#miss roan wants me to kill myself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

turning-dreams-into-chaos · 4 years ago

Text

Banished (Part 48)

~Banished Master~

Word Count: 10K

~Master~

*Based off episode 4x03 of the 100, The Four Horsemen*

Bold Italics are in Trig!

Previously...

Lexa?

You couldn’t believe your eyes and you shouldn’t have because the moment you blinked, she was gone. No one else having seen anything. You cleared your throat, blinking your eyes a few times more as you looked around, your sights landing on the rover in hopes of what? That your deceased friend would be there?

Clarke and Bellamy started walking away but your feet were planted in place. Bellamy paused, seeing you not move. “You coming?”

You looked at him, nodding your head. “Yeah… yeah, I’ll catch up.” You told him. He didn’t say anything as he kept walking taking glances back at you.

You brought your hand up to the back of your neck, feeling the spot where the flame was inserted. The flame? Lexa? The voice?

What the hell?

---

Since Clarke’s speech, the amount of working getting done has increased, everyone wanting to help save themselves for the end of the world. It made you a little mad. When they were asked to help before the threat of death looming over their heads, all they wanted to do was relax, but now that there’s a possibility they would die and suddenly everyone wants to be useful.

Clarke and you followed Bellamy to where Raven was working, you helping push a cart with Clarke as Bellamy spoke. “Two meals a day for people working as hard as ours, we won’t make any friends.” You stopped moving the cart as you entered the room, glancing up at Raven to see sparks coming from her welding.

“If there’s one thing our people understand, it’s rationing.” Clarke sighed and you both began unloading. You handed Bellamy some of the rations, receiving a nod before he took the food from you and Clarke. “Besides, once we close those doors, it’ll be one mean a day for the next five years.”

Raven groaned as she stopped her job, turning around to look at the three of you. “Try one meal a day every other day. Hunting parties are coming back with less and less.”

“What about preserving meat?” you asked ducking your head and handing Bellamy a bag of corn. “Niylah said she’s been busier than ever.”

Raven nodded. “We’re preserving more meat than ever, but it’s still not enough.” She told you. She looked between you and Bellamy, sending you both a small glare. “Without a way to make water, growing our own protein like we did on the ark isn’t an option.” She shoved her helmet into your hands and pulled off her gloves, shoving them into Bellamy’s. “Remember that when we’re starving.”

Bellamy looked to you, seeing you bit your tongue from making your remark. “I won’t be starving because I won’t be inside.” He told you all as you furrowed your brows and looked at him.

“The hell you won’t.” you snapped at him, earning a sigh from him. “No. Bellamy stop. We both made the choice okay?” He hesitated before nodding his head, looking into your eyes as they soften. “Okay. And Raven?” you said, turning to the mechanic. She looked at you, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Despite everything, we made the right choice. Try and see that.” She scoffed at you, shaking her head.

“Clarke, did you make the list?” Raven said, ignoring your comment as you looked to Bellamy, shrugging your shoulders bitterly. He felt bad for you, you were just trying to get Raven to stop taking it out on him.

“No.” Clarke answered quick. “What about drinking water?”

“Don’t change the subject, Clarke.” Raven objected, moving on the other side of you to get closer to Clarke and whispered. “We need to know who’s on the inside of these doors when the radiation comes.”

You listened in on them, helping Bellamy stock the shelves. “We don’t need to know now.” Clarke reminded her and you heard Raven scoff before a man came over the PA, requesting medical help at the front gate.

You all exchanged looks of worry before heading to the front gate. There was a crowd already forming, a line of guards in the front aiming guns as you and Bellamy lead the way, pushing through the crowd. The sight met in front of you wasn’t what you were expecting.

A few grounders stood there, well, collapsed on the ground as you arrived. You stayed back with Bellamy as Clarke moved forward. “Nyko?” She asked as the man picked his head up.

Miller grabbed Bellamy’s arm. “What if it’s another grounder attack like they did with Murphy?” He asked. You winced, remembering your time in Lincoln’s cave throwing up and in pain.

You looked to the grounders, not recognizing any signs of that sickness on them. “It’s not.” You told them, earning look from both boys.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know.” You ended the conversation, not wanting to explain how you knew of Grounder attack tactics to them. You pulled your eyes back to the grounders, stepping forwards to Clarke’s side. “Luna?” you questioned, recognizing the woman as she doubled over in coughing.

She looked up, meeting your eyes before looking to Clarke. “Please don’t turn us away because of what I did to you.” She plead.

“What happened?” You asked her, noticing what looked to be burns across her skin.

“The sickness.” Nyko grumbled as he looked down to the young girl he laid on the ground. “We lost 40 more on the way.”

You gasped as Abby came pushing through the crowd, Doctor mode ready as she held her bag, holding a napkin to her face as she got closer. You felt Bellamy’s presence beside you as you stared at the little girl, watching her cough violently.

Abby knelt down, removing her hand as she reached out to the girl. Clarke knelt as well, whispering to her mom. “What is this?”

Abby hesitated and turned away from Floukru, speaking to her daughter as you, Bellamy, and Raven who had caught up just before Abby had, overheard. “Fever, lesions, vomiting. It’s ARS.”

“What’s ARS?” Bellamy asked the question on both your minds.

Abby looked up and fell back on her heels. “Acute Radiation Sickness.“ The three of you who stood back shared looks. If Floukru was hit by Radiation, time was running out faster than you thought. Abby began examining the girl, checking out the burns and blisters on her face. “When did the symptoms start?” She asked.

Luna shook her head with her admittance. “Not sure. Right before the fish started dying.”

“The fish are dying?” Raven asked, wanting a clarification.

“Floating on the sea to the horizon in every direction.” Nyko told her. She looked to Clarke before Abby started standing up, pulling them with her.

“It’s not contagious. Let’s get you to the med bay.” She and Raven began leading them to the med bay. They left a girl, someone the sickness had taken as you crouched down to her, Bellamy and Clarke following you.

You pushed the hair out of the face of the girl. Bellamy watched you, hearing you sigh and close your eyes. “It’s already here.” Clarke pointed out as you nodded, feeling the fear in your stomach increase.

---

Octavia sat in Polis, right outside where she had been staying. The crowds around her separated as she looked up, seeing a hooded figure approach her before stopping. She stood up as he pulled off the hood, revealing himself to be Roan. “It’s not safe for you to be here.“ She reminded him and put away her sword. “What do you want?”

“For you to handle something for me the way you handled Ambassador Rafel.” He spoke quietly and didn’t hear Indra come outside until her boots scuffed against the ground. He looked to her, seeing her stare. “We should talk alone.” He muttered under his breath to Octavia.

Octavia denied his request. “If you can’t trust Indra, you can’t trust me.”

Roan didn’t say anything as Indra approached. He was about to leave before realizing Octavia was his best choice. “The Flame’s been stolen.” He told the two women. They knew the effects losing the Flame had on Roan’s ruling. If the Flame got into the wrong hands, everything could fall apart. “Just now. From my quarters while I was training.” He filled them in more.

“How could you be so careless?” Indra growled at him, receiving a side eye from the King.

“We need to lock down the City and search everyone.”

“We can’t.” Indra stopped Octavia’s idea. “If word gets out that he’s lost the flame, the other clans will question his rule, Trikru loudest of all.”

“Then I will be forced to answer their questions with my army.”

“Or we can just find it.” Octavia sighed and picked up her sword again. “Where do I start?”

“Whoever did this got in and out of the tower without being seen. To risk it, she’d have to care more about the flame than her own life.”

“She?”

Roan nodded. “The new Flamekeeper.”

Indra narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps you should look closer to home. You’re not exactly beloved.” Indra and Roan went back and forth

“My people want an Ice Nation King.”

“The ambassadors don’t.”

“The ambassadors are cowards and know I’d have their head. The keepers of the flame are fanatics. I’d do it myself, but my guard won’t let me out of their sights.”

“I’ll handle it.” Octavia assured him, glancing behind him and stopping her mentor and the King’s argument. Roan and Indra watched her walk away, a sour look upon the woman’s face.

“What’s wrong? You’ve made a killer.” Roan spoke in a hush tone. “In the street, they’re calling her Skairipa. Death from above.”

“I’m so proud.” Indra said sarcastically.

“You should be.” He cut her off. “One kill to prevent thousands? That’s good politics.”

---

In a cave not far from Arkadia, Murphy and Emori were pulling traps out from the woods. “You said there would be food.” Murphy grumbled, bringing in his third empty trap.

“There should be. These woods have always been good to me.” Emori moved a few longs, checking the cave ground. “Now there’s not even bugs.”

“Well, fortunately I’m not hungry enough for that to be upsetting yet.” Murphy went over to his girlfriend, taking a seat next to her and staring at their fire. “I actually kind of miss Polis.” He admitted, warming his hands up. “They had this drink there, it was sweet, made from sheep’s milk.”

Emori felt jealousy sitting in her stomach. “Ontari gave you this?”

Murphy’s jaw clenched. “Yeah.” He nodded. “I told you it wasn’t all bad.”

“You told me you were trying to survive.”

“I was.”

“What else wasn’t bad, John, sex?”

“Emori, I don’t wanna talk about this.” He told her, not wanting to relive memories of the things Ontari forced him to do.

“Fine. Then let’s not.” Ontari almost growled at him before getting up and storming off.

“I didn’t have a choice, ok? Emori!” He called after her as she stopped, turning back to look at him. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Emori looked into his eyes, lit from the fire in front of him as she nodded and moved closer, throwing a piece of wood into the fire but staying on the other side from Murphy. Murphy sighed, letting his head fall before he pushed himself up and grabbed his bag, heading to the entrance as Emori stood up. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to Arkadia. I’m a better thief than a hunter.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Murphy denied her as she stepped forward to him. “I’ll draw less attention alone.” Emori’s face fell as Murphy cupped her cheek and kissed her goodbye. “Tonight, we feast.” He promised her, seeing her smile before he walked out of the cave.

---

“You okay?” You asked Bellamy as you both headed to the med bay. His shoulders were tense before he looked at you and felt himself relax.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

You stopped him from blowing off his feelings, pulling his arm to stop walking. “Bellamy.” Your stern tone made him look to you. “You know Raven’s just giving you a hard time. You made the right choice.”

Bellamy nodded and bit his lip. “We made it together.” He finally admitted as you smiled, glad he was finally coming to terms with the fact he wasn’t the only one to blame. Walking into the med bay, you were greeted with coughs, someone vomiting up blood as you paused in the doorway with Bellamy. Abby and Jackson were across the room, talking about taking medicine from Raven’s lockdown supply.

Scanning across the sick, your eyes landed on Luna reaching for a bucket, spitting up black blood as you rushed over. She let you grab the bucket and pull her hair back as she spit up. Bellamy helped you, grabbing a napkin to wipe her face once she was done.

She sat the bed, her legs dangling off the side as you handed the bucket off to someone. Luna looked terrible, the radiation sickening her as she muttered to you and Bellamy. “Do you think I deserve this for refusing the Flame?”

You were shocked by her question, exchanging glances with Bellamy before he shook his head. “No one deserves to suffer.” He told her.

Nodding your head, you tugged on the sleeve of your shirt. “The radiation would’ve came anyways. It had nothing to do with you.” She looked up at you.

“This is all my people.” She glanced back at Clarke and Abby, seeing them in a discussion. “Can they save them?”

The truth was you had no clue. “They’ll try their best.” Bellamy assured her, seeing the look in your eye. Luna didn’t say anything else and Clarke walked away from her mother, heading towards you and Bellamy.

“Tell me something good.” She sighed as you shook your head.

“It depends.” You began, seeing her raise her brow. “How much do you wanna talk to Raven?”

The three of you headed to the computer room where Raven was currently working, pulling up charts of the Radiation’s path. “This is Luna’s rig.” She pointed to the middle of the water where you and Bellamy had mapped. “If the fish in these waters are dying, basically we’re screwed.” She thankfully didn’t try to hide it, giving it to you straight.

“I thought ALIE said we had 6 months?”

“We don’t.” She grumbled back to Bellamy.

“Well then how long do we have?” Clarke asked her, looking through the computer screens.

“It’s hard to say.” She began, telling of how Radiation is carried through the currents. “Based on new data, I’d say we have two months of survivability, maybe less.”

“Two months?” You blurted out stunned. “There’s no way the Ark would be ready in two months.”

“It’ll be close. If we triple the man hours and work around the clock, we should be able to achieve a hard seal before the black rain comes.” She didn’t seem that confident as you listened. “We just have to choose who lives here.”

“We’re not talking about the list again.” Clarke cut her off.

“We are running out of time. We have to make a plan for the day the door closes, drill for it, make sure only the survivors have guns, agree on protocols for dealing with the people who are pissed they aren’t chosen.” Realizing she was almost yelling, Raven took a deep breath. “You asked me to be in charge of rationing. I’m doing it. But choosing who lives or dies in your specialty.” You were about to speak up for Clarke, knowing how difficult this decision would be for her, but the sound of a rover starting up rendered you all quiet. “No one’s scheduled to take the rover.”

Making way outside, Bellamy went first to the rover, seeing Jaha in the drivers seat and knocking on the window. “Get out.” He sighed and pulled open the door but Jaha made no move.

“I need to make a run.”

“All supply runs go through me.” Raven reminded Jaha. “And shouldn’t you be working on the patch in sector 5?”

Jaha turned the engine off and stepped out of the vehicle. “A patch to a ship that can only save a hundred people?” The four of you stood in front of him, worried of the secret getting out. “I’m an engineer. We don’t a have a way to generate water, the harder number would be 400.” He looked directly to Clarke. “Can you really sentence 400 people to their deaths?”

“We don’t have a choice!” She yelled at him. You immediately grabbed her shoulders, stepping in between her and Jaha until she calmed down. You looked over her shoulder, seeing people staring as you cleared your throat and looked to Jaha.

“What can you offer?” You spoke quietly yet harsh, needing to know whether Jaha was down to help.

“What if I told you there might be a fallout shelter, less than a day’s drive from here built to sustain thousands.”

“We’ve been through the chancellor’s files.” Raven scoffed. “All bunkers considered for the 100 were listed as compromised or unviable.”

“Those were government bunkers.” He reached back into the rover, pulling out a tablet and handing it to you who stood in front of everyone. Bellamy, Clarke and Raven looked over your shoulder as you all read the article.

“A doomsday cult?”

Jaha nodded. “That’s right. The Second Dawn.”

“They built a bunker?” Clarke questioned as you swiped through the articles, skimming over readings about 12 seals and about the arrival of the apocalypse.

“Their whole theology was based on riding out the end of the world.”

“So why didn’t you consider it earlier? Why not for the 100?” You didn’t look up as you spoke, checking the date of the article written years before the end of the world the first time.

“We couldn’t prove it existed and before now we didn’t need it.” Jaha told you, watching your thumb swipe across the screen again before pausing.

“You found it.” Your question was more of a statement as Jaha smiled. He didn’t confirm your suspicions but said it remains unsure until checked out.

You turned to Raven, tilting her head as she scoffed. “No way. We need that rover for hauling pieces of a three-ton patch we’re building.

“But think about it Raven. A bunker that could save more than a hundred, it could save everyone.”

Clarke was debating, unsure whether they could risk it. “If he’s right, we don’t need a patch.” She muttered.

Raven held herself back, looking between the three of you. “Can I talk to you guys for a second?” You nodded, following her off to the side away from Jaha. “You can’t really be thinking this is a good idea. Need I remind you Y/N, what happened last time Jaha went looking for salvation?”

“Of course, I remember Raven!” You whisper-yelled at her, running a hand over your face. You were the one having nightmares about voices you definitely never heard before.

Bellamy put his hand on your lower back, keeping you in check. “Raven, if that bunker is real, Y/N’s right, it could save a lot more than 100 people.”

“If it’s not, then we lost another day.”

“If it’s not, then I’ll make the list.” Clarke promised her. Your mouth fell open as you turned to Clarke, meeting her eye and nodding, happy she’s taking your side on this. Raven wasn’t happy, telling you all to do what you want and storming off. Once she left you turned to Clarke.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, if Jaha fails-“

“I’ll go with him.” You assured her. “And if Jaha fails, I’ll help with the list. I’ll help you decide the 100.” Clarke seemed unsure as she looked over to Jaha standing next to the rover, watching the 3 of you.

“I’d appreciate the help.”

Bellamy wasn’t going to let you go Jaha alone. “I’ll drive.” He volunteered as you gave him a smile and said goodbye to Clarke.

---

Jaha moved around to the other side of the Rover but you shook your head, pointing to the backseat. He chuckled and climbed in the back as you sat in the passenger’s side. Bellamy drove the rover out of the camp and a few minutes later Jaha was passing the tablet back up to you, a video loaded on the screen.

“The end is coming.” The man on the screen, Bill Cadogan began. “Hear me as I say this. The end is coming and it’s coming soon.”

“He gave this speech two weeks before the bombs.” Jaha told you and you turned the screen, allowing Bellamy to see as well.

Cadogan went on, telling the crowd the world was turning on them and the only way they could be saved was to join him. “From the Ashes, we will rise.” Cadogan finished as you and Bellamy and you began getting worried.

You passed the tablet back, looking at the older man. “Please tell me you have more than this.”

Jaha swiped through the articles, finding the one he needed. “In the two years before the bombs, Cadogan sold off most of the Second Dawn’s real estate holdings, generating tens of millions of dollars.” You glanced back at him, seeing him finally settling on the article. “There was one thing he didn’t sell.” You took the tablet again. “I found this autobiography. It’s his childhood home. His father built a bunker there to save his family.”

“So, what of it?” You beckoned him to get on with his story, looking at the picture of the house.

“I think Cadogan used the church’s money to expand it.”

“He grew up there. Maybe he kept it for sentimental value.” Bellamy shrugged. You nodded, not understanding what was so special.

“His father beat him almost daily in that house. He hated living there.”

You froze at Jaha’s words, feeling Bellamy’s eyes on you as soon as the words crossed his lips. It was silent in the rover, your hand beginning to shake before you let out a breath. “I would’ve burned down the house.” You told them and put the tablet on your lap. “I think Jaha’s right. Why keep someplace like that if you’re liquidating everything else?”

“The bunker’s there I can feel it.” Jaha seemed so sure of himself. Bellamy’s eyes were looking between you and the front window, making sure you were alright before speaking up.

“This guy sounds like a religious fanatic to me.”

“Maybe.” Jaha agreed slightly. “Or maybe he was just a leader willing to do whatever he needed to save his people.” You and Bellamy met eyes before you looked down at the cottage like house, feeling the rover speed up underneath you.

---

The gates of Arkadia opened, Miller and his father taking guard before seeing a grinning Murphy.

“Look who’s back.” Miller said, putting down his weapon. “Thought you ran off with your girlfriend.”

“You jealous Miller? There’s enough of me to go around.” He joked as Miller’s face fell. “Although I’m sure Bryan would kick my ass.” Miller tried to hide his sadness at the mention of his boyfriend, their fight still fresh in his mind.

“You here to stay, John?” David asked Murphy, diverting the attention off his son.

Murphy shrugged. “Till something better comes along.” He moved past Miller, bumping shoulders with the boy who yanked his arm away. Murphy moved through the camp, avoiding everyone’s eyes as he made way to the food storage room. Raven was welding once again as he snuck in, taking his backpack off and slipping between the shelves. He grabbed some food, a few packages of meat, some vegetables, just enough where he assumed no one would notice. When Abby walked into the room, he ducked behind the shelves, peaking his head out only to listen in.

“I already told Jackson we can’t spare anything.” Raven grumbled at Abby as she pulled her helmet off. “Especially not antiradiation meds.”

“We’re talking about 7 doses.”

“That’s a quarter of our supply, Abby! A supply that had to last us 5 years on an irradiated planet.” Murphy’s spirits fell, realizing he hadn’t known about the impending doom bound to fall upon them. “We’re gonna need every one of those pills. You know that Abby.”

“You’re right. We put you in charge of the pills, it’s your call.”

“Will it work?” Raven interrupted her. “Can you guarantee the medicine will save them?” Abby stayed quiet. “You can’t because you know Delactivene needs to be used within 24 hours of exposure. It’s on the damn label.”

“The rate of effectiveness goes down, but that doesn’t mean it won’t work. We have to try.”

“No.”

“There’s a child with them. At least give me enough for her.”

Raven shook her head softly. “I’m sorry but we can’t waste our supply on a long shot.”

“If we can save one life, would you call that a waste?”

“Even if it worked and we could save them today, they’ll be dead from radiation within two months.”

“You tell yourself that if you need to, but the radiation isn’t killing that child. You are.” Raven waited until Abby was out of the room before letting a tear fall from her eyes, feeling the weight of their deaths already on her shoulders. Murphy sighed as he watched her, waiting until Raven’s blowtorch was going and she wasn’t paying attention before sneaking over to the medicine.

Abby sat in the med bay, Luna and her people were all variously wrapped in emergency blankets, coughs filling the room. She had no clue how to help them without the Delactivene and even with it, she wasn’t sure it would work.

Murphy walked in, holding the bottle in his hand and looking around the room. He shook the bottle, holding it out in front of Abby. “You were looking for these?” He said as Abby saw his offering and became confused.

“Where did you-“ she stopped herself, taking the bottle from him as Jackson walked up. “Never mind.”

“I didn’t know how much you needed, so I took it all.” Abby and Jackson just stood there. “What are you waiting for? Go. Be doctors.”

Abby passed the bottle to Jackson. “Give it to the child first and if it works, you give it to the others.” Jackson nodded, heading over to the little girl. Abby turned Murphy, hesitating before speaking to him. “I’m glad you’re back John. I was worried about you.” Murphy smiled at her, blushing as he thanked her.

Abby patted his arm before helping Jackson with the girl. She supported her head, telling her it was okay as the girl looked worriedly between the two doctors. Luna laid on the bed next to her. “Adria.” She whispered out. Adria, the little girl, turned to see Luna reaching out to her and joined their hands together. “It’s okay. You can trust them.” Luna told the girl who listened, taking the pill she was offered and downing it with water. She coughed a little but swallowed the pill down as Murphy watched on.

“What about the others?” Nyko asked once Adria was laid down.

“We’ll monitor Adria closely for the next few hours. If her symptoms improve, we’ll treat the adults.” Jackson informed him.

“Thank you.” Luna mumbled, still holding Adria’s hand. Abby smiled and put her hand on top of theirs before pulling away, looking at Murphy as Jackson chuckled.

“His father got arrested for stealing medicine to save him.” Jackson was impressed. “Who knew he had it in him.”

Abby’s smile only got wider. “I did.”

---

The street of Polis was packed like always as a woman walked through them, a mask covering her face and a hood over her head. She paused in her walk, looking around before pulling the stolen Flame out of her pocket. She wasn’t aware as Octavia watched her, following after her once she started walking again.

She headed towards the temple but Octavia was stopped on the way, a man jumping in front of her. “Where are you going, sky girl?” He snarled at her.

“Be smart and back off.” Octavia pushed him out of the way. Before he could attack her again, Ilian stepped in, glaring at the man.

“No. We’re here for the tech. That’s all.” He reminded him.

Octavia listened in. “What’s the point?” She asked Ilian.

“ALIE used tech to control us. Without it, no one will ever take over our minds again.” Octavia backed away, shaking her head as she chased after the thief. Ilian sent his people to follow her, knowing Octavia would lead him to what he wanted.

The thief entered the Temple, pulling off her mask and hood as Octavia snuck in behind her. “So, you’re the new Flamekeeper?”

“This is a sacred place, leave before you get hurt.”

“Give me the Flame and I will.” Octavia told her, reaching her hand out. The thief was taken back.

“It does not belong to you or your red-blooded King.”

Octavia unsheathed her sword, cocking her head. “I can’t let you leave with it.” The thief fired back, telling Octavia she didn’t have choice. Octavia swung her sword at her, determined to return the Flame.

The Thief was getting the upper hand, blocking all of Octavia’s punches. “Good technique. I know it well.” Octavia noticed the Flame sitting in her necklace before swinging the thief’s legs out from under her, bringing her to the ground and holding her sword in the air.

“Stop!” Indra called from the side of the fight. “Put down the sword, Octavia.”

“She has the Flame.”

“She’s my daughter.” Octavia was shocked as she dropped her sword, moving off of Indra’s daughter and reaching a hand down to pull her up. She didn’t take it, helping herself off the ground instead. The girl glared at Octavia who ignored the look, looking at Indra instead.

“I’ll talk to Roan. If we give him back the flame, I can convince him to show mercy.”

“Azgeda knows no mercy.” Indra muttered, walking to her daughter. “Give me the Flame, Gaia.”

Gaia stayed defiant of her mother’s orders, refusing to give up the flame. “It’s around her neck.”

“It’s nothing. A totem she’s worn since she joined the faith.” Indra shrugged off Octavia’s discovery. “You are interfering in matters you don’t understand.”

“Wrong. I’m a Flamekeeper. I’m honoring my faith, a faith you once believed in.”

“Don’t question my devotion.”

“A devoted follower would die before giving the Flame to an unworthy king.” Octavia watched as the mother and daughter went back and forth, arguing for their side. “You pervert our faith. Heda would be ashamed.”

“I’m doing what’s best for trikru. You would understand if you had stayed and done your duty.”

“I was called!”

“My daughter was not meant to wander the earth looking for Nightbloods!” Indra felt her blood boil as she tried not to yell. “My daughter was meant to lead armies. My daughter was meant to lead our people.”

Gaia stayed quiet, biting back tears as she turned away from Indra to Octavia. “It looks like you’ve found your daughter.”

“Roan sent me here to kill you.” Octavia told Gaia, reminding them both of the situation at hand. “If I don’t come back with the flame, he will send others.”

Gaia picked her head up. “If the spirit of the commanders deem it my time, then so be it.”

Indra didn’t want to imagine losing her daughter after how long she’s gone without Gaia. She stared at Gaia as Octavia tried to talk to her. “Indra, tell me what to do here. Without the flame, the king is vulnerable. We will need to fight to keep him on the throne. If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll do it for you.”

“I can run.” Gaia offered.

“He’ll find you.” Indra cut her off. “Don’t throw your life away.”

Gaia let tears fall down her face. “That’s what you said the day I left. You still don’t understand.”

Pounding erupted on the temple door, the three of them inside jumping at the sound. “Looters. If they find the Flame, they’ll destroy it.” Ilian led the charge outside, cheering at every push of the door. “I’ll take the tunnel.” Gaia told them.

But Octavia had a different plan.

The looters entered the temple, Ilian leading the way as he kicked open the door. His men encircled Octavia, Indra and Gaia. “Drop your weapons.” He told the women. “We just want the tech, no one has to get hurt.”

The three of them paused before dropping their weapons. As soon as they did, the men behind them grabbed them and restrained them all. Gaia grabbed the pack on her hip, trying to keep the men from taking it.

“Give me the pack!” One man yelled as he reached for the bag, but Gaia pulled it away.

“No!” Gaia yelled but he got it anyways. “Give it back!” He passed it to Ilian who barely needed to dig around to find the Flame. He held it in his fingers. “Please! It’s not tech! It’s the spirit of the commanders!”

Ilian walked past the three, placing the Flame upon a surface.

“Ilian, you don’t have to do this!”

“Yes, I do.” He mumbled. “For my mother.” He whispered before screaming, lifting a mallet in the air and swinging down on the Flame. The piece split apart, sending chunks through the air. The men cheered, the women watching on as they pushed over columns in the temple, dust and debris flying everywhere.

Octavia, Gaia and Indra waited until the looters were gone, satisfied with the job. “They’re gone.” Octavia told them as she kicked over a cabinet, the Flame box sitting underneath as she picked it up. The broken pieces still sat on the surface as Octavia brushed them into her hand, showing them to Gaia. Gaia lifted her necklace from her chest, the totem that once sat there now destroyed. “Sorry about your necklace.”

Gaia held up her hand, the perfectly intact Flame sitting in it as she shook her head. “Don’t be. It was a good plan.” Gaia smiled as she took the Flame container from Octavia. “Thank you.”

Indra watched as Gaia put the Flame back. “You got what you wanted.”

“So did you.” Gaia responded before her mother walked out of the temple. She did as well, leaving Octavia to follow after her mentor.

“Indra.” Octavia called once they were outside. She saw Indra try to hold back her feelings. “She’s family.” Octavia sighed.

“Roan will still want her head.”

“Not if he doesn’t know it was her.” Octavia walked off, heading to speak to Roan.

---

Raven took a break from her work, turning off her blowtorch and pulling her helmet off for air. As she relaxed, she noticed the medicine cabinet and the broken glass protecting it. She stormed into the med bay, ready to yell at Abby but Murphy stopped her before she could get further than the entrance.

“Now’s not really a good time.” He told her. She narrowed her eyes at him before pushing past, getting Abby’s attention who was standing next to Adria, the poor girl wheezing as she struggled to breathe.

Before Raven could get far she spotted Murphy’s bag, the preserved meat he had stolen sitting inside of it as she scoffed. “Once a cockroach, always a cockroach, huh?”

“Seriously Raven, now’s not the time.”

Abby grabbed the bottle of stolen medicine, moving around Jackson to come to Raven. “We only wasted one dose.” She told the girl and handed over the bottle before returning to the side of the dying girl. Raven watched from the other side of the room as Luna held Adria, whispering the final words the young girl would hear as she died.

“Think about the waves, my love. Can you hear them? Gently lapping beneath us. We’ll be with the waves soon. Your fight is over.”

---

It was quiet as Bellamy kept driving the rover, very little conversation being made since your first one. As soon as the rover was parked, you climbed out, using your flashlight to see past the trees. Bellamy was by your side, as you followed Jaha, leading you down a slope in the dark.

“How much farther?” You asked Jaha, shining your light all around you. Jaha stopped himself, holding up the tablet in the air.

The image on the tablet matched the dark scene in front of you enough in his eyes. “This is it.” You nodded your head, feigning impressed with the sight of nothing in front of you. “If anyone’s entitled to a lucky break, we are.” You and Bellamy didn’t say anything as you looked at him, both of you hoping this was going to work. “You hear that?” Jaha asked, making you listen but only greeted with the sound of silence. “No insects.” Bellamy and you wore matching faces, both showing worry. “What is it.”

“Luna said the fish were dying.” You told Jaha.

“What are the things that eat the insects and the fish going to eat now?” Bellamy filled in the gap.

You let out a chuckle. “So much for a lucky break.” You mumbled before walking forward, shining your light on the ground. “Jaha, what are we looking for?”

“The bunker would be at the lowest point in the ground.” You sucked in a breath and nodded your head.

“Anything structural, be careful.” Bellamy called to both of you as ventured farther away.

“Aye, Aye, Captain.” You smirked over your shoulder, seeing Bellamy smile before you continued to search.

Jaha watched the exchange, waiting until you were out of sight. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“Who?” Bellamy asked him as he furrowed his brows.

Jaha only chuckled at him. He used his flashlight to gesture to you who remained unaware of their conversation. “She’s come a long way from the young girl I knew.” Bellamy didn’t say anything, watching you search for the bunker. “A lot of that’s thanks to you.”

“No.” Bellamy interrupted him. “That’s all her. Everything she’s gone through, she got herself through.” Jaha stopped his searching, realizing Bellamy had as well to watch you.

“You keep her centered.” He told Bellamy. Bellamy shook his head, finally looking away from you.

“You’ve got it backwards.”

“Still blaming yourself for that army.” Jaha didn’t need to be in Bellamy’s head to know what he was thinking. “You’ve made mistakes, but your intentions were pure. Every choice you made, you made for your people, for her. Even shooting me twice. As long as that’s the truth, you don’t need redemption.”

“You better hope so.” Bellamy said breaking Jaha’s speech.

“And why’s that?”

“Well, if you’re wrong, and there is a hell,” Bellamy paused, taking one glance over to you, “Then I guess Y/N and I will see you there.”

“Bell! Jaha! I think I found something!” You shouted, looking back at the men to see them in conversation and Bellamy looking at you. You blew off any weird thoughts you had as you beckoned them over to the bunker entrance you found.

Bellamy finally caught up, looking down at the stairs before beginning his way down. “Stay behind me.” He told you as you nodded, helping him pull the leaves and tree branches out of the way. “Watch your head.” Bellamy warned you as you ducked, seeing him having paused to make sure you were good. You sent him a grin as he kept moving, pushing through the cobwebs blocking the room.

“Is this it?” You asked moving some of your own cobwebs out of your face and off of Bellamy. You moved towards the door, Bellamy’s light on a skeleton sitting right on the ground buried in webs as he squatted.

He noticed a pendent, picking it up and dusting it before turning it over. “From the ashes, we will rise.” He read, glancing back at you and Jaha. He stood up, handing Jaha the pendent. “Not this guy.” He motioned to the dead guy as you bit your lip, agreeing with Bellamy with the tilt of your head.

Jaha turned the thing over in his hands, roman numerals written on the other side. “The 11th seal. Their faith was based on 12 seals, followers can level up by unlocking them one at a time. Only those who reach level twelve could achieve salvation.”

This was the bunker. You moved your flashlight around the room, seeing the door sealed shut. “Think that’s why they didn’t let him in?” You asked, motioning to the door.

“I was right.” Jaha whispered, quickly moving to check out the door.

“Wait, what if they’re still in there?” You asked Bellamy. His eyes widened.

He started pounding on the door. “Hey! Is anyone there?” he yelled but no one answered.

“I guess not.” You mumbled. If no one was in there, and no one came out, where did everyone go?

“It’s still sealed.” Jaha said as he ran his flashlight up and down the door’s edges.

“There’s no locks or handles.”

Jaha nodded. “That’s because it was designed to be opened from the inside.

“Right and why wasn’t it?” you asked rhetorically.

“How about from the outside by someone with a rover?” Bellamy sent you a smirk as your frown turned into a grin.

Well, this should be good.

Jaha tied the rover to the unopened door and Bellamy hopped in the drivers’ seat as you stood outside the rover. Within just a few minutes, something broke.

“Was that it?” You called out.

“I don’t know.” Bellamy told you, stepping out of the rover. “Let’s go check it out.”

You all made way down once more, Jaha leading the way and sighing when he saw the door open. “It worked!” He told you both. You followed him inside, the room far to dark to see in even with your flashlights. Bellamy pulled a flare out his pocket, lighting it up and shining it into the room, lighting the bunker up with the red light. You stopped squinting, finally able to see but you wished you hadn’t been able to. Skeletons covered the floor as far as you could see, blood not only covering the ground but the walls and dripping down from the ceiling. “This can’t be.”

“It wasn’t sealed. The radiation would’ve killed them in days.” Bellamy said, sending Jaha a side eyed glare. “This won’t save anyone.”

You stayed silent, looking up to Bellamy and both of you know exactly what this meant for your salvation.

---

The door to the Throne room opened to Octavia marching in, a sack in her hand as she marched up to Roan at the Throne. Roan dismissed his guard, leaving him alone with Octavia. Octavia waited for the door to close before dropping the sack on the ground and uncovering the chopped off head to Roan.

“He was one of the looters. You were wrong about the Flamekeeper.” Octavia lied to the King, passing this now deceased man off as the thief.

“And the Flame?”

She reached into her back pocket, pulling out the broken necklace pieces and handing them to Roan. “Destroyed before I could kill him. I’m sorry.”

Roan took the pieces, holding them in his hand before tossing them into the fire next to him. “It’ll be more dangerous now. More people will have to die to keep me in power.” Octavia nodded. “Not that that bothers you, Skairipa.”

“People fell in line behind the Flame. Now they’ll fall in line behind the sword.”

“Let’s hope your people find a way to save us before they have to.” He told her, his rule slipping out of his fingers. “Get out.”

---

Emori was sleeping as Murphy arrived back at the cave, jolting her from her sleep as she smiled at Murphy. She pushed herself out of the little bed she had and Murphy hugged her the moment he could.

“John, what’s wrong?” She asked once she pulled away.

Murphy sighed, looking down at her. “It looks like we may need my people after all. There’s a storm coming and when it hits, we need to be on the right side of that door.”

Emori’s eyes were wide as she understood. “So… we make ourselves useful.”

Murphy grinned, happy she was catching on. “Yeah. Exactly. I’ve already started working on Abby. Come on, I’ll explain on the way.” He kicked out their fire and the couple were on their way to Arkadia.

---

It was another silent drive as Bellamy took the three of you back to Arkadia, ready to break the news to your friends. As soon as Bellamy parked the rover, you spoke up.

“I’ll go tell Clarke. Help her make… the list.” You started to climb out of the rover before Bellamy grabbed your hand.

You let him pull you back into seat to look at him. “We’ll get through this.”

You let yourself smile and nod. “I know. You promised, remember.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t last long and neither did yours. Of course, Bellamy remembered the promise he made you a few days ago, the only problem is he had no idea how to keep it.

You finally got out of the rover, looking around to all the working Arkers before heading inside to find Clarke. You stopped by her room first, seeing no sign of the girl before moving onto the Chancellors Office.

Clarke was sat at the desk scrolling through a tablet with the door wide open as you leaned against the doorframe. You knocked on the door, the blonde’s head shooting up but she calmed when it was only you.

“You’re back.” She stated the obvious, picking up on your sad expression. “What happened?

“Raven was right. The bunker… failed.” Clarke stayed silent, really hoping you and Bellamy would come back with news that she wouldn’t have to make a list of 100 survivors. You looked around, seeing the mess Clarke had made on the desk and table. “Have you been in here all day?”

She nodded. “I’ve been going through medical records, trying to figure out who’s life is worth more.” The last part of her sentence obviously gave her stress as she buried her head in her hands, rubbing her temples.

“Well then. What can I do?”

She wasn’t really expecting you to keep up your offer, especially not after just getting back. “You don’t-“

You shook your head to stop her. “I put my faith in Jaha, it didn’t work. I said I’d help you, so stop being so stubborn and let me help.” She seemed to appreciate the help. “Thank you. Now what am I doing?

“I’ve been going through archive files all day, trying to figure out who’s healthy and who’s a liability.” She told you as you grabbed another tablet, taking seat on the couch. “Why don’t you go through and make a list of everyone’s jobs. We need people who have the abilities to-“

“Keep people alive?” you finished for her, seeing her send you a tight-lipped smile. You started your search through everyone’s files, ignoring the unimportant parts as you documented what they had to offer. You sighed as you headed to main list of files scrolling through for the next group. You didn’t get very far before the name of a group of files got your attention.

Floated: 2140-2142

You paused, your thumb sitting over the file. People floated between 2140-2142. That was your parents. You snuck a look up at Clarke, seeing her preoccupied with jotting down some of the 100 as you clicked the group open, names of all the deceased popping up by last names.

You scrolled down to your last name, stopping as soon as you saw your parents’ names written on the screen. You must have been still for a little too long because Clarke had looked up, seeing you frozen.

“You find something?” She asks you and you scramble to close the records, feeling like you were getting caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

“No, uh nothing.” You told her once the files were close. “Just spaced. Long day.” You lied. She nodded, understanding for she had a long day herself.

“Well, feel free to get some rest.” She told you. You shrugged, pushing your parents to the back of your mind.

“I’m fine.” You assured her even though you weren’t sure of it yourself. For the last week, since you had slept in Bellamy’s bed, you’ve woken up quite the number of times to that same voice in your head. You didn’t know where it came from, but you assumed, from seeing Lexa, it had something to do with the Flame. You glanced up at Clarke. If anyone knew anything about the Flame side effects, it was Clarke, right? She was the one who was in a relationship with Lexa before she died. “Hey, Clarke?” She looked up at you, expecting a question about the files. Instead you sat there, regretting not thinking about the question before hand. “Did Lexa uh, ever mention voices? In her head?” Clarke was taken back by the question about her ex-lover, shifting in her seat as she thought about it. You regretted the question as soon as you asked it.

“She didn’t mention anything.” Clarke was straightforward as you nodded, adverting your eyes. “Why do you ask?”

You stayed quiet. If you told Clarke, what would she say? What’s even happening? Would she even be able to help? “I think the Flame’s messing with my head.” You blurted out, closing your eyes in fear of Clarke’s reaction.

When Clarke didn’t say anything, you slowly peaked one eye open, seeing the girl staring at you in confusion. “Messing with your head how?”

You let out a lengthy sigh. “I don’t know. I just, I’m hearing voices- well, a voice so far. I’ve never heard him I don’t think, in my life.”

“And you think the Flame-“

“There’s more.” You continued. She let you continue. “That day Bellamy and I went to Ice Nation and you made the speech, I saw-“ You stopped yourself, biting your tongue. If this was just in your head, should you be telling Clarke? Especially as she’s putting together a list of 100 people for the new world.

“You saw?”

“Lexa.” You finished. Clarke’s face hardened as she looked at you.

“That’s not funny.” She told you, turning back to her list. You were confused, watching her blow it off.

“Clarke, I’m not being funny. I saw Lexa that day, the night before was the first time I heard the voice.” You tried telling her, putting the tablet down and moving towards the desk.

She watched you, studying your actions before giving in. “These… side effects,” She called them, “They started a week ago?” You nodded. “And you didn’t tell anyone?” You shook your head. “Why not?”

You guffawed. “Oh yeah and say what? ‘Hey, remember that time we stuck a computer chip in my brain? Yeah I think something went wrong because now I can hear a man saying my name and I saw my dead friend.’ People will think I’m even more crazy than they already do.”

“You can’t hide this stuff, Y/N! Your brain is important! If the Flame is giving you side effects then you should’ve let my mom and I know.”

You bit your lip, knowing Clarke was right and you shouldn’t have waited so long. “I know. I’m sorry. I just figured there’s more concerning issues at the moment than what’s going on in my head.” You moved back to the couch, settling down with a groan as Clarke watched you.

“Well, can you hear the voice now?” She asked.

“No, usually it happens when I’m trying to sleep. That’s why I haven’t been getting a lot lately.” You told her, continuing your work on your tablet. “Can we just forget I brought this up, at least for now, just until we finished this list?”

Clarke fulfilled your request, both of you working in silence until you let out a yawn a few hours later. You laid down on the couch completely and continue working. Bellamy had shown up eventually, grabbing a tablet and joining you as you started to fall asleep.

You started to shift in your sleep, unknown to Clarke and Bellamy that the voice was making himself known once again. Bellamy looked down at you, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around you. In your sleep, Bellamy’s scent filled your senses, unknowingly making his way into your thoughts as the voice quieted, letting you get in a quick nap.

Clarke was finishing up the list, 98 spots taken and 2 more remained. She looked over to Bellamy, his head falling to the side as he sat on the floor by your head, falling asleep himself. 2 spots left, 3 people in the room.

She turned to the paper, knowing what she had to do.

99. Bellamy Blake

She looked at the last spot, glancing at you before looking outside. If she put her name down, she sentences someone else to death.

She started crying, trying to keep it quiet for the two of you to sleep, but Bellamy heard her and pushed himself up. He spared a glance at you, seeing you face the back of the couch before he walked over to her.

He glanced down at the list, seeing his name as number 99 and spot 100 wide open. “If I’m on that list, you’re on that list.”

“Bellamy I can’t.” She cried out.

“Write it down.” Clarke shook her head. “Write it down or I will.” When Clarke still didn’t move, Bellamy took the pen from her and wrote her name.

100. Clarke Griffin

He hadn’t scanned the list before he wrote it, only knowing Clarke hadn’t put her name down because that was who Clarke was. Letting his eyes read down the list, he felt his heart stop.

“Where’s Y/N?” Clarke didn’t say anything, looking at the list as he asked again. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Bellamy.”

“No. Why isn’t she on here?” He tried to keep himself quiet, but like Clarke and her tears, his voice woke you up.

“Bellamy.”

“Add her. Take my name off and give my spot to her.” He looked to you, feeling his voice crack as Clarke shook her head. “Do it!”

“I can’t!” Clarke tried not to shout to loud, trying not to wake you as they both remained unaware you were listening in. “She’s a liability.”

Bellamy scoffed. “A liability? She’s a liability?” He didn’t know what to say, if anyone deserved to be in the list it was you. You were one of the strongest people he knew, he wasn’t going to let you die, especially if he had to live knowing he was alive instead.

“She’s unpredictable. She could go off and not think about the outcomes. She could create a hostile environment.” You laid on the couch, listening to who you thought was your friend list off reasons as too why you couldn’t be allowed to live. “She’s my friend and I know how you feel about her, but 5 years with the knowledge of what’s she’s done and how’s acted is a long time.”

“You don’t know anything about what she’s done or what she’s been through! I promised her, Clarke. I promised she’d make it through this.” Bellamy slammed his hand on the table and it took everything in you not to jump at the surprise. It was silent for a minute and you heard Bellamy’s deep breaths. “Just take my name off and replace it with hers.”

Clarke stared down at the list. She picked up the pen, crossing out a name and replacing it with yours.

98. Y/N Y/L/N

They both looked at the list, the recently crossed out Kim Ginsberg was now replaced with your name.

“If I’m on the list, you’re on the list.” Clarke repeated Bellamy’s words. You waited for Bellamy to object, knowing if both Clarke and Bellamy were on the last and you were on the list… you just took someone’s shot at survival. Someone who deserved it much more than you. “What now?” Clarke asked Bellamy.

“Now we put it away and hope we never have to use it.”

Clarke smiled. “You still have hope?”

Bellamy looked at you, watching you seemingly sleep peacefully with his jacket as a blanket as he smiled. “We still breathing?” Clarke looked between you and Bellamy, enjoying the soft expression on his face before he turned away from you and squeezed her shoulder. “Get some sleep.” He told her. She nodded as he left, pausing by your side for a second before moving out of the room.

You listened for Bellamy’s footsteps to disappear and heard what sounded like Clarke folding a paper. You slowly turned over, making a little bit of noise as you sat up to let Clarke know you were awake. She was alarmed when you woke up, hoping you had just woken up.

“He’s right you know, you should get some sleep.” You told her as Clarke let her head fall.

“You heard all that.” She wanted a confirmation as you nodded, making her feel even worse. “How much?”

“Enough to know that you need to take my name off that list.”

“Y/N-“

“Don’t. You were right.” You told her. “As much as it hurts to hear, you’re right.”

“What about Bellamy? He’d never forgive me.”

“He’d get over it.” You assured her. You hoped he would. He had to because there was no way you were taking someone else’s spot. You knew Clarke wouldn’t change it right away, but you weren’t going to give on it. “You’ve been in here all day?” you asked her again and received a nod. “So, you wouldn’t happen to know how Floukru’s doing?”

As soon as you brought it up, Clarke and you started towards the med bay. You decided to wear Bellamy’s jacket, finding it comfier than yours at the minute and still smelling like him. You followed Clarke as she entered first.

You both stopped as Clarke slowed down, looking at the dead all covered by blankets. You listened to Luna, hearing her speak to the recently deceased.

“From water you were born, to water you return.”

You pushed past Clarke who stopped to wake her mom as you approached Luna, careful to respect her distance. “Luna?”

She lifted her head, walking in the dark to you, but the moment she stepped into the light, you were shocked. The radiation burns on Luna’s skin were almost gone unlike the rest of her clan, she was still alive.

“Impossible.” Abby whispered once she woke up, seeing what you were.

Raven woke up as well, coming to stand next to you as Clarke stood on your other side. “We didn’t treat her.” Raven pointed out, not believing the radiation burns would subside like this.

Abby checked her over, feeling her fever go down. “Her body’s rejecting the radiation all on its own.” She pulled up a chair for Luna, letting her take a seat. “I’d like to run some tests.” Luna nodded and gave Abby permission. She called Jackson over and the man was as surprised as the rest of you all to see Luna getting better. “There’s only one variable. There’s only one thing that separates Luna from the others.”

Abby looked her daughter, waiting for Clarke to catch on. Once she did, she gasped, turning to see you with wide eyes, having figured it out as well. “Nightblood.”

You all looked at Luna, her eyes moving between yours and Clarke’s as you let out a single chuckle. “From the ashes, we will rise.” You said, repeating the mantra you’ve heard so many times that day.

---

You laid in your bed that night staring at the ceiling. The days events replayed in your brain on a loop, starting from Raven telling you there was only 2 months left before the end of the world all the way to finding out your salvation might not be a bunker or the Ark, but the blood that ran through a living person.

You tried to get to sleep, thankful the voice wasn’t coming back, but maybe that was because you weren’t tired. In all honesty, one aspect of today’s events stuck with you the most.

You climbed out of your bed, slipping your shoes on and grabbing Bellamy’s jacket you still hadn’t returned. No one was in the hallway as you stepped outside, sneaking through the halls until you arrived at the Chancellor’s office. You entered the password on the keypad, hearing the door unlock before you slipped inside. You looked around, finding the tablet you had used earlier on the couch right where you left it. You picked it up, the device powering on and lighting you up in the dark as you swiped through without a care in the world. You opened the Floated file, scrolling down once again until you saw your parents name. This time there wasn’t Clarke here to stop you.

You opened up their files and they popped on the screen simultaneously. You stared at the faces of your parents, a pair of faces you hadn’t seen in10 years. You felt yourself tear up as you fell onto the couch, bringing a hand up to your mouth as tears started down your face. You looked at their pictures just a little longer before moving onto their information. You didn’t need to, in fact the moment you did you wished you would scroll back up and see their faces again, but then something in your dad’s file caught your eye.

Infertile

You looked again, and again, and again until you read the word 100 times but it still made no sense.

The light to room, the one you left off, turned on as you jumped, looking towards the door to see Clarke standing in front of it.

“What are you doing here?” She asked you, noticing the tears in your eyes as she got closer and she began to get worried.

“Clarke? What’s this?” You turned the screen, letting her see your parents’ information on it.

She squinted her eyes. “I’m not sure.” She got closer, making out your parents’ name on the screen before she was even seated. “Is that your parents?”

You nodded your head, wiping away your tears. “Yeah. Yeah it is, but what I want to know is why the hell it says my dad can’t have children.”

“What are you talking about?” Clarke stopped you, knowing however you’re reacting right now was not good.

“I’m talking about this!” you shouted, shoving the device into her hands. You got off the couch, pacing around the room as she read the file, trying to understand. “Clarke, I’m not a doctor. I don’t know what all this is, but he can’t be infertile, right? I mean, he had me!”

“No, no, of course.” She assured you, helping calm your freak out only a little. “It could have been updated after you were born.”

You nodded, taking slow breaths before Clarke’s face fell into one of confusion, looking back at the device. “Clarke?”

“They test before that, for infertility.” She mumbled, remembering her learning of the testing before she was arrested. “If your dad was infertile, he would’ve been tested before you were born.”

You couldn’t process this. You stopped pacing, looking at your friend and talking as slow as you could. “Clarke. What the hell are you trying to tell me?”

“We should talk to my mom.” She tried to rush out of the office, but you grabbed her arm, refusing to look at her in fear letting your tears run loose again.

“Just say it.” You whispered, wanting her to just get it over with. “Say it Clarke!”

“Y/N-“ You snapped your head to her, not stopping the tears as Clarke swallowed back her fears. “Ok.” She began. “Ok…. I think- I think your dad was infertile before you were conceived. I think- I don’t think your dad is your real father.” You didn’t know what to do, you could only stand there listening to Clarke tell you the one thing you were absolutely terrified of. Clarke’s heart ached for you. “I’ll get my mom. She’ll know.” You didn’t feel yourself let go of Clarke, but suddenly she was gone and you were all alone. You could feel your breathing start to increase, your head spinning as you feel to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest and letting out every sob you can that racked through your body. You couldn’t breathe, but you couldn’t focus on that because there was one thought rushing through your head.

Who the hell were you?

A/N: I love feedback!

Tags are Open! Let me know if you want to be added, re-added, removed, or changed!

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @just4muggles @nathaliabakes @colored-confetti @wiseeggspickleslime @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @hollymac79 @delicately-important-trash @emcchi @rauwz @herondalescecilys @chewymoustachio @smilexcaptainx @faith-quake @clarkesplaylist

Bellamy: @jodiereedus22 @mysterioustruffle @danielabetancourth @a-sweet-little-fangirl @bellkadia @werosies

Banished: @strangerliaa @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @abysshaven @poisoned-girl @captainam-erika-trash @annoylinglyaries @peqchynero @buckysjuicyplums @your-typical-giggle @thelastdragon6 @savannah0111 @mckeeee-1 @disneychic8 @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis @oopsiedoopsie23 @crashlyrose @miindfvl @hurricane-abigail @thebookisbtr @txladyj-blog @lauren-100 @mrsjandrews @astroninaaa @broco8 @kittymcdougall12 @capsheadquaters @mikariell95 @acciowinchester @samustar @trashmouth-lizzy @where-are-you-everywhere @smol-book-nerd @cashmereandtears @lilacs-lavender

#Bellamy Blake x reader #Bellamy Blake imagine #Bellamy Blake #Bellamy Blake series #Banished #Banished new part #Part 48 #the 100 #the 100 rewrite #the 100 x reader #the 100 imagine #The Four Horsemen

103 notes · View notes

hypnoticwinter · 4 years ago

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole part 3

When I wake up it's blazingly bright outside and I feel like death. It takes me a couple of moments to realize that my phone is ringing and without looking I reach for it, feel on the side for the power button, flip it around so it's right side up and then swipe to answer it. "Hello?" I croak and I almost laugh at myself, at how awful I sound. Whoever's on the line is going to think I'm super hungover. That'd be my assumption at least, I –

"Miss Dzilenski, where are you?"

Shit.

"Hi, Jim," I tell my editor. I hear him sigh.

"It's two in the afternoon, Roan," he starts. That gets me to perk my ears up.

"Is it? Fuck."

"Roan –"

"God," I groan, rolling over. I bump my foot on the edge of the bedframe. "Ow."

"Where are you?"

I think about lying for a moment then decide against it. "I'm in Gumption," I say, and at least it makes him shut up for a second.

"What the hell are you doing in Gumption? Did I tell you to go to Gumption?"

I hold the phone a little away from my ear. "Alright, Jim," I tell him. "You can drop the J. Jonah Jameson act, I get it."

"Did you at least send in that piece on the water plant downtown? I have that slated for –"

"I haven't even worked on it."

I can hear his blood pressure rising from over the phone. He's going to start making a little whistling sound soon. Steam will be coming out of his ears. "Alright. I've given you too many second chances as it is," he tells me. "If you aren't going to take this job seriously and at least show up on time and pretend to work on what you're supposed to, you can go work somewhere else."

"Okay."

"And don't even think about giving my name as a reference – wait, what?"

"I said okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay as in I quit, Jim," I tell him. I can feel myself getting mad but I stuff it back down.

“You quit! You quit? After all the things I’ve done for you, you just turn around and - !”

I hear Jim splutter for a moment, and then he takes a deep breath. When he speaks again he sounds much more in control of himself. "Roan," he says. I can hear him turning around in his office chair, hunching down so he can feel conspiratorial. There's a lump building in my throat but I ignore it. "What's going on? Are you okay? Are you –"

“I’m fine,” I say.

“Don’t bullshit me,” he says. “I know there’s something going on, you were acting strange on Friday, don’t try to deny it. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Jim, there’s nothing going on.”

“Roan, I’m trying to help you.”

With a deliberate effort I unclench my jaw. Fuck it, I think to myself. "I have HIV, Jim."

His reaction is amusing. Shock first, then sympathy, then rationalizing. "Oh fuck, Roan," he says, "I'm so sorry. Are you doing okay? Do you need any – wait a minute."

"What?"

"Roan, you haven't, I don't know, given up, have you? HIV isn't a death sentence any more, it's not the 80s, there are drugs –"

I can't help it, I laugh. I imagine I must sound pretty insane over the phone to him but it just bursts out of me and then comes pouring out until I'm done. He tries to talk, to get me to stop, but I can't, I can't stop myself.

"Roan," he says finally, when I'm done and I'm taking little gasping breaths that turn into sobs and I feel the tears roiling in my eyes and I ball my fist and hit myself hard in the thigh, cause I'd promised, I'd promised myself I wouldn't cry over this, goddam it – "Roan," he says, "what is it? You don't have AIDS, you're okay. You have insurance, we can figure something out."

"You don't – you don't understand," I tell him. "You remember that time six months ago when I had to go to the hospital?"

"Yeah," he says, confused, "but you were okay, you got a clean bill of health."

"It was a viral infection," I tell him. "And they gave me an antiviral drug to try and treat it, the same one you use to control HIV. Or no, not an antiviral, an antiretroviral, whatever the hell the difference is. Makes the virus inactive but doesn't kill it, because that was too dangerous or something. Fuck, I wish I'd paid more attention when the doctor was explaining it to me."

"And?" he asks. He's getting impatient. Why shouldn't he be? I've held up his day – hell, his life, enough with my bullshit.

"And I went into anaphylactic shock," I tell him. "I'm allergic to it. They had to give me epinephrine and adrenaline and all that shit. It was a near thing. I never told anybody cause I didn't want you guys to worry. But then I started worrying, so I went to the doctor and got myself tested, you know, just in case..."

I can hear him processing that for a moment. "Oh, shit," he says finally.

"Yeah," I say. I wipe my eyes. "So you're wrong," I tell him, "it's a death sentence for me."

"There has to be something –"

"There's not. I got the results back on Thursday. Positive."

"I knew something was wrong, you were acting so differently on Friday. Who'd you get it from? Did you tell –"

"You know who I got it from. And yeah, I called already. Don't worry about it."

"Wait, what are you doing in Gumption, anyway? That's..." I hear him clicking around. "Almost five hundred miles away. What, did you take a plane?"

"Yeah, caught one on Friday."

"Why?"

"I'm investigating. I've got a story."

"Roan," he starts. Something in his tone presses on a weak spot somewhere deep inside of me that has been bending and bending and snaps it.

"Fuck," I growl. He starts to say something then stops. I throw the phone onto the bed. "Fuck!" I scream. It sounds tinny and pathetic, even to my own ears. I want to break something, I want to punch someone. I look at the mirror on the wall and think about it and then scream again, a pathetic, wordless cry of rage. Then I see myself and I stop. I meet my reflection's gaze and then look away. Jim is saying something, his voice a tiny, scratchy creak from where I threw my phone, but I don't care. The anger is slipping out of me.

I look down at my hands and they're shaking. I let my lip curl, then I go back to the bed and pick up the phone again. "Hi," I say after a moment, not thinking of anything better.

"Needed that?" he asks.

"Yeah," I breathe.

"You should come back. We'll figure this out. There's plenty we'll be able to work out."

"No," I tell him. I don't actually think about it at all, I just say it. Zero conscious effort.

"No?" he asks, sounding genuinely confused. "Roan, why the hell not?"

"I'm working on a story," I tell him again.

"What the hell kind of story? If you're in Gumption it's got to be about Mystery Flesh Pit, right?"

"You've heard of it?"

"Of course I've heard of it. Me and my ex-wife went there on our honeymoon. Nice place but a little creepy. Ancient history now, though."

"Oh," I say, feeling a little disappointed. "I'd only just heard of it."

"Roan," he says again, in that gentle little voice that I hate so much, "just come back. Do you need money for a plane ticket? I can –"

"Fuck," I mutter again.

"What is it?"

"Forget it, Jim. Forget I called, forget I said anything, forget I fucking worked at the paper," I tell him. I start to say something, then I stop, shake my head. "I get up every day and I don't do anything meaningful, I'm twenty-six years old and everybody has always told me how much potential I have, how lucky I am that I graduated from a good school and got a job doing something I love and now, now that I know I'm going to die –"

"You were always going to die," he points out.

"Shut the fuck up!" I hiss. "Now that I know I'm going to die, it means nothing, it doesn't matter, I'm nobody, I've done nothing, nothing I do from now on will ever be enough to mean anything."

"That isn't true."

"Yeah, it is. What have I done that's made a lasting impression on – on anything?"

Jim is silent for a moment. I hear him take a breath and blow it out. "When I got divorced," he says finally, "you were the only person at the paper who noticed anything was wrong, and when you followed me when I got off of work that day, you saved my life."

I laugh, then let it trail off when he doesn't join in. "You're serious, aren't you?" I ask.

"Yeah," he grunts. "I was going back home and I was probably going to drink a lot more than I should have, and, you know, getting drunk won't make you happier, it won't change how you feel, it just amplifies it. And I felt like shit. And if I went home by myself I would have just kept drinking and then I really think I would have shot myself. But you made me go to a bar with you and you cut me off after a while and when I got home things didn't seem quite so bad."

I start to say something, then stop myself.

"Anyway," he says, a hint of his usual gruffness creeping back into his voice, "you've made an impact in my life, at least."

"That's why you've given me all those second chances, isn't it?" I ask him. He laughs.

"Yeah," he says. "And because, you know...you aren't actually that much of a burden."

I snort. "Yeah," I say, "right."

"I'm serious."

"Jim, I'm gonna go."

"Come back. We'll sort this."

"Let me do what I have to."

"What do you have to do?" he barks. "Do you even know? Are you just saying that to get me off your back?"

I actually do laugh at that one. "Yeah," I tell him. "Yeah, I am."

"Alright, well...I want to at least see you before you die, if that's what you're so fucking convinced is your fate now."

"You're not treating the invalid very kindly."

"Shut up. I'm giving you a week off with pay, do with it what you will. Tracy and Mike will pick up your column, so don't worry about it."

"You already asked them?"

"I'm the boss, I don't have to ask them. Get your head screwed on straight. Call me as soon as you're back in town."

"Okay, dad."

"Shut up. Take care of yourself."

I'm smiling, even though I don't want to be. "Yeah, alright. You too, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about me. Call if you need anything."

"Thanks." I wait for a moment, then shrug to myself. "I'm sorry I probably fucked up your deadlines for today."

"Don't even worry about it," he tells me. I can practically see him waving his hand magnanimously. "It's not like anybody reads the paper any more anyway."

"See you."

"Take care."

Click and a dial tone. I get up from the bed and stretch, then get naked. I turn the shower on cold and light a cigarette, watch the smoke spiral up into the fan vent on the ceiling. When it gets wet I light another, and then another.

* * *

"You know," Peter says, glancing up at me, "I really didn't think you were actually going to bring dinner."

"What, you thought I'd forget?" I ask him, leaning forward and snatching a fry from the pile next to his elbow. He glares at me and shields them with his hands.

"I said you could have one fry."

"I bought the food, I get as many fries as I want."

"You bought it for me."

"Yeah, you're just borrowing it."

"This is loaned food? When do you want it back?"

He starts making retching noises at me and I cover my ears, make a face at him. "Stop it or I really will throw up," I tell him, "and then you'll have to clean it."

The 7-11 is as empty as Peter had promised, so empty that he's the only employee in the store. I can't stop looking at him and shaking my head in bewilderment and after a while he makes a face at me and asks what my problem is.

"I just still can't quite believe it," I explain, sneaking another fry.

"You could have gotten your own fries."

"When it's during the daytime," I say, ignoring him, taking another drink from my ridiculously large cup of Sprite, "none of this seems like it's real. Like, I look at you and I don't see the same guy I was talking to last night at three in the morning. It all seemed so serious, so life-and-death then, but now it's like, I don't know. Life goes on."

"Everything that's there in the dark is still there in the light."

"Yeah."

“I really am sorry for - you know…”

I give him a wary look. “Well, just don’t do it again and we’ll be fine.”

Peter nods. He seems a little embarrassed about it. He takes another bite of his hamburger and I shake my head at myself. This man had a gun on me last night and I just walked in here with food for him? What the hell are you doing, Roan?

"Thank you for dinner, by the way," he says, and I glance up at him.

"I figured you might want a break from 7-11 food."

"First rule of working at a place that serves food," he tells me, grinning a little. "Don't eat the food."

I laugh at that one. "Alright, fair point."

"I get what you mean," he says after a moment, "about it not feeling real."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's been a long time since I've, you know, actually been down there. Sometimes I forget what it's – what it's really like."

I reach down into my bag and take out the voice recorder, place it on the counter. He stares at it. "I won't record if you don't want me to," I say gently. His eyes flick up to mine.

"You realize," he says after a moment, "that whatever I tell you, if you ever publish it, if you ever put it out there – they'll get you for it."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"I mean it. When you were doing your research, did you see any accounts by survivors? By rangers and park staff? Of the disaster, I mean."

"A couple," I say. "But they were..."

"Yes?"

"Unsatisfying," I finish, shrugging. He laughs.

"Unsatisfying. That's a word for it."

"Are you suggesting they were paid off? Or threatened?" I ask, clicking the voice recorder on. He looks at the tiny blinking red light, then back at me.

"Paid off, scared into silence, threatened, I don't know. Maybe a combination of the three."

"How do you know?"

"They did it with everybody. They did it with me; every ranger I know of got offered a very nice pension if they signed an NDA that had some...unusual stipulations in it."

"Like what?"

"It was just...very specific. Very far-reaching. And as far as I'm aware most NDAs out there don't make any vague threats to your friends or family."

"Are you serious?"

"Lady," he says, spreading his arms, giving me a disbelieving little smile, "after everything you've seen, you think I'm making any of this up?"

"I'm just trying to – I'm sorry, I don't want to imply that I don't believe you, it's just that, you know..."

"It's a little extreme. Yeah, I know."

"Did you sign it?"

"Didn't really give me a choice."

"I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

"Well, I mean, they gave me a choice – either sign it and get some hush money and live a nice, peaceful, quiet life, or don't sign it and live with the paranoia. There are a couple of online forum type sites for ex-rangers and park staff that I used to frequent and one of the guys there, someone I knew, actually, he didn't sign it."

"And?"

"You ever heard of gangstalking?"

"I haven't."

He reaches up, massages his chin through his beard. A nervous tic or something. Outside on the road a car trundles past and we both watch it go by. "The thing about it was, it would have been hard to prove that it was something organized. He started posting in kind of a diary format, every day at around seven or eight in the evening. He lived in, uh, I think Missouri, one of those states up north, so it was a way different climate but the same time zone. He said that he'd see people watching him, different people every time, although after a while he thought it might have been the same group of eight or so people wearing different outfits, wigs, things like that. He'd notice them staring at him if he turned around quickly, or he'd see a strange car he'd never seen before parked opposite his house."

"How credible was he?"

"When I worked with him I'd have trusted anything he told me."

"And afterwards?"

"How do you mean?"

"You said 'when you worked with him.' Does that mean you wouldn't have trusted him once you weren't working together any more?"

"I think that something must have been going on. I don't know for sure. He got erratic very quickly once he started posting about it, he wasn't getting enough sleep, he'd see ghosts everywhere."

"Sounds like he was paranoid."

"Paranoia's only paranoia if it's unfounded."

"How does that story end?"

"Two weeks after, he got hit by a car. Died on the way to the hospital."

“Hit and run?” I ask. Peter nods.

“They never found the guy who did it.”

"Could have been a coincidence."

"The idea is that that’s what you're supposed to think that."

I blow a breath out. His eyes flash.

"I told you you'd regret staying," he tells me, and I roll my eyes at him.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," I assure him. "And even if I can't use this in a story," I say, tapping the recorder, "who knows what things will be like in ten years? In twenty?"

"You're going to sit on it for that long?"

"Well, I –" I start, and then stop. He looks at me strangely. Of course I was going to say something like 'well, I’ll be dead but whoever I give my data to might' but I don't want to open up another can of worms. "I don't know," I finish, lamely, and we both know I'm not giving him the full truth, but he doesn't press me.

Peter looks like he's in his early to mid thirties but I haven't asked him his age. We've kept things pleasantly anonymous so far, which we both seemed to agree was the best way to do things. I don't know his family name; he doesn't know my name at all.

I can tell from the way he looks at me that he still thinks I don't know what I'm getting myself into. Sure, he might have a point, but I think I've at least demonstrated my resolve by now.

"Look, whatever," he says, taking another bite of the hamburger I got him. He wipes his upper lip with his thumb, still holding the burger. "I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into."

"I know."

"So what do you want to know?" he asks me. "Where do you want to start?"

"Start at the beginning," I suggest. So he does.

* * *

Peter got hired at the Mystery Flesh Pit in the middle of 1999, right after several other rangers had quit and they were offering incentives for transfers from other parks. Previously he'd been working with the Outward Bound group in the Boundary Waters in Minnesota, where he'd gone to school, and although the hiring call was mainly interested in other, experienced rangers, Peter caught their attention because he'd been present as an assistant guide when a previous Outward Bound group went through the Mystery Flesh Pit, with special permission from the park administration, a rather historic first for both organizations. Prior to this, the largest expedition groups that had gone through the Mystery Flesh Pit together were some of the initial mining teams that explored it back in the 70s.

The Outward Bound excursion had gone relatively uneventfully, with the exception of one cell of the 20-strong group picking a bad place to camp one night and nearly drowning inside their tents when a flood of gastric juices submerged them and began leaking in through a patch in the side of the tent that later proved to have been made using thread that wasn't acid-resistant. Although the three boys and the one counselor inside the tent weren't killed, they suffered acid burns on close to seventy percent of their bodies that required emergency evacuation to the medical center in the Lower Visitor Center, which, Peter explained, was a relatively rare occurrence. From there, the four injured members of the group were taken to the local hospital and treated, while the rest of the group continued on their excursion without any further issues. Peter had been one of the first members of the group to respond to the calls for help from the trapped cell, and had cut the tent open and assisted the guide ranger present in lifting the four people inside to safety, and it was this connection, and more specifically, this immediate willingness to put himself in harm's way to save others, that Peter claimed was the deciding factor in his application.

Although he started out with fairly mundane work at the Flesh Pit, leading tour groups and manning desks in the Visitor Center, specifically, his skill with bushcraft – or whatever the hell the word ought to be for the Pit - lead to a rapid series of promotions until he was one of a tight-knit crew of patrol rangers who would venture far beyond the relative safety of the lighted and fenced walking trails to respond to calls of distress, reports of animal or fungal activity, and in a few rare cases, fugitives reported to be hiding somewhere within the pit. Like most National Parks, Peter explained, Mystery Flesh Pit was big, and the sheer scale of it wasn't obvious until you'd been down inside of it, due to the majority of it being covered by the earth, and the top-side area of the park being relatively small compared to the underground bulk of it. Just like other National Parks, it was a vast area of relatively undisturbed and unobserved wilderness, which meant that, for criminals with strong stomachs, it was a good place to hide out. Although, he admitted, they retrieved far more of these criminals dead than alive. Some of them, he mentioned, they were never able to retrieve at all.

"What are the main hazards, down there in the Pit?" I asked him, and he shook his head and blew his breath out, then started to count on his fingers. One, dehydration, since the air in there is thick and humid and will leach the moisture out of you if you aren't wearing a closed-circuit suit. Two, digestion, since it's incredibly easy to slip and fall into one of the numerous sacs, gullets, craws, or other redundant and often inexplicable digestive organs dotted throughout the Pit, and although a ranger suit is acid-resistant it isn't acid-proof. If you're quick enough you might be able to piton your way out before you and everything on you becomes far too slippery for use, and then if that happens you'd better radio for help and pray someone gets to you fast. Double this risk if you're exploring somewhere there aren't maps, or where the maps are outdated. Most of the organs, he said, close to the Visitor Center, for perhaps a five-mile radius, are marked and blocked off, but those coverings can be damaged, or new ones can grow, given enough time. And if you go beyond that...

"There be monsters," I suggested.

He laughed. "That's number three," he told me. For the Pit is home to a vast menagerie of extremely strange creatures, invertebrate and vertebrate alike, which can be found in no other place. He tells me about things like the abyssal copepod, a gigantic crustacean roughly the size of an elephant, which can be found slithering and scraping in the deepest recesses of the Pit, some ancient off-shoot of the ordinary ocean-going copepod line, which normally is so small that it can't be seen with the naked eye. He lists off a dozen creatures with strange, suggestive names that call fantastic images and assumptions to my mind, things like a venous shamble, a ballast siren, a cloistropod, an amorphous shame. Some of these, like the copepods and the macrobacteria, I'd read of on Wikipedia, when I'd done my initial research on the Pit, but others are alien to me.

Most of these things, he tells me, although relatively large – Pit gigantism was a well-studied and observed phenomenon – were shy, retiring creatures, opportunistic feeders and scavengers, preying on terrene wildlife unfortunate enough to stumble into the Pit. Although, he corrects himself, some are helped to stumble. I frown at that and ask him what he means, and he tells me that some of the larger creatures migrate through the Pit in cycles related to breeding or to the phase of the moon, although how they can possibly tell what phase the moon is in from down in the Pit's guts, he can't say. And some of the larger, more aggressive ones, the copepods and the shambles and something that he refers to only as a 'leechman' (and waves away my question as to what the hell a leechman might be), they do sometimes venture up to the surface and pull things in.

I sat there and processed that for a while and then asked the obvious question: "But why the hell did you let them? There's only the one entrance to the Pit and there must be so many eyes on it..." I started, and then trailed off, for the obvious answer occurred to me, and he saw the look on my face and nodded.

"What I'm about to tell you," he said to me, "you cannot tell anyone. It’s not something They want people to know."

"But what's so odd about it having –"

"Of course it isn't odd that there's more than one orifice. That's a given. Who knows how many more are buried beneath miles of rock? Who knows the shape of the thing down there?" he said, pointing down at the floor. Without even really thinking about it I flexed my feet through my high-tops; the ground felt solid, unyielding. "What They don't want anybody knowing," he said, leaning in a little to me, "is where those orifices are. How far they are from the fence around the Pit."

I felt an indescribable knot of dread clench inside my stomach. I was confronting something I had already known, something I had suspected but had been unwilling to put a conscious voice to, even inside my own head.

"Miles," he whispered. "Dozens of miles. Almost eighty, the furthest one we know about."

"Eighty miles," I murmured, thinking of it. "It must be huge, enormous; it must –"

"There are containment buildings around each one, disguised as warehouses, construction sites, power plants, things like that. In the 70s they tried to seal them up but..."

"But what?"

"Let's just say it – the Pit – didn't like that."

I frowned. "But I never read anything about –"

"This was back in the 70s. They kept a tighter grip on things. When they integrated with the National Park Service, there was a lot less of that. You can't keep as much information hidden in a huge bureaucracy like that – unless it's something really serious, of course. Like, say, what happened on July 4th. This event in the 70s, it was way less tough. Nobody died, nobody got hurt, but people, especially people in leadership positions, they got scared. Took steps to make sure it wouldn't happen again."

I guess we know how that turned out.

He told me the whole story, his story, not that of the park, not really. They touch and intersect and intermingle but I got much more of a sense of his relationship with it, with the park, with the people he worked with, with the gigantic animal that made up its walls and caverns, than just a history lesson with dry facts repeated on end until I was bored to tears. He told me of the terrible things he'd seen and on some occasions of the terrible things he'd done; of the time when he found a man with his leg gnawed off by a venous shamble, a slithering, snakelike, hissing thing that only attacks when cornered and otherwise lurks in the shadows of arterioles and veins, darting out to snatch a wayward macrobacterium or lesser copepod from time to time. He told me of the terrible fear and sickness he'd felt, watching the poor man, an unhealthy-looking fellow in his fifties in a gaudy rented tourists' suit, moaning weakly while the shamble had probed the ripped mess of his thigh with its feeding tubules, drawing forth gobbets of still-living flesh with a horrible sucking sound that Peter confessed haunted him late at night sometimes. He'd drawn his service pistol and put five bullets into the shamble before it had retreated and had had to force himself not to put a sixth into the man.

He told me of a time where he and a colleague had pursued a rapist from a ballast bulb down into a service access that opened into the raw, wet, pink wilderness of the Pit. Ordinarily it was sealed and locked but they had been doing maintenance on it and it was left shut but unlocked, and the rapist had gotten it unsealed and vanished into the darkness with no equipment, no light, no nothing. He had slipped on the helmet to his suit and gotten ready to pursue the man, but his colleague, his direct superior, a short, fiery head ranger he referred to only as Makado, had stopped him, and held his gaze with her steely eyes while she reached out and sealed the maintenance hatch, trapping the man out there, and then called on the general channel on the radio, instructing all the maintenance teams to double-check whatever hatches they'd used when they got back in. The rapist was never seen again.

"What's ballast?" I asked him when he was through with that story. He looked at me with a clever but curiously earnest gaze, as though he wanted my approval. He wanted, I realized belatedly, for me to tell him he'd done the right thing. He must have never told anybody this story before. And for good reason, since his inaction made him an accessory to murder. By this point it was seven at night, and I'd replaced the SD card in my voice recorder already. I had no judgment in me. I looked at him with wide, careful eyes, and an understanding passed between us, but I don't know if he understood what I understood.

Ballast, he told me, was a substance produced by the creature, by the Permian Basin Superorganism, a sort of magical panacea that the eggheads, in his words, thought was related to the thing's endocrine system and was involved in balancing its hormones. In humans, though, it partially reversed the effects of aging, provided an energy boost, had curative properties, and was a fearsomely powerful aphrodisiac. He told me of the ballast bulbs, vast pools of the stuff, secreted through whatever process, taken and pumped upwards into watered-down pools of it, a large infinity-pool at 5% concentration, and then progressively cozier ones with higher percentages, marketed as adult-only.

I’d seen references to this feature when I was doing my research but I hadn’t really believed it.

"There's no way the government was down with that," I told him, but he'd shrugged, said that it had been the main draw to the place back in the Anodyne days, that once the NPS took over they'd tried to de-emphasize and phase out that attraction but the pushback had been so uniform, widespread, and aggressive that the Powers That Be had eventually thrown up their hands and said 'alright, you damn monkeys, you want your aphrodisiac pools and anonymous sexual encounters? Fine! Don't get cum in the pool filters!'

His words, not mine. I asked if they still took the ballast out of the thing and sold it and he shrugged, said he thought they did but in much smaller volumes than in the past.

"Was it always just for medical purposes or did they, you know...could I like, go down to the store and buy a thing of ballast?"

"No," he shook his head, "it wasn't quite like that. They did put it in certain products though, seasonal stuff...did you ever have a Coke Heartthrob?"

My mouth fell open and then I shut it while I tried to think of how to answer that question. I saw his eyes dart down to my cheeks as I felt them start to prickle and he had the grace to blush as well and look away from me. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, "I didn't mean to...bring up memories."

I'd lost my virginity due in part to a Coke Heartthrob. I hadn't thought of it in years, ever since they'd discontinued it. I never knew why. I never knew what they put in it. I remember googling "when did coke get rid of heartthrob" at some point in 2009 and found out that 2007 was the last year they'd had it for sale. I went around feeling oddly nostalgic and disappointed for a couple of days until I forgot about it; I'd never known...

Whenever I thought of it I thought of the warm, fuzzy rush it gave me, not enough for any major high or anything but just a pleasant rush of pins and needles all down my body in waves, converging on my groin, turning into a vague heat and then into a throb along with my heartbeat. It certainly made me more...uninhibited, back then, seventeen, after school in the chorus room, that first time. Maybe he'd known what it would do to me, but I certainly hadn't, and even if I had I wouldn't have felt taken advantage of. He didn't have to buy me a Coke to get me eager the second or the third time. Or the fourth. Or the fifth, sixth, seventh...

I shook my head. “Curative properties,” I said. “What does that mean?”

“Miracle healing, they called it in the old days,” he said. “Some of that was exaggeration, but some of it wasn’t. Promotes cellular regeneration, as far as I’m aware, which is why it helps with aging. The aphrodisiac effect is actually just a byproduct.”

“Cellular regeneration,” I muttered. “So it could help you…regrow a lost limb?”

“I don’t know, maybe. They tested it but I’ve never heard a story about someone growing back a finger or an arm or something like that.”

I gave him a little grunt. I’d have to come at this obliquely so it isn’t obvious what my interest is. “What about diseases?” I asked. “Something like…I don’t know, polio, or HIV?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I was just a ranger. Maybe it could have, but I’m not sure.”

Well. A maybe is better than a no. This man is in the business of sneaking people into the Pit, maybe he could get me in as well. And if I were able to dodge the wildlife and not get - get eaten, either by the creatures or the surroundings, maybe I could…

Peter said something and disrupted my train of thought. I blinked at him and asked him what it was, and he said that my phone was ringing and, sure enough, when I actually paid attention to it I heard it vibrating in the front pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out just in time to miss the call; my dad, trying to call me back. I stared at it then put it back in my pocket, returned my attention to Peter.

"Did you need to take that?"

"No," I assured him. "Please, continue."

The Pit wasn't horrible. He made very sure to stress that to me. It was the best place he'd ever worked, something more than a job, more like a calling. He felt at home in the bronchial canals and the tubules and ventricles and aortas and what the hell ever else the thing has down there. There was, he explained, a scenic beauty to it equal to the likes of the mountains of Colorado or the Black Hills or the Badlands, or the endless forests of Minnesota, just a different sort of beauty, one that wasn't eager to share itself with the casual observer. The ordinary person, he explained, goes down the Flesh Pit expecting a horror show, wanting to be disgusted, to be terrified, to treat it like a thrill ride at a carnival. They can't get out of that mindset and everything seems horrible to them, from an innocuous herd of macrobacteria trampling along outside a fenced-off path to their habitual feeding ground, to a vast air-filled bladder with calcium deposits like stalagmites crenellating inwards like the spikes on an iron maiden.

"If you made up your mind before you went and saw it," he told me, "if you didn't even try to appreciate the Pit for what it is, you'd never come back. You'd go once and be grossed out and you wouldn't get what the fuss was about. But it can...it can touch you. It's the last wilderness on Earth," he asserted, a far-off, dreamy look in his eyes. While he's talking about the Pit he doesn't look nearly as tired and worn-down and dreary as he does normally. Something about it still animates him, fuels his sense of wonder. While he talks I find myself pondering, briefly, whether or not there's anything at all in my life I'm that passionate about.

He's halfway through telling me about a chyme deposit he found once ("what's chyme?" I ask; "half-digested food," he tells me. I almost make a face but I remember what he told me about going into the pit with preconceived notions and control myself) that had transformed over what must have been months in a digestive gland from a pile of deer carcasses into a pile of delicate, frilly, ribbon-like, waxy material that crumbled to dust when he touched it. Indigestion, Makado had explained when he told her about it, but something about its delicacy, about its uniformly rich creamy color, a symbol, at least in his mind, of purity amid the rugged, flesh-toned, vein-scored surroundings of the Pit, had touched him deeply.

My recorder makes a beeping noise to tell me that the third SD card is full. I check my bag; I have two left. Peter stretches, smiles at me.

"I need a smoke," he says, nodding towards the door. "Let's take a break."

We take a break.

* * *

I'm only on my second cigarette when the car pulls up. Peter's still on his first. The sun is cracking like an egg, bleeding over the hills that backdrop the town and casting warm orange light on both of our faces. The car drives up slowly, a big black SUV, looking better maintained than any of the other cars I've seen in town. No giant rust spots, no dents, no bumps, not even a burned-out headlight. It's dark enough that I can't make out who's driving. They pull crosswise along three spaces, horizontal to us, and roll down the passenger window.

Inside is a small, fragile-looking woman, maybe around thirty-five or forty. Her face is lined but still fair and her hair is long and black. Dark eyes, severe mouth. "Hello Peter," she says, her eyes flicking over to me. "Who's your friend?"

"My name's Roan," I tell her before Peter can answer. "Who's asking?"

She smiles at me faintly. "Erica Walken," she says, as though it ought to mean something to me. I stare back at her, take special care not to move my facial muscles an inch. I let the silence stretch out and when I feel it ought to snap I nod at her.

"Good to meet you," I say.

Peter shifts next to me. He's uncomfortable. Obviously he knows Erica. She turns her attention to him and I sneak a glance at him out of the corner of my eye under the pretense of taking a drag of my cigarette and meet his eyes as he sneaks a glance at me. He looks away quickly but not before giving me a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Erica asks.

"No," Peter says quickly, stepping forward, closer to her car. "Roan was just waiting for a ride."

"Oh, do you need a ride? I wouldn't mind dropping you off somewhere," Erica suggests, smiling at me. It isn't a malicious smile but I've found that the people who mean to do you harm rarely tell you they're going to do so. There's a prickle at the base of my stomach, a fragment of worry that I've learned to listen to. I shake my head.

"My mom always warned me about taking rides with strangers," I tell Erica, keeping my tone neutral.

"Suit yourself," she says, without even an ounce of attitude. Her eyes flick like roulette balls, fix on Peter. "Can we have a chat?" she asks him.

"Sure," he says, leaning in the window.

"Alone," she clarifies.

I roll my eyes at the theatrics, put the cigarette out in the ashcan. "I'll be inside," I tell Peter, and force myself not to glance back even though I can feel two sets of eyes on me as I traipse in the 7-11, let the door bang shut behind me.

Their conversation doesn't take long. Five minutes max. At one point she pulls out her phone to show him something. I can't get a good look at it but it looks like a picture of somebody. I'm too far away to make out who, and I don't want to be overt about my snooping. When they're done she drives off and Peter stands there staring after her for a moment before coming back in. He looks troubled.

"Who was that?"

"Erica," he shrugs. "She's with the cult."

I almost get soda up my nose. "Excuse me?" I ask, once I've recovered. "Did I hear you correctly?"

"Did you pay for that soda?"

"All this time and I'm not entitled to a free soda?"

"It's three bucks."

"Three bucks for a 20-ounce? And wait, hang on, what the hell do you mean by 'the cult?' There's a cult?"

"You didn't think there'd be a cult?"

I give him a deadpan look. "No, sorry, of course, I should have assumed that as soon as I entered Gumption I was suddenly going to be in a Lovecraft story. Do we have fish people as well somewhere?"

He doesn't get the reference. I think of explaining it to him but I really, really don't feel like I have enough energy for that. I wave his confused look aside. "What the hell does the cult want? Are they – what the fuck," I finish. I have too many questions, they're all zipping around all at once. "Are you with the cult?" I ask, finally, giving him a wary look.

"No!" he says quickly, glancing around as though he's afraid all of the nobody inside of the empty store with us might overhear. "I'm not with the cult," he hisses. "Don't worry."

"Is this something I need to be concerned about?"

"Just – look, they're harmless. Just a bunch of crazies who fell victim to the common human need to submit to a higher power. They chose the Pit, that's all. That's it."

"So why's it a cult? Are they mixing the kool-aid right now? Is this place going to be Waco 2 in a couple of weeks?"

"Christ, it isn't that crazy. They just get a little – there's this thing they do. They're secretive. Invite-only. Exclusive group and everything. They do a ripoff spirit journey when you get in, if you're serious about it and you pass their tests. Have to go down the Pit, hang out there for two, three days, come back with some kind of transcendent experience. All I do is help smuggle their initiate in whenever they've got a new one along with the other batch of crazies." He shakes his head. "Those poor motherfuckers."

"What did you mean the other night when you said you had been one of them?" I ask. I'd been waiting all night to ask it but there had never seemed to have been a good moment up until just now. I reach out with a deft motion and click the voice recorder back on. He looks at me and for a moment I wish I were a photographer, not just a hack with a DSLR I got off Ebay. "I don't want you to –" he starts, and then stops. I groan at myself internally, then reach out, lay my hand gently atop his, fingers apart, not clutching, just human contact. He looks at my hand and then back at me.

"I'm not judging you," I tell him. "I want to understand."

He considers that for a moment. He rubs his eyes, then nods. "Okay," he says.

He tells me about July 4th.

Continue with Part 4

Back to Table of Contents

#writing #mystery flesh pit

29 notes · View notes

laufire · 5 years ago

Text

The 100 7x01

I spoiled myself to hell and back before watching the episode (that’s how I’m planning to watch this entire season, ngl), and I was a little skeptical about certain things I’d seen in the tags. Namely people going about Raven “making up” to Clarke, apologizing to her for s6, being “dragged” by Murphy or whatever. After watching the episode? I’m ASTONISHED at how little is enough for some stans LMFAO. Raven didn’t do any of those things?? The “I’m sorry” was about putting her foot in her mouth by saying “mothers and daughters” in front of Clarke, being friendly with her was about sharing grief and managing Sanctum’s problem and never framed as “making up for her behavior” (there was ZERO condemnation about Raven in s6), Murphy’s “Miss Morality” was immediately counteracted by her answer... It was literally a bone thrown their way after all their complaints so they’d interpret it as they wanted to and shut up, and it was a terrible bone at that. Seeing it made me feel better about the supposed ~spoilers about Raven’s s7 plot tbh. That even things that can be interpreted as they are doing are going to come across differently on screen.

Once that’s out of the way: I loved the rest of Raven’s part in the episode, with her telling Memori to step up as Primes to get Sanctum under control, bragging about it, going around strateging about their compound, BEING RIGHT ABOUT SHEIDHEDA, casually joking about A.L.I.E., etc. And god, I have missed her classic look so, so much. I was mesmerized by her this whole episode. That James Wonkru/Skaikru dude competed for Most Relatable Character on the show when he saw her and said “thank god!” xDD

Speaking off, Memori as con-artists/Fake Gods was amazing LMAO. Especially Emori doing research by reading Kaylee’s journal! My girl. LOL at her joy about living in a palace (shame Clarke had to screw that up lol). And look, if Sanctum is going to be weirded out about two supposed gods committing “incest”, they should’ve read the fine print in their “cult followers” contract, okay xD. I’m not all there with Murphy’s “guilt” plot (it’s just repetitive and masturbatory af), so I hope he gets something else to do soon. Preferably while getting eye-liner back, just sayin’ (after watching a couple of Richard Harmon’s scenes in Van Helsing I’ve decided that styling department should go to The 100 and dress him up all the time, btw).

The “Bellamy disappears and Echo & co go after him” was a very small plot within the episode. I loved Echo’s part --I’ve seen how people are interpreting her hallucination and rolling my eyes, but I liked it. Here for Echo shooting Roan as a placeholder for her insecurities xD. She also proved once again what a great strategist she is (figuring out the mysterious attackers non-lethal intentions and how to neutralize them, overcoming the hallucination, etc.) and how things would just be better with her leading, just saying :P (I really hope the “without someone to follow, who are you?” line is leading up to that). I’m also very glad that Russell destroyed Priya’s drive right away --that ought to kill that godawful “theory”, right?? LOL.

I don’t know how I feel about Hope yet (other than being bored af by how often this name pops up ugh) but there were a few moments where I could see Diyoza in her (now I want McCreary xDD). I want either confirmed or plausible Diyoza/Octavia out of this co-parenting storyline, btw xD. And I already liked Gabriel just fine from last season, but seeing him in the middle of an attack, in what seemed to be immediate danger to his life, and still focused on how ~fascinating the anomaly is was hilarious and made me like him even more. I like those types okay xD. I now want him and Raven to talk about the anomaly & weird science (oh look, new rarepair the fandom might annoy me convenience shipping smh).

Another highlight (and contestant to most relatable character) was Indra avoiding awkward family talk by focusing on her soup xD. She was gr10 this episode. Please @ show give Adina Porter more material this season.

I’ve seen speculation about Clarke and Gaia getting together and I don’t know how I feel about it. I definitely see where the speculation comes from, between the co-parenting Madi, Clarke being so grateful to her, the ~lingering soft looks, Clarke explicitly dismissing Clarke/Lexa in front of her (“seems like another world”)... And on the one hand, it’d be SUCH a calculated strike from the writers part that I am almost in awe of it. OTOH... I like Gaia xD. I don’t want her to become Clarke’s supporting partner, especially with all the implications that might come from it. On a third hand, by pursuing Gaia, Clarke would show the best taste she’s had so far in the show LMAO (I’m not counting Niylah here, because Clarke never deigned to treat her as anything but a safety net, lbr).

Is this show really saying that Clarke never asked Madi about her bio-parents LMFAO. Between this and the shock collar, Madi really drew the short straw, huh? At least she now has a cute dog and comfy clothes.

So Sheidheda is now in Russell’s body (kinky. Especially with him feeling the need to mention he prefers the current over the original one lol). Okay. Was he airdropped on him?? LMAO. Honestly I only care about this in so far as I can keep calling the character Something Something Chris Argent and because I like the actor xD. Anyway, he’s probably going to have a field day, between how easy it was for him to fool Clarke and how a sizeable part of Sanctum will go to the end of the Earth for “him”.

I hate how stereotypically Eligius’ prisoners are written tbh. In any case, they’re right: if they’re building the compound, they better get to be a part of it, just saying (the implications about prison labor in all this storyline back from s5 itself that the show is likely just going to ignore smh).

“Who knew putting a broken society back together would be hard work”. Like I always say with Sanctum-cult related nonsense: where’s Blodreina when you need her xDD. Next episode is called “The Garden” and the synopsis references “Hope’s mysterious past”, so hopefully it’ll be about Diyoza and Octavia. It seems they got scenes from early on for the promo so it’s probably where the “WHY AREN’T WE ENOUGH?” romantic-coded as fuck line comes from LOL. BTW, the Hope & Octavia hallucination? Gave me so many Aurora-Octavia feels omg.

30 notes · View notes

kittenshift-17 · 4 years ago

Note

Inspired by songs #15 there's just no one that gets me like you do for the 100's Roan x Clarke too pleaseplease

Clarke sighed when she spied Roan on the outskirts of Polis. He was alone, sitting with his back to the city and looking out over the forest. Tri-kru land, Clarke thought, frowning at his back and supposing he must not be the only one struggling with the discussion that’d taken place within the Council. Quietly, she moved around the rock he’d claimed and lowered herself down until she was sitting beside him, her elbow just barely brushing his. For a long time, neither of them said anything. The morning’s meeting with Lexa’s council hadn’t gone well for either of them and Clarke was tired. Too tired for idle chatter. And fortunately, Roan most decidedly was not the chatty type. It was one of the things she liked most about him.

“What’re you doing here?” Roan asked after a little while, his gruff voice quiet in the late afternoon heat and Clarke noticed that the sounds of the city at their back seemed drowned out by the bird songs and the sounds of the wind in the trees amid the forest before them. It almost made her long to disappear into them and never return. Days like today, she missed the months she’d spent on the run, even if she had been lonely.

“Thinking,” Clarke shrugged, her elbow brushing Roan’s again as she did so, though he didn’t seem to mind for he didn’t pull away.

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. “Shit of a meeting.”

“Shit of a responsibility,” Clarke agreed.

Roan snorted. “Aren’t they all?” he murmured.

Clarke sighed, nodding and trying to let some of the tension tightening her shoulders fade away, trying to think about something else for a little while.

“You busy tonight?” Roan asked a while later, squaring his shoulders and beginning to slide down off their shared rock.

“Depends,” Clarke said, glancing at him when he turned back to look at her. “What’ve you got in mind?”

Roan jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the forest and raised his eyebrows at her, silently waiting for her answer like he always did. Half the time Clarke wondered if he’d always been this stoic, or if his time in exile had turned him into such a gruff, standoffish and frequently mute man. What was more, she wondered how someone could convey so much of their meaning without having to open their mouth. It was quite impressive.

“It’ll be dark soon,” Clarke frowned, noting the rapidly sinking sun on the horizon, disappearing below the line of trees.

“So?” Roan shrugged. “Not like either of us haven’t spent a few nights in the darkness...”

Clarke supposed he had a point, shrugging her shoulders and nodding before sliding down the rock as well. Roan still stood at the foot of it, not moving aside to give her room and she was surprised to suddenly find herself very much insider his personal space. She blinked up at him for a moment, noticing the furrow of his brow and the serious glint in his blue eyes. Before she could think of anything to say - impossible with her stomach suddenly in knots and her heart skipping a beat - Roan stepped back and turned away, striding into the forest without looking back. Glancing over her shoulder, Clarke followed him.

For a long time, they simply walked in silence, skirting around the occasional Grounder trap laid by Tri-kru determined to keep the other krus off their land. She didn’t know where Roan was taking her or what he had in mind, but if she was being honest, she didn’t really care. She was so tired of responsibility. So tired of having to think of her people, and having to worry about the other krus, and having to constantly try to figure out ways to keep the Grounders from killing the people of Skai-Kru. For once, she just wanted to be selfish and think only about what she wanted and what she needed to do to keep herself alive.

It was well after dark when Roan led her around a thick copse of trees and they came across what looked like a house leftover from The Before. Clarke frowned when Roan walked right up the stairs and into the house as though unconcerned that it might be occupied, or that Tri-kru might have it under guard. When no sounds of fighting came from inside, Clarke followed him, finding him crouched by the fireplace and feeding wood into it, providing light in the otherwise dark and messy house. There wasn’t much left inside it of value, except the frame of an old futon that’d been re-made with a sagging mattress stolen from – by the look of it – the remains of the Ark.

“What is this place?” she asked, looking around curiously in the low glow from the small fire he’d coaxed to life.

“Haunted, if you ask Tri-kru,” Roan smirked over his shoulder at her.

“Why do they think that?”

“Because for a while there, when people came in, they didn’t come back out alive,” Roan answered quietly.

“This is where you holed up while you were in exile?” Clarke guessed, knowing better after all she’d seen, than to believe in ghosts.

Roan nodded, feeding more wood into the fire.

“Didn’t want company?” she guessed.

“Tri-kru didn’t like having me on their land,” he shrugged his shoulders before her rose to his feet and moved over to sit on the edge of the futon, pulling a few of his weapons off and setting them on the floor.

Hesitantly, Clarke followed suit, sitting beside him and removing her small pack from her back.

“Think they’ll miss us?” Roan asked, surprising her when he flopped backwards and stretched out, his hands curled behind his head while he stared at the ceiling.

“Probably,” Clarke said quietly, watching him for a few minutes before sighing and copying his posture, spreading her long blonde hair out over the mattress and lying down. “God, I’m tired.”

“Uneasy lies the head…” Roan agreed quietly.

“That wears the crown,” Clarke finished for him, noting idly that one of his hands moved to toy with her hair where it stretched toward him on the mattress. “Sometimes I wish you’d never caught me and dragged me before the coalition.”

Roan chuckled.

“Me too,” he said, though if he hadn’t, he’d still be banished. “Well… maybe not that I hadn’t caught you. Should’ve just kept you all to myself.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows, turning to look at him in surprise while her stomach flipped excitedly at the unexpected assertion. Roan didn’t meet her eyes; too busy watching his fingers carding through her loose tresses.

“Kept me where?” she asked quietly, intrigued.

Roan shrugged. “Could’ve kept moving. Could’ve found a place. I was banished for years. I’ve got hidey holes all over this area – every territory, all krus.”

“Do they all think those places are haunted?” she asked.

Roan’s mouth twitched.

“Most knew I’d been banished and most other krus hate the Ice Nation. They all figured out it was me after a while. Some thought to take my power and kill me,” he shrugged his shoulders. “They never tried a second time.”

Clarke sighed heavily, closing her eyes and relaxing once more, the feel of his fingers in her hair lulling her toward sleep.

“It was easier on the run,” she whispered.

“Only caring about your own survival is a lot easier than worrying about the survival of thousands,” he agreed.

“You regret being made King, then?” Clarke guessed.

Roan didn’t answer, though beside her she felt him moving, shifting around on the mattress. She blinked her eyes open in surprise when his free hand smoothed across her hips before he rolled to pillow his head on her stomach, curling his arm around her.

“I’d give up the crown and disappear if I could,” he confessed to the underside of her breasts and unbidden, Clarke found her own fingers sliding into his hair in silent comfort. “But if I do, who will lead them?”

“Ontari,” Clarke answered. “She’ll challenge Lexa as Heda and make Ice Nation a tyrant kru subjugating all others, or even killing them for sport.”

“Like I said,” Roan grumbled. “I’d give it up, if I could.”

Clarke hummed in agreement, her eyes closing once more while her fingers played in his hair, finding surprising comfort there, simply pressing against him. How could it be that this man she hardly knew could make her feel so at ease. She couldn’t remember being so at ease with anyone else – not even with Wells and her family aboard the Ark before she’d been old enough to understand responsibility.

“What about you, Wanheda?” Roan asked her after a long stretch of silence that made her think he’d fallen asleep.

“What about me?” she hummed curiously in reply.

“You want to run away into the wilderness?” Roan asked. “Or are you happy playing lover to Heda and governing your people?”

Clarke wondered how he knew about her and Lexa, but she didn’t ask.

“If I run, who will keep the Grounders from killing my people?” she asked.

“Me,” he muttered.

“What point would there be in going without you?” Clarke asked in the dark, her voice but a whisper that she wasn’t even sure Roan heard.

“Heda?” he suggested another alternative, rather than acknowledging her soft words.

“Not without me here,” Clarke answered. “Not if I wasn’t…”

Roan lifted his head from her stomach and leaned over her, peering into her face, his chest pressing to hers. His brow was heavily furrowed, his face twisted into a tight frown that would’ve frightened her if she hadn’t developed this strange level of trust with him.

“You fuck her to protect your people?” he asked lowly, his voice laced with a tone that made the hairs on her arm stand up.

“I killed the man I loved on her orders to protect my people,” Clarke whispered in reply. “She was going to wipe us out in retribution for what Finn did to Tri-kru. The twelve clans hate the sky people. Only Lexa’s orders keep the Grounders from killing my friends.”

Roan’s eyes searched her face, his expression unreadable in the low light.

“I can’t leave any more than you can,” Clarke finished. “And there’s no one around here that gets me like you do. No one who understands the need to balance between doing what we want and doing what’s right.”

Roan nodded slowly, his eyes darting between her eyes and her lips before he raised one eyebrow. Clarke’s stomach rioted with butterflies and she licked her lips nervously in turn, her eyes searching his face, one of her hands still tangled in his hair. He wanted to kiss her, she realised. Maybe to do more than kiss her. Clarke bit her bottom lip, wanting to kiss him too. She’d wanted to kiss him since he’d first knocked her off her feet and pinned her under him on her back in the long grass out on the plains, hiding from other Grounders.

Nodding her head quickly in answer to his non-verbal question, Clarke used her grip on his hair to guide his mouth to hers. Roan kissed her quickly, as though worried she’d change her mind, as though he couldn’t wait anymore. His beard tickled her lips after so many nights spent kissing Lexa instead, but Clarke liked it. He kissed her hard, his mouth moving over hers before his tongue swept between her lips, tangling with her own and making her dizzy with want. Her whole body thrummed under the attention, her blood singing with desire. How long had she wondered what it would be like to kiss him?

How often had she day-dreamed about the sight he made without a shirt, as she’d been treated to after she’d stabbed him during their first encounter? How often had she recalled the feel of his body pinning hers to the ground while he shushed her?

When he started to pull back, craving oxygen, Clarke caught his hand where it rested on her hip, guiding it under the hem of her shirt and Roan broke their kiss to watch. His hands were rough but warm and she sighed when he took control, smoothing it over her taut stomach and around her ribs, touching her lightly, and her shirt rolling up the higher he moved. In return, Clarke untangled her hand from his hair and reached for the hem of the shirt he wore, pulling it up. Roan let her, moving quickly to shrug out of it when she went to pull it off over his head.

Her eyes feasted on the sight of him when his chest was bare, her fingers itching to touch him.

“Your turn,” he muttered, tugging at her shirt until she sat up and let him relieve her of it. Clarke reached for him hungrily, pulling him close, the feel of his warmth against her bare skin delicious. She traced her hands over him, exploring the magnificent scarring upon his back.

He unsnapped her bra while she touched him, smoothing her hands over every inch of his bared skin that she could reach, and Clarke’s nipples tightened against the cool air as they were exposed. Roan looked his fill for a long moment, making her jittery with nerves, which drew a mischievous glint to his blue eyes that made her quiver all over again. He kissed her again then, hungry for her now, his hands smoothing over her soft skin in return, leaving no square untouched. When he pinched her nipples, Clarke arched under him, crying out and breaking their kiss, tingling all over.

“Noisy little thing, aren’t you?” Roan muttered into her neck as he kissed a hot trail down it and across her shoulder. “Should’ve guessed.”

Clarke blushed but didn’t refute the claim, reaching for more of him, her hands fumbling with the buttons on his pants, desperate to get him naked now. She wanted him. Gods, she’d wanted him for months and she couldn’t wait anymore!

“Don’t tease,” she complained when he rolled her nipples between him thumbs and forefingers, pinched tightly enough to maker her quiver all over, tendrils of delight coursing through her.

“Teasing’s the best part,” he argued, kissing lower and relinquishing the grip of his fingers on her right nipple to engulf it in the warmth of his mouth.

A low moan of delight escaped her, and Clarke arched again, desperate for friction, her hand sliding under his waistband. He nipped her when she curled her hand around his cock and stroked it lightly.

“Now who’s teasing?” he asked when she gripped him loosely, tormenting him more than she was pleasuring him.

“Teasing’s the best part,” she parroted, and a low laugh escaped him, surprising her before he reached for another kiss, his hands sliding lower to rid her of her pants, too.

After a few fumbles thanks in large parts to weapons-belts, boots, and nerves, finally they were naked together and Clarke reached for Roan eagerly when he moved on top of her.

“You sure about this?” he asked after another delirious kiss while they rocked together, bared skin to bared skin, desperately seeking friction.

“I’m sure,” Clarke nodded, smiling a little at his insistence on hearing her say it. “Are you sure?”

Roan lifted off her far enough to meet her gaze, raising his eyebrows at her and grinning a little.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said quietly before looking down, his hand moving to align their bodies.

Clarke held her breath, tense and waiting, quivering with anticipation. It’d been a long time since she’s shared her body with a man, but she was as excited as she was nervous and Roan darted another look at her, their bodies aligned, poised join in delicious carnality. She couldn’t help but giggle when his mouth twitched as he waited, just letting the anticipation build all the more, teasing her just because he could.

“Do it,” she encouraged, curling her legs around him and trying to pull him in. Roan resisted just long enough to begin annoying her before he smirked and pushed home.

Clarke’s breath hitched, her body clenching against the invasion and Roan groaned softly, burying his face in her neck and giving her a long minute to get used to the feel of him inside her. Smoothing her hands over his shoulders and across his back, she breathed deeply, reminding herself to relax.

“You have done this with a man before, right?” Roan asked, his mouth by her ear as he nibbled on her earlobe gently.

“Yeah,” Clarke panted softly, squirming a little. “Not for… not for a while.”

“Just one man?” he asked.

“Maybe. Why?” she asked, frowning as some of her tension began to ease, her muscles relaxing the longer he held still inside her.

“You’re tighter than some virgins,” he muttered, slowly withdrawing and eliciting hitched breathing from both of them.

“Is that right?” she asked. “Bedded a lot of virgins, have you?”

“I’m a prince, Clarke,” he reminded her quietly. “It’s considered a high honour among Azgedakru to offer a virgin daughter to the Ice Nation prince.”

“Oh,” Clarke frowned. “That… is really weird.”

“Skai-kru don’t have princes, do they?” he asked, slowly pushing back in and Clarke realised it was his intention to distract her so that she’d stop clenching so hard.

“We don’t,” she shook her head. “On the Ark, things were democratic. We elected those best suited to lead us, rather than inheriting the birthright to do so.”

Roan nodded, withdrawing and pushing in once more, the tension in his shoulders easing slowly as she began to relax, letting her body go lax as she slowly rolled her hips in time with his thrusting. It should have been awkward, she thought idly. Being with Finn had been awkward. Being with Nylah had been awkward. Being with Lexa the first few times had felt awkward. But being with Roan… Clarke felt whole.

“Your family was elected?” he asked between a peppering of kisses down the side of her neck.

“Mmmm… no, not exactly,” Clarke hummed, rolling her hip, timing them to his slow, deep thrusts, wanting to pull him even closer.

“But you friends elected you to lead them when you were sent to the ground?” Roan asked, though he sounded distracted, his breath coming in pants as his pace increased.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed. “Or… well… not elected. I just… took charge.”

“Good at that, aren’t you?” Roan asked, his voice growing huskier now.

“At taking charge, yes,” she answered quietly. “At leading… I’m not so sure.”

Roan grunted, nipping her shoulder as though in punishment and he stopped asking her anymore questions after that, driving into her harder now, pushing as deep as he could get on every thrust, filling her perfectly and making her feel whole. Clarke clung to him, nosing aside his long hair to get at his neck. He hissed when she kissed below his ear, tracing her lips over his warm skin and along his jaw, kissing the scars at his temple that indicated his royal status. Roan turned his head, capturing her lips for a searing kiss, his rhythm faltering slightly as his tongue made love to hers as surely as his body did.

They moved together in sync, kissing and thrusting, hips rolling and mouths seeking, and Clarke let the good feelings wash over her, calming her, soothing her, making her feel whole as she couldn’t ever remember feeling before. Being there with Roan felt good. It felt right. It felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be for the first time in her life and when her orgasm crested, a soft sob tore from her, her body spasming and clenching, rhythmically squeezing his until Roan hissed and his pace quickened and grew jerky before he followed her into bliss.

Afterward, they rested, his weight pressing her into the lumpy mattress and feeling so good on top of her that she hoped he’d never move. The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable, and Clarke carded her fingers through his hair, tracing nonsensical patterns over his back, simply taking comfort in his warmth and his presence.

“They’re probably looking for us by now,” Roan said eventually, disengaging from within her and rolling to the side where he stretched out on his back, panting, before reaching for her and pulling at her until she burrowed into his side, laying her head on his chest.

“They’ve probably been looking for us since before we left the city,” Clarke agreed.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “There’s no peace in Polis.”

“No privacy, either,” she sighed. “I don’t want to go back.”

Roan chuckled. “Neither do I,” he said, turning his head and pressing his lips to the middle of her forehead affectionately. “We don’t have to go back. Not going back in the dark tonight, anyway. Tri-kru hunt best in the dark, and they’ve got traps all over.”

“Think they’ll send a search party?” she asked.

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Not if they figure we’re together.”

“They’ll know about this,” she sighed, realising there would be no privacy surrounding this tryst either.

“Don’t care if they do,” he shrugged beneath her. “Perks of being the King include doing whatever the hell I want.”

“I’m not a King,” she reminded him.

“Mmm,” he hummed, and when she tipped her head to look at him, he was frowning deeply, one of his hands carding through her hair and trailing the length of her spine to smooth over her bum before repeating the process, stroking her like she was a big cat. “Did you mean that before… about Lexa?”

“Which bit?” Clarke asked.

“That you’re only fucking her to protect your people. I know you… had a thing with that Ice Nation girl at the trading post where I caught you. We all just figured you went that way…” Roan said.

“I go both ways,” Clarke shrugged, sighing quietly. “And Lexa’s nice enough, once you get used to her.”

“But you’re fucking her for your people more than for your own desire?” he pressed, and Clarke frowned, wondering why it mattered.

“Sometimes,” she nodded. “In the beginning, yes.”

“Hmmm,” Roan hummed again, indicating his understanding and Clarke raised her eyebrows.

“Why?” she wanted to know.

“There might be another way you can protect your people without relying on Heda’s whim,” he said quietly.

Clarke raised her eyebrows at him.

“Oh?” She asked, interested even though Lexa had grown on her since this all started. She was, if nothing else, devoted to her people and if there were additional ways Clarke might protect them without solely relying on Lexa and the tenuous hold she had over the coalition of the thirteen clans, Clarke wanted to know about it. She wanted her people to survive, and she had already proven on more than one occasion that she was willing to do whatever was necessary to ensure that they did so, no matter how monstrous.

“Ice Nation could protect Skaikru,” Roan offered quietly.

Clarke frowned, her brow furrowing, wondering what he was thinking that his people - the most ruthless of the twelve grounder clans – would possibly offer them protection of any kind.

“At what cost?” she asked, knowing that a large portion of Farm Station had been killed by Azgeda, and other held hostage as slaves by the same clan.

Roan looked at her steadily when Clarke sat up, frowning into his face and trying to look at his suggestions logically when all of her instincts were screaming that Skaikru would never go for it.

“You and I would have to get married,” Roan answered finally, his eyes steady as he held her gaze, his expression serious.

Clarke’s stomach triple backflipped and she raised her eyebrows.

“Is this a joke?” she wanted to know, unable to tell from his expression if he was actually being serious of if this was his idea of funny. She didn’t really peg Roan for the type to make a dumb joke about marriage just because they’d had sex, but anything was possible, right? Her experiences with Finn and Lexa had taught her that. Nylah and the other Azgedakru people she’d met, Roan included, were far more serious by nature, so she wasn’t actually sure.

“It’s not a joke, Wanheda,” Roan answered, shaking his head slowly. “Skaikru’s position among the thirteen clans is dependent on you – and in case you hadn’t noticed, most of them don’t like you – and on Lexa’s favour, since she’s the only one other than me and maybe Indra, who does like you. You might not have been elected by your people to lead them in any formal capacity, but you represent them on the council. I can tell you now, there’s at least three plots to have your people captured and enslaved to teach the other clans your skills and get hold of your tech, and at least eight different plots to have you killed to take your power.”

Clarke huffed, surprised by the numbers.

“Currently, fear of Lexa and of you is keeping them at bay, but it won’t last. Lexa has to remain as impartial as possible and already there is unrest because she is favouring Skaikru too much because she likes fucking you. You know this,” Roan told her, sitting up as well and surprising Clarke when he reached over to tuck a stray wave behind her ear as her head lowered.

Yes, she knew that Lexa’s favour was causing bad feelings among the other clans. Skairkru had caused a lot of damage, taken a lot of lives, and encroached on a lot of Kru territories when they’d crash landed.

“Roan…” Clarke said, her eyes lifting to search his face once more, looking for reasons he might even suggest the idea, still not sure it wasn’t a joke.

“I’m king of Azgedakru, Wanheda,” he reminded her quietly. “You and Lexa plotted to make me king. It got Lexa her revenge, and bought your people some time with me leading Ice Nation instead of my mother. But that time is running out.”

“What do you mean?” Clarke asked.

Roan sighed, running a hand through his hair in a rare show of what she suspected was nervousness.

“I’m king,” he answered. “But I won’t stay king for long if I don’t… take certain steps.”

“Meaning?” she pushed.

“I have no heir,” he answered. “I have no queen. And I have taken no steps to appease my people’s thirst for Skairkru blood. If I don’t take a queen and sire an heir soon, they’ll have me killed. Echo’s been warning of it for weeks.”

“She’s heard plots to stage your assassination?” Clarke frowned.

“Blood must have blood, Wanheda,” he told Clarke quietly. “Lexa broke the rules of our battle when she had Nia killed. She was a ruthless bitch plotting to overthrow Lexa and the coalition, and Lexa killed her over a blood feud. My people want her to pay for that. And they see it as killing two birds with one stone if I kill you and take your power, wounding Lexa in the process because that she cares for you is evident.”

“What are you saying?” Clarke asked, drawing back a little and reach for the shirt he’d peeled her out of in the absence of any blankets or covering to hide her nudity. “You’re planning to have me killed? Or just looking to hurt Lexa by suggesting we marry?”

Roan sighed.

“I’m trying to save your life,” he answered quietly. “Again.”

“With marriage?” she asked, baffled.

Roan nodded.

“If you and I were to marry, Ice Nation would stop calling for your head. Killing you to take your power would appease their thirst, but making you their queen and having you sire their next king? They’d sing songs about it for decades,” Roan answered truthfully. “If we married, you would have the backing of Ice Nation to protect Skaikru from the other clans, and the power to execute any of my people who sought to kill yours. You wouldn’t be reliant on Lexa for protection, the coalition wouldn’t be at risk of falling due to her favouritism… everything would stabilise.”

Clarke blinked.

“And Ice Nation gets access to Skairkru technologies and knowledge,” she said. “And my ‘power’ as Wanheda,” she said, seeing that there was hardly an unequal balance of protection over Ice Nation gain. “I could never sell it to my people, Roan. When Farm Station crash landed in the Ice Nation, two hundred survivors were on board. Barely a third of that made it out. Azgeda killed the rest of them, and took a lot of them captive and forced them to work like slaves in their own ship.”

“I know,” Roan sighed. “A lot of my people were killed in those skirmishes too.”

“And blood must have blood,” Clarke finished, frustrated. “They’ll keep feuding if something’s not done?”

“Echo has already foiled seventeen plots to directly attack Skairkru on your land and retake those hostages, along with all your tech. They’ll kill whoever fights too hard – like Marcus, Octavia, Bellamy, and the others. And they’ll enslave Raven and Monty and whoever else they can subjugate for their own ends.”

“You can’t stop them?” Clarke asked.

“No more than you can stop those among Skaikru who still think Grounders are their ultimate enemy and believe their survival hinges on wiping us out.”

“We have the bullets to make that a reality.” Clarke told him.

“We have the people to spare,” Roan shrugged his shoulders. “In Ice Nation, a good death is the best we hope for. Avenging a fallen comrade is one of the better ways to go.”

“They’ll just keep killing each other,” Clarke sighed.

“And will kill you and me if we don’t do something to stop it,” Roan nodded.

“You really think getting married would fix it?” she asked.

“Ice Nation question my leadership because I have no bloodline to succeed me and have taken no action against Skaikru or against Lexa,” he nodded. “Marrying you robs Lexa of her lover, brings the power of Wanheda to Azgeda, and secures my bloodline.”

“So we’d have to have a child,” Clarke finished for him.

Roan nodded, his eyes still searching her face, gauging her reaction, trying to figure out if she was offended or angry or upset.

“Skaikru gets the protection of the Ice Nation, you get power over my people to some extent, the coalition survives, rather than devolving to times where clan wars with clan, once more, and you don’t have to sell yourself to Lexa for her protection.”

“I’d have to sell myself and my firstborn to you instead,” Clarke answered, frowning at him.

Roan’s brow furrowed.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he replied gruffly, and Clarke suspected she’d offended him. “It’s a mutually beneficial political arrangement that achieves a multitude of ends and ensures the survival of both our peoples in a tenuous time of peace.”

“Farm Station are all likeminded with the Grounder belief that blood must have blood, Roan,” Clarke reminded him. “And my people don’t have the same respect for authority that yours have cultivated. For too long, every aspect of our lives upon the Ark was controlled, from what clothes we were allowed to wear, when and with whom we might reproduce, how many children we could have, how much food we were rationed… everything. On the ground, we have more freedom. Already, people have ripped out their birth control devices and begun having kids. They can eat their fill because growing more food is easy…”

“Ice Nation won’t stop any of that,” Roan frowned at her. “We didn’t become the most prosperous clan entirely by ruthlessness. We have the numbers because we fuck like rabbits and we have the largest territory of any clan to accommodate it.”

Clarke snorted.

“I meant that they won’t listen to me. Even making me Queen of the Ice Nation won’t raise me in their esteem. I irradiated three hundred and eighty-one people, Roan. And I did it to save forty-eight of my friends. They don’t look to me as a leader, they look at me like I’m a monster. Jasper still hasn’t forgiven me because his girlfriend was one of those three hundred and eighty-one people.”

“You saved a lot more people than that, Clarke,” Roan argued, frowning at her. “Forty-eight Skairkru, maybe, but how many Grounders? Your actions saved thousands of people from all twelve clans who’d been captured and were being harvested for their bone marrow. How many did you save from life as a Reaver?”

“That’s not the point,” Clarke sighed, running her hands through her hair. “I did what I did and I saved who I saved, and to be honest, in the same situation, I’d kill them all, all over again. But everyone from the Ark who wasn’t there – who didn’t meet them and didn’t see the Fog and the Reavers and everything else horrible that the Mountain Men had done and were routinely doing; hell, even those who did, like Jasper, who got their feelings all tangled up in that mess… they don’t want to listen to me. They think me little more than a Grounder whore. I killed Finn, and I killed the Mountain Men and I ran away. I hooked up with Nylah and I’ve been hooking up with Lexa and now I’ve hooked up with you. Roan, even if I marry you, Skairkru won’t listen to me.”

“But you’re their leader,” Roan protested.

“I’m not,” Clarke shook her head. “That’s what I’m saying. When it was just the 100, Bellamy and I were their unofficial leaders. Hell, we practically stepped into the role of Mum and Dad for a bunch of randy teenagers…. But now? With all the Ark down on the ground? Those who survived, anyway… I’m not their leader. I’m just a silly teenage girl who killed a lot of people to save her friends. My own mother thinks I’m a monster for killing the Mountain Men, even though they had her on the table and were harvesting her bone marrow right in front of me without painkillers while she screamed in agony. Marcus or Thelonius or my mother are their leaders.”

“Not as far as the twelve clans are concerned,” Roan shook his head.

“Which, so far, has worked out alright because they respect Wanheda,” Clarke nodded. “But you said it yourself. They don’t like me. They want to kill me and take my power. They want retribution from Skairkru for stealing their land and invading their homes and killing their people. And Skaikru think the Clans primitive and violent and uncivilised. They imagine themselves smarter and more humane than all of you.”

“They are,” Roan shrugged his shoulders. “Before the coalition, clan warred with clan for decades. Blood must have blood and we raised blood feuds every other day. We’ve been killing each other since we all clawed our way out of the bunkers and other hiding places that protected our ancestors from the radiation when the world ended.”

“So how is this any kind of solution?” Clarke wanted to know, frowning at him.

“Keeps you alive,” Roan shrugged a second time, reaching over and tucking back another lock of her hair that she’d unsettled by running her hands through the blonde mess. “Keeps me alive. Keeps me in power as King. You said it yourself. If I fall, they’ll crown one of my brothers king – probably Kodru. He’s been fucking Ontari for years, so he’ll want her in power. She’ll kill Lexa, become Heda, and Ice Nation will rule over all the other clans – or more likely, the coalition will fail and we’ll all go back to killing each other, starting with enslaving the smart Skairkru members, and killing the thugs and anyone else making waves or getting in the way.”

“So it’s in everyone’s best interests if you remain king,” Clarke sighed. “Which you can’t do without an heir and a queen.”

“And it protects you from the biggest threats to yourself and your people. Ice Nation won’t try to kill you if you’re their queen.”

“They’re planning to kill you, even though you’re their king,” Clarke pointed out.

“Only because they think me weak for not striking back at Lexa and not taking your power.”

Clarke sighed heavily and put her head in her hands.

“Did you lure me out here just for this?” she asked, though her voice was muffled by her hands.

Roan snorted.

“When I lured you out here, I thought you only preferred girls,” Roan said, amusement lacing his tone. “I was going to warn you to run for your life… bind you and leave you somewhere if I had to. Keep you out of the way while staging a coup to overthrow Lexa and install Ontari as Heda like my people want.”

Clarke lifted her head.

“You’d have tied me up?” she frowned at him.

“And left you bound in this house under guard until it was over, and safe for me to release you into the wilds to live on the run again, like before,” Roan nodded.

“You would… let your people enslave mine?” she asked, horror twisting her stomach.

“In all your time as leader of your people, how often have you found it to be wise to defy their wishes, Clarke?” Roan appealed quietly. “You don’t stay leader for long unless you rule by fear and they fear you as much as they hate you. In our line of work, you appease the people as often as you can, or you die and someone more likely to appease them takes your place. You know that.”

“Why not just kill me, then?” she asked. “You had to know how I’d react if Ice Nation overthrew the coalition, killed Lexa and enslaved Skaikru. You had to know I’d live by Jus drein jus daun and dedicate the remainder of my life to trying to free my people and seeking retribution. Why not just kill me and get it over with? Take my power and secure your place as king once and for all?”

Roan’s serious expression flawed her, his icy blue eyes softening just a little as he reached one large hand to cup her cheek gently, and Clarke leaned into the touch, unbidden, despite the uncertainty and fear and anger and confusion churning in her gut.

“Don’t you know?” he asked quietly, raising his eyebrows.

Clarke sighed, closing her eyes before she nodded.

She knew.

Since she’d met him, she’d known.

“You really think getting married is the best option?” she asked, her eyes still closed, her cheek pillowed in his palm.

“Unless you’d rather I tie you up and leave you here?” he asked quietly.

Clarke snorted.

“Pretty sure threatening me with bodily harm counts as a denial of consent. Coercion, at best. Blackmail.”

Roan chuckled quietly. “When have you ever known me to leave anything to chance?” he asked, and when she opened her eyes, he was grinning at her.

“If I say no?” she asked.

“You condemn your people to death,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Even if I didn’t allow Azgedakru to harm them, some other clan would turn on them. The longer Lexa favours you, the more danger the coalition is in. The longer you live free, the bigger target you become. They will turn on Heda. And on you. And on your people. And I…”

Roan paused, shaking his head and leaning in, his grip on her cheek guiding her lips to his before he kissed her fiercely, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, tangling with her own a little desperately. Clarke reached for him in return, her hands cupping his strong jaw and holding him close as she shuffled across the mattress and climbed into his lap, straddling him easily. Gods, why did everything with Roan always feel so easy? Why did his touch soothe her as much as it excited her? Why did the sound of his voice make her tremble and simultaneously make her feel so safe?

Roan’s voice was husky when he broke their kiss and laid his forehead against her.

“I can’t see you suffer, Wanheda,” he murmured. “I won’t watch you die. You’re… you’re my…”

Clarke’s mouth pulled up at the corners as he struggled to express whatever sentiment he felt. He didn’t need to voice it. In the short time she’d known him, even when she was angry with him, he was the one she sought out for comfort. He was the one she went to after those early encounters with Lexa, seeking out his company afterward when she felt dirty and like she was whoring herself for her people’s protection. When the nightmares woke her in the dark, of mountains and torture and explosions and death, it was Roan’s room she invaded. When everything felt too hard and it was all too much, it was Roan she sat beside in silence and simply took quiet comfort from his strength and his presence.

“You’re the only one who gets me,” she repeated her sentiments from earlier. “You’re who I seek out when I’m feeling low.”

“My fortress when then nightmares come,” Roan agreed quietly, his eyes closed and his arms around her, holding her to him snugly

Clarke sighed, relaxing into him, realising in that moment just what it was she was going to do.

“What if it doesn’t work?” she asked. “What if your people and mine still can’t overcome their hatred?”

“We’ll kill the ones making the most trouble and rule by fear if necessary,” Roan answered.

“Rule by fear?” she clarified, not liking the sound of that.

“Strength is the only thing my people respect,” he told her.

“Brutality is one of the things my people revile,” she reminded him.

“Then they need a reality check of what the rest of the world is like outside that damn fence of theirs,” Roan muttered. “The world is brutal, and only the strong survive. They’ll come around, Clarke. Trust me.”

“How can they?” she asked. “They have their stolen land and their crops and their water and everything else they believe they need to survive now that they’re on the ground. Even if I do marry you, they won’t respect whatever truce we barter.”

“They will when winter comes,” Roan answered quietly.

“The 100 have already survived one winter,” she shrugged her shoulders. “It wasn’t so bad.”

Roan snorted and opened his eyes, pulling back a little to peer into her face with that condescending I’m-smarter-than-you expression he’d mastered so well.

“That wasn’t winter, Wanheda,” he said, smirking a little. “That was a summer snow.”

“What?” she frowned at him. “But it got so cold. It snowed!”

“Summer snow,” he nodded. “The radiation screwed up the seasons. We don’t endure a few short months of summer, autumn, winter, and spring here on the ground like we did from The Before.”

“What do you mean?”

“This,” he waved a finger to the atmosphere in general. “Ever since your 100 first fell to earth? It’s all been summer.”

“But it’s…” Clarke’s eyes widened.

“The Twelve Clans have been sniggering and laughing, toasting the fact that even if nothing else gets you, the winter will. Your people are woefully unprepared for a year-long winter of snow deeper than I am tall,” he told her.

“They… oh, shit,” Clarke frowned.

“Yeah,” Roan smirked, laying back and putting his hands behind his head while Clarke straddled him, their bodies pressing intimately and making her think another round wouldn’t be a bad idea. “It’s going to be a wake-up call. There’s no way they have enough wood or enough food laid in to survive a winter on the ground.”

“They’re all going to die…” Clarke frowned.

“They’re going to learn to get along with Azgeda,” he grinned. “And their queen will helpfully provide for them from the royal stocks laid aside in the Azgeda capital.”

“Oh yeah?” Clarke frowned. “Generous queen, is she?”

Roan chuckled.

“Bit of a bitch, actually,” he smirked. “Ruthless in the service of her people. Complete martyr.”

“You’re one to talk,” Clarke rolled her eyes.

Roan grinned like a Cheshire cat, wicked amusement glittering in those blue eyes.

“You’ll do it, then?” he asked. “Marry me?”

Clarke raised her eyebrows, looking down at him where he laid bare chested beneath her, his hands curled behind his head, the picture of smug masculinity.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” she asked. “You and I are often at odds when it comes to protecting our own people, Roan.”

“I know,” he nodded. “It’s what will make you a good Queen. Like I said, Wanheda, you are ruthless in the service of your people.”

“Making me Queen of Azgeda would make your people, my people,” she pointed out.

“I know,” he said again, grinning. “Won’t be at odds if we’re protecting the same people, will we?”

“What about Skaikru?” she asked.

“They’re stubborn,” he said, his grin fading into that brooding frown he wore so well. “They’ll resist. They might even cast you out, for a time, if you marry me. They already think you’re a Grounder whore, don’t they?”

“Some of them,” Clarke nodded, unhappy.

“But when the snow comes, they’ll need you. They’ll crawl on their bellies to you, then, I think,” Roan said. “Those who don’t embrace this change with you will have no choice but to see reason and seek your aid if they want to survive. The truly stubborn will strike out on their own and die in the attempt or return all the stronger and have no need of you anymore. But you’ll live. I’ll live. Lexa will live. The coalition will survive. Peace will stand between the clans long enough to replenish the numbers we’ve all lost and to prosper a little, lay in the harvest for the year and make certain we can all survive another turn of the seasons.”

“And then?” she asked.

Roan shrugged. “Then we’ll figure it out after that. The dangers we’re currently facing will be gone, but more always lurk right around the corner.”

“You really want to marry me?” she asked. “Before this evening you thought I was a lesbian and had never laid an amorous finger on me.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to,” Roan pointed out quietly, reaching with one arm to trace a hand up her bare thigh and to rest on her hip under the hem of the shirt she’d donned. “Those nights when you help yourself to my room in Polis and help yourself to my bed, it’s been hard keeping my hands to myself.”

Clarke smiled gently.

“Sometimes I really wish you hadn’t kept them to yourself,” she admitted.

Roan grinned again, his hips rolling up underneath her and making her tingle with desire, she could feel his body hardening under her rump, letting her know that evidently he would have no qualms marrying her and especially not at trying for the heir he needed to keep his throne.

“Now that I know you like men – like me – I won’t,” he promised, his hand gliding over her hip and down to the junction of her thighs, his thumb seeking the little pearl of pleasure at the top of her sex and drawing a gasp from her lips. “What’ll it be, Wanheda? Will you marry me? Become Queen of Azgeda? Carry my heirs?”

“Now it’s heirs, plural?” she teased, her hips rolling into the caress of his hand grinding on the hardness beneath her.

“You think I’d keep my hands off you after just one?” Roan challenged, raising his eyebrows and looking lustful and condescending all at the same time.

Clarke laughed, shaking her head as Roan reached up, breaking their rhythm and leaving her needy so he could peel her shirt back off her.

“Good thing I always wanted a whole herd of children, then isn’t it?” she asked, teasing. “I hated on the Ark that the law stated one child per couple because resources were finite. People were floated for having more than one, you know?”

“How many did you wish for?” Roan asked, seeming surprised at her confession that she’d wanted a lot of children.

“Half a dozen, at least,” Clarke admitted, blushing a little at so silly a fantasy.

Roan’s mouth twitched at the corners. “Did you dream up with names for them all?” he teased gently.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Everything from the names of characters in books and films we had access to on the Ark, to names of my grandparents, and people I admired throughout history. I had more than twenty written down in a notebook that I adored.”

“Twenty?” he asked, stunned.

“I don’t want that many kids,” she assured him.

“That many would probably kill you,” Roan told her.

“And the point of getting married would be to avoid our mutual deaths,” she nodded.

“You’ll do it, then?” he confirmed, pushing her for a definitive answer even though he’d moved to trail his hands over her bare breasts.

Clarke nodded her head, rising up on her knees and reaching between her legs, guiding his body to the entrance of her before meeting his gaze and slowly sliding down upon him.

“I’ll do it, Roan,” she said huskily. “I’ll marry you.”

Roan’s answering smile almost blinded her, surprising her with its appearance when usually he was so stern. He reached for her hungrily, his hips bucking up to meet her downward plunge and his arms encircling her frame, his mouth crashing against her and claiming it for himself once and for all.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26137951

7 notes · View notes

lemonyellowlogic · 4 years ago

Text

the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun: chapter twenty-eight

masterlist

first

-o-

chapter twenty-eight: the vegetables

Patton fidgeted with the necklace Roman had gifted to him with one hand, a basket for groceries in the other.. He absolutely loved the gift as simple as it was, because it meant he had thought about him.

Patton was glad he fit in so well with Diego’s family, but was still nervous inside. What if he wasn't good at being human? What if being with them wasn’t valuable enough? What if they found out how he escaped?

Patton bit his lip, shaking his head. His dreads slapped the sides of his face gently and he jumped at the slight knock. Roman peered over his shoulder at him in slight confusion, and Pat just sheepishly smiled. Roman gave him a small one back, and let out a breath.

Remy had left them just moments ago to do their own shopping with their basket, and left Roman with Patton because they “trusted him to corral Roman”, to which he laughed and Roman huffed.

“So, Remy said they’d get the meat and dairy, but it’s our job to get the produce. Unfortunately,“ He sighed with a pursed smile, “Their handwriting is like chicken-scratch, and I have no idea what it says.”

“Let me see,” Patton leaned over and found the handwriting close to his own messy scribbles.

“Oh, this is easy!” He peered at Roman through his circular glasses with a curious smile, “How come you couldn’t read it?”

Roman blushed and hummed, shrugging, “I mainly was taught cursive and calligraphy growing up, so the more...simple forms of letters can confuse me at times.”

“Golly, I have no idea how to write cursive, or even read it! Your family must’ve been rich?”

Roman flinched at that, and Patton realized he must’ve hit a sore subject, “Yeah. They were...are.”

Patton patted his shoulder, “Sorry if you don’t want to talk about it, I was just curious.”

Roman gave him a soft and thankful smile, and nodded. He motioned to the paper to ask what was written on it and Patton obliged.

“Just some grains, a bunch of specific vegetables like tomatoes and lettuce, and...oo!”

Roman raised an eyebrow as his arms crossed, a growing grin on his mouth.

“We get to pick the fruit! Come on, come on!”

Patton grabbed his hand, and Roman tripped over his own feet at the tug, but Patton just grinned at him and started walking quickly. Roan just laughed and followed him, walking hand in hand at each other's sides.

They stopped in front of a produce booth, where an old woman sat patiently behind with a smile. Patton tugged Roman over and now Roman obliged, looking at the vegetables she offered carefully.

Meanwhile, Patton started up a conversation with the woman, “Hello, ma’am!”

The woman seemed confused that he spoke to her but delighted at the same time, “Hello to you too, young man. I haven’t seen you or your friend around here before, are you travelling?”

“Yes, we are! We were sent out to get food and your stand looks beautiful, so of course we had to stop by.”

“Well, thank you dear. My late husband used to help me along with running it, but since he passed, it’s just me. Everything you see here was picked by yours truly at my own little garden, so I know it’s good.”

Roman spoke up, “Oh, I can tell, ma’am. These tomatoes are almost bursting with how deliciously ripe they are! How much for a pound?”

The woman smiled happily, he eyes crinkling, “Thank you, young sir. It’ll be three for a pound, but five for two.”

Roman winked at her, “What a steal,” and handed her five gold. She took it in her wrinkled hand and smiled brightly at him, thanking him kindly.

“What are you two boys’ names, then? You can call me Agnes, but I’d like to tell my friends how sweet you were to an old woman like myself.”

Roman’s eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth but Patton cut him off, pointing to himself and then Roman, “Oh, I’m Patton and this is my friend Roman.”

The woman’s eyes grew wide, “Roman? Like the late prince?”

Roman fumbled, his hands gesturing vaguely, “Exactly like the prince! Common name when I was born, you see.”

It seemed like he caught up to her words, “Wait, late prince?”

Her eyes began to water, and Agnes nodded sadly, “Haven’t you heard?”

Patton tensed, looking shaky and nervous, “I heard he was just lost and or...um...missing.”

She shook her head, “No, dear, the king announced a few days ago how the crown prince was murdered in cold blood by some dirty Alimagians,” She seemed to spit the word, and she wiped her eyes sadly, “Fortunately the prince’s killers were executed in the square of the castle’s village the same day, so they can’t kill again.”

Roman’s jaw trembled before he clenched it hard, looking down, “We didn’t know, ma’am. We’ve been travelling for weeks now.”

Agnes patted Roman’s hand, “Not your fault, boy.You’re just the age the prince would be, aren’t you?”

Roman pursed his lips, nodding slowly, and Agnes smiled.

“I was working at the castle when he was born, you know? I had to leave the next year, my back wasn’t good anymore, but I remember the celebrations thrown around the kingdom in honor of our prince, our Roman Phillip. The queen held him so proudly in her arms and the king looked at him like he was his world.”

She chuckled, “That boy’s cries would echo through the castle, but we didn’t care, it just showed he was strong.”

Agnes sighed, “I was excited to see how beautifully a lovely boy like him would rule, but we’ll never know.” She looked up at Roman and he gave her a small tense smile, and she patted his hand once more, “Remember to carry your name proudly, Roman, and make your namesake proud.”

Roman nodded, before turning away with a wave, Patton following behind him , face pale and looking a dull grey instead of his normal deep brown.

He swallowed, “I didn’t know you and the prince had the same name.”

Roman clenched his fist, nodding sharply, “Yeah, I don’t much speak about it.”

“Did you know he had died?”

“No. I was already with everyone when news broke, I believe.”

Patton stayed quiet, and Roman turned to him, a small smile on his lips, “Are you okay, Pat?”

He sighed, “I’m okay,” Giving Roman one in return as his heart beat frantically in his chest.

Patton hated lying, hated pretending the prince was dead. Because, in all honesty, Patton knew the prince wasn’t dead, and he didn’t know how he could hide the truth from Roman that his namesake was truly alive.

But, he didn’t, couldn’t tell Roman, because Patton alone had to find the prince.

-o-

#lemon talks #lemon writes #thtrtsts #thtrtsts spoilers #sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts sides #roman sanders #patton sanders #remy sanders #dlamp #remile #cartoon therapy

3 notes · View notes

lets-break-free-from-our-chains · 5 years ago

Text

Dawn of A New Age in Ice-Roan x Wife!reader

Requested: I would like a king roan x reader were the reader is pregnant with roans child and tells him. after the conclave he survived because he hold his breath and stopped moving and later a little bit after 6 years, there child or children what you want have a different special blood called: Azblida ( ice blood) and the story is up to you if you want. from the 100 I would like that :)

A/N: Hi guys! I promised you all a Roan x Reader and I finally was able to find the time to sit down and write. It ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be, but that's okay because the more Roan the better! Let me know if you guys want me to go into more detail on the whole Azblida story and do another imagine that’s a spin off of this one but focuses more on the twins, Malia and Tobias. I don’t own the any of the gifs and pictures I used, they all belong to there rightful own. Also the picture is not what the twins look like in the story; you can decide what your kids would look like with Roan, lol. Anyways I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think; I always love hearing from you all -xoxoxo

Word Count: 5.5k

You can barely remember what the sun felt like on your face, and how fresh the air smelled. It was radiation-soaked air, but never-the-less your sentiments were the same. It was beautiful and now it was gone. Azgeda, your beloved home was gone; forever. Though you always remind yourself that you have more, from the old world, than most. You have your husband, your twins, and your life. You have far more than most do and so you always remember to humble yourself when you find yourself becoming to melancholy about the Red Dawn Bunker.

“Your lips are pursed and your making that all too familiar face, again.” a strong voice, chuckled from behind you. There was no need for you to look; you knew that heavenly voice anywhere.

You turned in the chair at your writing desk to face Roan and found him leaning on the side of your bookcase. You sighed as you spoke,

“And your leaning on my bookcase. Again.”

Roan’s eyes widened slightly, and he had the decency to look sheepish as he quickly straightened his stance away from his notorious spot against my bookcase. The bookcase would start to become loose and wobble back and forth from the pressure of his gigantic frame leaning against it. Very rarely, did you let small things bother you, but that was one of the few things that could always irk you. However, you knew Roan didn’t do it on purpose and that’s why you were always gentle in your reprimands towards him for the absent-minded tendency.

“Forgive me, my love.” he says, as he approaches your chair; to place an intimate kiss behind your right ear. “I always seem to forget, despite my best efforts to remember.”

“I know, darling. It’s why I remain forever patient in my regards to that specifically vexing habit.” You slyly caught his eyes, with a playful smirk. He laughed at the good-natured slight, as he caressed the sides of your upper arms and dropped a light kiss to your left temple.

“Well thank you for being so patience with me, my queen. Perhaps, the day may yet come when I remember to refrain myself from such a vexing habit.”

You threw him a humorous hum with a ‘We shall see’ look on your face, as he playfully shakes his head at you with a highly amused chuckle. Something was missing though, and it was then that you realized the twins weren’t with him; as they normally would have added their own funny sarcasm by now.

“Where’s Tobias and Malia at? It’s not safe for them to be without guards.” You mused out loud.

“No need to worry, (Y/N/N). The twins are training with Gaia and Indra. With plenty of guards to watch over them while they train.” Roan hastened the words out into the air, as if sensing and quickly, seeking to placate your slightly distressed stated; to which you sighed in relief.

Only to have the distress flood your body once more and turn your blood ice cold. You stood, so quickly, that your chair scraped against the floor as it was pushed away. You moved to sit next to Roan on your shared bed, where you leaned into his enormous figure for much needed comfort and security. You whispered so soft, it almost wasn’t there, “Blodreina won’t be there, will she?”

“I don’t want her filling our babies’ heads with insanities and atrocities.” You managed to choke out, distressingly harsh whisper, before Roan wrapped you in his arms and gently hushed you. Roan knew you were forever worrying about what Blodreina was up too.

While the both of you gave your support to her leadership, you were far from comfortable with her power. Especially since she was given her well-earned title; Blodreina. When Roan informed you that people were calling her by that title, you nearly fell out into the floor. Roan didn’t see the big deal in the name until you told him about the eternal and infamous story behind The Red Queen. He’d never heard about the story of the red queen, and while Roan was very intelligent and educated; he hasn’t ever been the kind of person to sit down and read fairytales, and you’d never been able to imagine a dimension where Nia read him fairytales.

He began to share your same worries after you told him about The Red Queen in the fairytale and historical women like Queen Mary I of England who was later named Bloody Mary for killing hundreds of people, in a five year reign, who didn’t believe in what she believed in. Then, there was Countess Elizabeth Báthory who was given the title, The Blood Countess for killing over an estimated 650 people and most likely more just to satisfy her base pleasure for blood sport.

You told Roan that those women had plenty in common, but their self-destruction was marked by one particular poison. They had power and eventually they began to like that power. Finally, along the way they developed an obsessive love for that power that inhibited their senses and left them without the ability to see that there are limits and there are lines and we cross them, it builds a wall where those lines used to be. It’s nearly impossible to break those walls down, let alone climb them, to get back to the other side.

“The twins are two of the few fortunate souls in nightmarish bunker. They were only babies when the Dark Year happened; they don’t have to know the turmoil of trying to find a way to live with the horrific crimes they committed against humanity. They are two of the only ones that are truly pure and innocent.”

The desperation and fear in your soft voice was loud and clear to Roan and it pulled at his heart in ways most couldn’t understand. You’re his wife and the mother of his children, to see you in despair of any level hurt him more than words could describe. You were right though; the twins were lucky when it came to all the things everyone in the bunker had to do to survive.

It’s times like that when you want more than anything to be above ground where you and Roan where rulers and could properly protect your children. Though you are protecting the twins by making a deal with Blodreina, you both knew that at any moment she could decide to break off the deal and her cult followers would only continue to follow. There no sense of true honor in the bunker anymore. No, that moral luxury died in the fighting pit years ago; the Dark Year to be exact. However, you and Roan were both aware that no matter how much protection you give the twins, there would always be danger to close for peace of mind. they were the luckiest and also the most unfortunate, at least when it comes to power, that is. Azblidas.

Nearly invincible creatures it seemed like. When you were pregnant with the twins it felt like you were always freezing, and they were active and strong from the very first kick that appeared to never cease it seemed. Not that you minded, it felt like you were bonding with them and that’s one of the reasons you’d read aloud to them even when you still carried them in your womb.

|Flashback; Waiting for Roan’s Victory|

You waited behind the flame that told you, your husband, the king was still alive and fighting. Echo waiting anxiously with you, and what would have been consider your Lady’s maid in a time before Primfiya, Cordelia, forever by your side, offered you the support and comfort you desperately needed. Cordelia was a woman in her early thirties; she had smooth olive skin with heart shaped lips, big brown honey-hued eyes and framed by thick dark brown hair. You tried to decide whether it was wavy or curly before settling with the decision that it was both; Delia’s hair was gorgeous either way. She was a strong and wise woman, and she was just as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. She stepped towards you from behind you, to whisper in your left ear;

“Did you tell him?”

There was nothing you hid from Delia and there was nothing she hid from you. She took care of you every day, ran errands for you, helped you with your responsibilities as Queen, offered you wisdom and comfort, and generally just made your busy and chaotic life easier for you. She with you every day, all day even if you hadn’t told her you were pregnant, she was more than smart enough to figure it out all by herself.

You turned your head to the left, though your eye lingered on the flame representing Roan’s life; “No, I didn’t want to distract him from the conclave. I wanted him to have a level head and his guard up. He has enough to carry on his shoulders, I will not knowingly add to those burdens.”

You could see she was about to say more but stopped and thought about it a few seconds longer before she looked at you with understanding eyes and soft smile, followed with a gentle nod.

Your attention was directed back to the room around you as Indra’s daughter, Gaia came from the balcony. It was down to Octavia, Luna, and Roan; you held your breath as the scout approach remaining flames with a candle snuff. Gaia voice sound like it was far away and somewhere underwater; “Roan kom Azgeda, yu gonplei ste odon.”

You swear your heart stopped as the nameless scout destroyed Roan’s flame. It felt like you could breathe, as if someone had cut you open and ripped your heart and lungs from your chest. The pain was…unbearable. You manage to let out one long mournful wail, that chilled the blood of everyone in the room, before that became to painful and physically impossible for you it seemed.

You suddenly felt faint and reached out for something to steady yourself with. Cordelia was shaken out of her shock when she saw you stumble backwards in a slight sway. She rushed up behind you and settled a strong right hand on your hip before clasping your left hand with hers. “My Queen?! Your Grace, can you hear?! (Y/N), it’s me, Cordelia!” Delia waited for a response, but only received a soft breathless gasp that sounded faintly like ‘help’. Cordelia didn’t have any time to ask again before she felt your body give out. She caught your body and gently lowered the both of you to the ground.

“HELP! GET HELP! Find a healer, the Queen’s fainted!” Delia cried out, in desperate panic. You could see Delia and Echo’s faces above you and their mouths were moving, but you couldn’t hear anything as darkness invaded and conquered your vision.

|Flashback; prior to The Final Conclave|

The happiness and relief you felt, when you had woken to Roan’s handsome face, was unlike any kind of happiness you ever felt before. You first thought that you were dead and that you had actually died of a broken heart, but you soon realized that you were in fact alive when you saw Cordelia; perched on the edge of her chair, to right side of the bed, in anticipation.

Roan was so elated to see that you had awoken and pounced forward to press a passionate kiss to your lips. You’d frozen in surprise and slight shocked till you relaxed into the welcomed kiss and poured your love and longing into the greatly needed moment. Cordelia smiled; quietly backing away and turning in the other direction to give her king and queen privacy. You felt him gently place his large hand over your womb where your child rested. You would later come to find out that it was two babes not just one.

When he reluctantly pulled away, you could see the questions in his eyes, but he decided it was best not to overwhelm you in your delicate condition. Normally you would have bristled at the someone deeming you delicate, however, at that moment you were grateful because no matter how much you refused to admit it you really didn’t have the energy to talk about something so serious.

Even if you did have the energy you still had bigger problems. Roan informed you that Octavia had won the Final Conclave and decided to give one hundred spots to each of the 12 clans to show that we were equals and were destined to unite as Wonkru. You were surprised to hear he accepted the notion. He was so adamant when it came to winning the Red Dawn solely for their clan’s survival.

When he saw your unbridled surprise and questioning gaze as you studied him, he merely chuckled fondly; “The only reason I’m alive is because I didn’t give up, I held onto my last breath until that psychotic Natblida released her hold on me. If I’m going to give up my last breath to anyone, it’ll be to my queen. Preferably in my beloved queen’s arms, in our old age after living a long and meaningful life.”

You being who you were, had replied with a forever-loving and playful taunt; “Oh Roan, you’re secretly a hopeless romantic! Good thing I find that an attractive trait in my king, huh?”

He had given you an amused smirk and eyeroll, but the look in his eyes soften considerably when he heard you whisper a heartfelt ‘Ai hod in yu, Ai Hairein…’

“Ai hod in yu too, Ai Haireina”

|Flashback; Birth of the Bluebloods|

The pain was unimaginable and overbearing, as it crashed over you in relentless waves; only getting strong and more painful as time dragged on. Cordelia was to the left of you trying to make you as comfortable as possible, while Roan sat behind, in between you and the metal headboard, as he spoke words of encouragement into your ear.

You were sweating ice chips; how you could sweat and still be cold was beyond your comprehension. Perhaps its better that you were cold and not hot because there was no “wasting water” of any amount in the bunker; not even to cool off a pregnant woman in labor.

You screamed and growled in pain, only to spat insults at Roan; while attempting to break every bone in his hand, for compensation. He was a good, but slightly terrified, sport about it and continued encouraging you with the occasional apology. One final push and your shrieking baby was born. Abby looked at the squirming irritated babe in her hands with slight panic.

“What? What’s the matter?” You asked in confusion, before the unbridled panic set in; “Is something wrong with my child?! Give me my baby!”

You held your arms out, expectantly, only to become furious when Abby handed the babe off to Jackson; who took her to a different part of the room.

“NOW! GIVE ME MY BABY, NOW!” You wailed, your angry and agony, over your baby’s wellbeing, beginning to enter twine. Roan began to become angry to, as he saw the state you’d quickly been reduced too.

“Give us our baby, now; or I’ll have your heads” He snarled but was interrupted by a different and sharper cry of pain, leaving your lips.

Y our hand quickly cupped your swollen belly to soothe the pain in your lower abdomen.

“There’s another!” Abby whispered; “I had to have Jackson check your daughter; she was ice cold and had a blueish tint to her skin, but you need to concentrate on the birthday of your second baby.”

“Daughter? Roan and I have a daughter?” You whispered, with hitched breaths induced in pain. To which Abby confirmed with a firm nod and soft yes.

“Malia.” Roan said.

Your smile, at hearing her name, left your face as another pain hit you and you focused on delivering your second child. It took 4 more pushes before your second baby was brought into the world. Abby looked at the child and told you and Roan had a son, before she hears Jackson perplexed voice.

“Huh, Abby? Do you have any idea why this baby was born with blue blood?”

Everyone’s held shot to Jackson as he held up a tube of blood with a blueish silver to show Abby.

“Azblidas!” Gaia exclaimed, with an awe-struck face; “Queen (Y/N) was given birth to a god and goddess among men. Far more sacred and rare than Natblidas and a lot stronger and faster than them too. They’re nearly invincible, its incredibility hard to mortally injure an Azblida. They hold the highest positions in grounder society and each one is as legendary as the next one. An Azblida hasn’t been born in over a century and now there are two.

Gaia had come to the delivery in the hopes of your child being a Natblida but was graced with not one, but two children destined to be the most powerful beings in your world.

“This is a sign that the old ways of the faith are not dead. We must show our loyalty to the faith; protect them at all cost and train the Azblidas in the sacred ways, when they’re old enough.” Indra spoke, as she stepped up next to her daughter side. Indra had thought the days of the faith were dead, but she had been proven wrong; in more ways than one.

“Well now that we’ve decide my babes are strong and healthy; can I have my babies now?” You tiredly asked.

Abby and Jackson gave you and Roan your children and everyone left to give you privacy. “We have a beautiful son and daughter, my king”

He contently hummed in agreement; “Malia and Tobias, the strongest of the strong; you did an amazing job, my queen. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

|Flashback; The Dark Year|

A famine had stormed the bunker and threatened to take everyone to the shores of the afterlife. No environmental calamity on earth had ever scared you as much as this famine and you lived through the Second Pramfiya. You were born in Azgeda and lived through the deadliest winters know to man, deep within the territory of Azegda, at the royal dwelling built in a region named; The Land of Eternal Winter. Those winters in perpetual ice glaciers and snow was easier to deal with than this famine.

You had been sick to your stomach ever since you and Roan’s meeting with Octavia and the other advisors. Cooper had told you the extent of the damage to the hydro farm and the only response to Octavia question on how to feed 1200 people, was Abby’s. You could live with throwing real criminals, that truly threatened the people surviving, into the pit. However, throwing people in there to fight to the death so we had a protein source was horrifying barbaric; even for Azgeda.

“This is wrong. It dangerous.” You stated, and everyone turned to you; “All of you know as well as I do that what your considering is a pandora box waiting to be open. That’s always what happens…It. Never. End. Well. For any of us!”

“Then give me another option.” Octavia’s eyes pleaded you. “Please!” she begged, in whisper to you. She didn’t want to consider what Abby suggested, you knew that, but it seemed to be the only option if she wanted her people to survive the six years.

You and Roan shared a worried look before Octavia ended the meeting.

______________

You and Roan sat side by side at the same table with Octavia and the other advisors; where your gaze lingered down at the big red cube. Roan’s face gave a slight grimace at the sight of his cube and when Octavia gave her speech and took a bite, you knew it would end badly. You and Roan remained unmoved, and locked gazes with one another, before Abby called your name.

“(Y/N). If you don’t get the nutrients your body needs, eventually it becomes a very high outcome that your body will stop producing milk and you’d no longer be able to feed Malia and Tobias.”

Your eyes widened at the very likely possibly. It hadn’t crossed your mind that the affect to the rest of your body would also affect your babies only food source. Still you needed to know from someone you could completely trust, so you call out Marcus’ name to which he responded.

“Is it true, Marcus? It that a very likely possibility?” He hesitated before sighing with a nod. You looked in Roan’s direction to see his heavily burdened and troubled eyes; he to hadn’t consider the possibility.

You couldn’t endanger your children any more than they already were. Roan grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers as he whispered;

“Together. We do it together like we always do.”

You gave a slight nod, “Together. To ensure Malia and Tobias survive.” You gazed at the cube in exasperation and dread.

This will end badly. For everyone.

|Flashback; training the twins|

Tobias and Malia were growing fast and would be nearing their 6th birthday soon enough. The older and stronger they grew, the more Blodreina showed interest in them. Whether the attention extended from what they and their blood could give her or take from her, was unknown. That notion alone was an unsettling and endless haunting, that antagonized the forever-watchful parents.

To you, Blodreina was a red serpent, hidden and patience, waiting to strike and take all you held dear and sacred. You never imagined you’d see Octavia as your enemy, but now Octavia wasn’t just an enemy. She was your greatest enemy, and the most dangerous of all the enemies you’d ever faced. One thing you were 100% sure of; Blodreina was a threat, that you and Roan couldn’t afford when it came to your Azblida children.

She wouldn’t do anything questionable, as of right now, though. Your children had acquired quite the following from both former Trikru and Azgeda alike. Not only people of the old faith, but also people who turn away in disgust of the way people live in Wonkru and believe Blodreina has truly crossed some of the most important limits and lines.

There was a little over 400 faith followers; leaving it an even fight after hundreds died in the fighting pits for sport among other reasons. Despite what Octavia may think about Wonkru’s strength, it wasn’t enough to overthrow 300 years of faith. Especially after the wonders you delivered into the world when you bared your ice-blooded children to your husband.

Gaia and Indra were finishing up the twins’ lessons for the day when suddenly everyone in the room was silenced by a loud roar coming from down the hallway. Malia abruptly turned to the sudden noise only to get whacked in the arm with a practice staff, by her slightly younger brother, Tobias. Mal sharply turned back to look at Tobi out of the corner of her eyes, with a dangerous glint in her gaze. She needn’t say anything for her glare said more than her words ever could; as if to say, ‘Back off! Or you’re gonna get it, Tobi.’

“Mal’s got her mother’s glare, for sure.” Roan guffawed, when he saw Mal’s reaction. Tobi gave his sister a sheepish look and a soft apology.

“Tobi’s got his father’s guilty stare, for sure.” You softly snarked, with a whisper of a smile; letting Roan know you were only joking. He heartily chuckled at the tongue lash as he pulled you into him to give you a deep kiss; to which you gave back. Malia stormed over a question she asked many times, but never got an answer too.

“Momma, what’s that noise we always hear from the end of the hallway? Behind the red doors with the strange symbol on it.”

Gaia and Indra halted as they shared a look with each other before sharing a similar one with you and Roan. The guards and the two women wait for your response to the inquisitive girl’s question. You sigh before you decide to tell them.

You leave Roan’s arms and walk to the young boy and girl; “A faithless and immoral world lays beyond those doors. A world bathed in red- “

“Why red, Ma?” The soft voice of Tobias spoke, as his head cocked to the side.

“Because it is a place where blood flows and never stops. It will forever be painted in blood and living in that world are monstrous creatures declaring themselves human; who never cease in their howls for carnage. Many people have died in that place for simple pleasure. The monsters in disguise made those people fight in a lonely and terrifying place, known as the pit. Similar to the Gladiators of Ancient Rome and all the while they only roar in hunger for more. You must never find yourself in that position. It is the one place in the world where you will truly be alone. You’ll have no friends, no support, not even each other.”

Malia and Tobias hang onto her every word; “Why couldn’t we just fight our way to each other and our freedom, Momma?”

“You can try, my darlings. However, even if you were to kill all of your opponents, there will be a Great Red Serpent, coiled on a throne of chrome, waiting hidden and patience. Even if you’re the last one standing, she still gets to decide whether you live or die. Promise me you will never find yourself in such a place that lacks all honor and humanity. Even if you do find yourself unfortunate enough to be in such a place, promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to free yourselves.”

They both immediately swore it to you, and you gave a firm nod in acknowledgment. Once they returned to finishing up their training you looked to Roan and you both shared a look of understanding as you sought the comfort of his arms. It was only a matter of time.

It was all just a big waiting game.

|Flashback; Bellamy saves your family|

You slowly approached Bellamy from your place at Roan side; sliding through the space between Tobias and Malia, who were hugged, protectively, to you and Roan’s bodies. A defense mechanism developed early on in the time since your twins were born, and rightfully so.

Several emotions seemed to flow over Bellamy’s face at the sight of you; Shock, happiness, love, and a look you knew only too well. Fear. You and Bellamy were best friends, practically brother and sister, ever since you first met in Polis. It was an unlikely bond formed between two people from two different worlds, but somehow you both were able to look past that particular difference.

When you saw the fear pass over him, all you wanted to do was show him you weren’t mad at him for not being able to keep his promise. In a way he did come back and that’s exactly what you told him. You looked at him in awe as you reached him and quickly pulled him into a tight hug, “You came back…you kept your promise to me.”

You’ve felt and seen enough fear to last a lifetime, but that is no more, now that Bellamy had freed you all from the serpent cloaked in red death. You knew the words registered in his mind after a few seconds because his arms immediately tightened around you, in a comforting strength. You placed your lips near his right ear to whisper, “Thank you, Bells. You saved us all from the Red Serpent.”

As you pulled away and watched his reaction, he looked at you in a questioning worry. “(Y/N/N) …” he whispered, before his concerned eyes connected with Octavia’s soulless irises.

His gaze dropped back to you and what appeared to be a sad but edged anxiety shrouding your tired features. Your eyes and words told him everything and nothing about what he needed to know. Then, his attention was captured by two, inhumanly beautiful and young, twins nestled safely against Roan’s sides.

‘You and Roan had children…’ He mused, in mild wonder.

Realization struck Bellamy, when he realized it was a well-guarded and deeply apprehensive fear; heavily veiling your face.

|Present time; Ascension to a Hollow Kingdom|

You assured the twins, after they began to fuss in worry, that you would be waiting for them to ascend, at the top. Poor Tobias looked sick with stress as he watched you like a hawk. He was almost always worrying over something, no matter how big or small, and the fact that he was a Momma’s boy didn’t help his fretting. Roan would fondly say their Tobias takes after his mother; when it came to worrying and pondering.

Tobias was as cautious as he was dangerous, which said a lot to people if they knew him. Malia and Tobias may have been young and not have extensive training, but their mere existence was dangerous; because their blood marked them with a promise of what they could be.

Malia’s blue eyes squinted, at Bellamy, with an edgy distrust. You could help but chuckle when you saw his slight gawk at a 6-year-old glaring at him with a no-bullshit seriousness. He even looked around the area to see if it was really him, she was staring down. It was a glare so familiar that Bellamy couldn’t decide whether the girl inherited the expression from you or Roan.

You and Roan shared a brief but passionate kiss before you made your way to Bellamy, and the rope that would lift you and your family to your freedom. Bellamy wrapped his arm around your waist with a quick side glance to Malia and her relentless hawk eyes.

“Bells, you’re not afraid of my 6-year-old, are you?” You teased, as you were both lifted up. Bellamy’s head slightly jerked back as he spoke;

“What? Of course not, she’s just a kid.” He said, quietly as if he were almost afraid Mal would hear.

“Uh huh, yeah whatever gets you through the day.” You taunted, “By the way, I like the scruff. Very sexy.”

He laughed at the playful comment, as he slyly looked at you, and jokingly says; “I thought you might. You always had a thing for men with scruffs”

“No, I always had a thing for Roan with a scruff.” You giggled with mirth. The two of you, soon enough, reached the beautiful and blinding light that glowed around you. Two foreign men helped you to ground level and you froze in awe as you take in the sight laid before you. It was a wasteland, but it was Earth, your home. You vaguely felt Bellamy’s eyes, hovering on you, but you were more focused with all the open space as far as the eyes could see.

Something you had forgotten while cramped into that hellish bunker with 1999 other people. “all go down to get your kids and then Roan.” He said, to which you nodded.

This is what’s left of Polis, a place where all the clans could unite in peace. You didn’t have time to ponder anymore on the thought as you heard the voices of your children.

“Move your hand, rockhead!” Mal snapped at Tobi; only for Tobi to glare at her with pursed lips, “Move your face, halfwit!”

Bellamy appeared to be making great effort to not laugh and looked to you for help. You took mercy on him and called your twins attention to you, “Alright, that’s enough. Can’t you two go 5 mins without making attempts to rip each other a new one?”

They both mumbled an apology before looking around with a new wonder in their eyes you haven’t had the pleasure of seeing until now. “This is where you come from Momma?”

You smile and nod, “It’s different from when your dad and I lived up here though. Before the Second Pramfiya, it used to be covered in fields of grass and trees and bushes as far as the eyes can see, but never-the-less I’m glad to be home and I’m happy that I get to show you our world.”

They smile and cheer before venturing the foreign area, while still remaining close to your side. You turn as you hear Roan’s voice; “I think this is the happiest we’ve ever seen them.”

You turned and hugged him as you watch them explore. “I think you right, but hopefully we’ll be able to give them happiness now that we’re free.” Roan nodded in agreement.

“They look so beautiful and sweet together.” You said before Roan leaned down to place a kiss on your lips. You both pulled away when you heard the twins bickering;

“Shut up, Mouthbreather!” Mal practically spits out, and Tobi turns back to his twin to give her a good tongue lash;

“Oh, that great coming from you, Colonel Flap-jaw!”

Bellamy couldn’t contain himself any longer and starting howling in laughter at the twins’ insults; he continued to laughter as he looks at you and Roan, “Yeah, those are your kids, alright!”

You and Roan sharing an amused glance before chuckling at your kids.

#king roan #Roan #prince roan #prince roan imagines #prince roan imagine #prince roan x reader #king roan imagine #King Roan imagines #king roan x reader #The 100 #the 100 imagines #roan of azgeda

139 notes · View notes