke breathing down our necks, I think this has been their most productive day yet.” He continued, unsheathing his knife to clean under his fingernails.

“I heard that.” Clarke declared, sliding into the dropship with her hands on her hips. “And that is yet to be determined. I’m getting status reports after I check on Bellamy.” She paused. “Wow. They really did strip it bare.”

Anything that they didn’t need for immediate medical procedures had been disassembled and stacked in a corner—seating and seatbelts, wiring, and the video components had all been scrapped.

“I think we were both hoping it would take longer so that Bellamy would have someone to talk to all day.” Murphy drawled.

Clarke frowned. “Weren’t you here all day?”

Bellamy snorted. “Yes, ten hours with the surliest bastard south of Azgeda.” He shot Murphy a fond smile. “I slept most of the day.”

She chuckled. “Well, I hope it was restful.” She was leaning over him now, unwinding his bandage to examine his stab wound. She was pleased that it wasn’t infected and already seemed to be knitting together. “How are you feeling?

“Hmm. Like I was poisoned by someone other than my wife and put on bed rest.” He replied. “But better than I felt during the ceremony. I’ll feel better once I can get up and move.”

“Well, I’d feel more comfortable if you relaxed for a couple more days, but we treated you quickly and you do seem okay aside from the stab wound. Just don’t push it. Besides, we don’t know who poisoned the knife, so even if you’re not on bed rest I’d feel better if you had Murphy or Octavia with you.”

He groaned.

“See? Clarke agrees with us. Now you have to listen.” Murphy cried. “He doesn’t think he needs protection once he’s healed enough to move around.”

She frowned at him. “I know you’re an impressive fighter, but there’s no harm in having a second set of eyes. You’re being targeted. There’s no need to tempt fate. Besides, you’re a king. What would happen to your people if you just let yourself get assassinated?” She prodded him in the chest. “Be responsible, Bellamy.”

“Our people have a line of succession. We’d prefer not to use it, but still. It's your people you should worry about. There’s no guarantee a new alliance could be reached if Bellamy died.” Murphy reminded her.

She glared at him. “Yes, obviously, I know that. I just figured that was obvious. It’s obvious, right? We’re screwed without you. Besides, I’m getting pretty attached to you. I’d be very upset if you died because you decided to throw logic out the window."

He grumbled, but his pout told her that she’d won the argument. Sensing that Bellamy’s sulking wasn’t going to be short-lived, Murphy decided to sweeten the pot. “Maybe if you spent…half the day in here tomorrow keeping him company, he’d be a little more ready to follow your instructions.” He suggested.

Clarke couldn’t find anything wrong with that plan, so she agreed. “Maybe while we’re in here you can teach me some Trigedasleng.” She smiled, sitting by the cot and taking his hand. “Syl’s a natural. I need to keep up or she’ll never let me live it down.”

“Miller and Wells are, too.” Murphy supplied, unhelpfully. “They just don’t talk as much, so you haven’t noticed.”

“See?” She whined, tugging his fingers petulantly. “They’ll tease me forever if I don’t learn faster.”

He smiled at her mischievously. “Can’t say I blame them. I have a feeling I’ll have fun riling you up in the future.”

“Only if there is a future.” She scolded. “So for the love of God, please don’t get murdered.”

“Alright, princess.” He chuckled. “I’ll be careful.”

Raven was waiting for her in her tent when she returned and immediately she was on edge. Then she was sad that she was on edge because it was Raven. “I’m sorry, did you need something? I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, no,” Raven assured her, standing. “I uh…well. I finished a few radios. I know you’re working on your gift for Bellamy, so I made enough for you, me, Wells, and Miller. I’ll have a couple more soon, but this way you can get status reports without having to run around.” She explained, holding out Clarke’s radio to her.

“Thanks, Raven.” She smiled, taking the scrappy tech. Raven didn’t really have a poker face, and she was grateful for that. Right now, her tone was soft and sincere, and her body language was open—if a little skittish. “Really, I appreciate it. I know you were going to make them anyway, but it’ll be nice to know what’s going on without having to drop what I’m doing.”

“I wasn’t going to make them yet.” She admitted. “I made a few when Monty told me what you were up to today. I realized you hadn’t started yet because you didn’t want to miss anything. This way you won’t have to.” She rubbed at the back of her neck. “Look, I’m not happy about the Finn thing.”

Clarke sighed, shoulders drooping. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s hard to imagine it’s him, and I don’t know if I think it is, but we have to—“

“Be sure. I know. You’re doing the right thing here. I don’t like it, but I can’t really deny that it’s what needs to happen. Besides, blaming you isn’t going to get us anywhere, you didn’t poison Bellamy, and it’s not like you’re locking him up before you’ve proved him guilty.” She admitted. “It just stings. He’s always been the person I trusted the most, and now he’s taking stances I don’t agree with and there are people I trust more than him. It’s all new.”

Clarke stayed quiet. She couldn’t imagine how Raven felt, so there was nothing she could really say to make it better. She could listen, though. She was good at that.

“I know what happened between you two before I landed. I don’t blame you, so don’t even.” She held up a hand when Clarke (predictably) opened her mouth to apologize. “He seems to feel like he has a hand in your decisions just because you’ve slept together, and that’s really stupid, but I don’t know if it’s the kind of stupid that would lead to him poisoning a warlord during a sacred engagement ceremony. That seems beyond him. I don’t think it would even occur to him. So while I’m not ruling it out, I am begging you to keep an open mind on this. He’s more likely to ruin this by opening his fat mouth to the wrong people.”

Clarke had to admit, she had a point there. “You’re probably right.” She agreed. Raven looked a little startled by the admission, but her eyes focused in like a laser. “At the time, he was the only person that we noticed was missing, and he’s been the most vocal opponent to the terms of the alliance. That’s why I wanted to look at him first, not because I thought that he’d definitely done it. I just wanted to be sure.”

“And the verdict?”

She grimaced. “Still not sure, but it’s not xi. That’s why I wanted you to watch him. No one would know if he’s acting out of character better than you.” She shrugged. “Aside from that, I would rather focus on keeping Bellamy safe than watching potential suspects. I don’t want it to be one of us. Granted, I don’t know who else it could be, but it would be a nightmare if it was one of us.”

Raven nodded but looked horribly guilty. “I’m really sorry.” She said quietly. “About how I’ve been acting for the past few days? I get tunnel vision when it comes to Finn, sometimes. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I know you’re just trying to do what’s best.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m new to this leading thing. You wouldn’t be one of my advisors if you weren’t comfortable pointing out where I’m going wrong.” Clarke assured her.

“That’s my point. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just let my emotions get in the way.” Raven insisted. “And I can’t promise I won’t do it again, so if I’m going to be one of your advisors, you need to tell me when I’m lacking perspective. This is all hard enough, we don’t need to make it worse by not communicating. That means you can’t just take it on the chin. We’re putting a lot on your shoulders here, so if you want us to count on you, you can’t set yourself on fire just to keep us warm.”

Clarke smiled self-deprecatingly. “That’s not the first time I’ve gotten that lecture today.”

“Good. Because I’m apologizing here, but this is also a serious teachable moment. You totally let me slam you with that ‘your majesty’ comment earlier. I know you’re not super into a monarchy, but damn Clarke, you’re about to be a queen. The correct response to my statement would have been ‘if you don’t want to follow my orders, find a new fucking clan.’ I would have been pissy for a few more hours, but it’s not like I’m gonna leave. Jesus.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “I would literally never say that.”

“Then I’ll have to follow you around and say it for you.” She snarked. “Because those puppy-dog eyes were lame. We’re a warrior nation now, not a warm-fuzzy cuddle puddle.” She stepped up to give Clarke a quick hug before heading for the tent flap. “Now go to bed! Your eye-bags look like they could hold ten days’ rations.”

Her jaw dropped, affronted. “They do not! You take that back!"

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