If I had a heart,
I could love you.
If I had a voice,
I could sing.
The only sounds Cress could hear was the pattering of the rain against the soft, muddied ground that squelched and squinched beneath the hooves of Cress's steed, Anik. The horse, similar to Cress, was an outcast; but, unlike Cress, Anik's deformity was on the outside- hence the six legs, the two pairs of front legs and the single pair of hind legs. Cress's deformity was more of a mental problem, a longing, a wanting. Cress shivered slightly, gaining chills for some unknown reason that made her draw the bearskin cloak closer over her shoulders, the fur wet against her already cold skin. She and her horse maneuvered through the underbrush and trees, the horse just as cold and tired as its rider. Cress drew in a shaky breath, her ice blue eyes half open, half closed in some weird, spacey coma. After what seemed like hours, and seeing that the rain had not let up, the grounder warrior slid from the horse's back and took the worn leather reins in her calloused hands. The feel, the smell, of the leather brought back old and painful childhood memories and the only thing that brought Cress back from the painful reminiscing was Anik nickering softly and nudging his owner's elbow gently.
"Heya der, Anik," Cress said softly, running her thumb down the horse's soft, velvety nose. "Chil au, ste yuj."
The horse nickered in response, but Cress took it as an answer anyways. She gently tugged on the horse's reins, leading the horse through the muddy terrain. Cress had heard the news of the Commander's passing, the great and famed Lexa had passed some time ago, perhaps a handful of weeks- but Cress did not keep track of time, nor did she keep contact with most people. With her free hand, Cress pulled her falchion from the sheath tied to her right thigh when she heard the low rumbling of some beast or monster, which was causing Anik to panic and pace.
"Chil au," Cress repeated to the horse, though she felt a bit afraid, too. Cress wasn't exactly in fighting shape at the moment, as she'd already been injured the day before from some ice warrior who had attempted to steal Anik. That brawl had caused Cress a gash in her left arm, which had been messily bandaged with some long fern leaves. "Chon ste der?" Cress demanded, her heartbeat racing. She heard a string of low, whispering murmurs.
Then, after a while, "Okay, look, put your weapon down." A deep, throaty voice said. So, these humans were Skaikru.
Cress swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to spot her enemies. "Show yourselves," Cress demanded, her grip on her weapon only tightening.
"Drop your weapon first,"
"Never."
A tall, lanky string-bean of a human crept forwards, a gun in his hands. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, weeks even. "Raise your hands," He said, "And you'll get off easy."
Cress watched him, weighing her options. He was obviously sleep-deprived, and maybe drunk, and he was shaking horribly; so Cress could potentially overpower him, but at what cost? Her teeth dug into her lower lip lightly, but she let go of Anik's reins and jumped at the guy, her falchion slashing his gun out of his hands and towards the ground.
"I got a hostile!" The man cried out, his eyes wide with fear. Cress's eyes darted towards the underbrush just as an olive-skinned girl drove herself forwards. The girl cocked her gun, aimed, and fired. Cress stumbled back a bit, her blue eyes wide, as she glanced down to see the dart in her side. She stumbled backwards again, slumping to the ground, her knees in the mud, before slumping forwards; her world turning dark.
When she woke up, Cress's head was spinning wildly and she felt sick. Her wrists were bound behind her back with something strong and she hardly felt like she could stand. Something had been shoved into her mouth, which prevented her from making any sound louder than a grunt. She lifted her gaze to see the olive-skinned woman staring at her with dark brown eyes that pierced Cress's own soul. She was trapped with the brunette in an iron, padded box; something Cress had never seen before.
"You should've just listened to him," The brunette said, shaking her head and tsk-ing softly. Cress only glared, unable to speak to the sky person in front of her. The brunette sighed and moved to pull the piece of cloth from Cress's mouth, freeing her from the prison of fabric that had kept her voice detained.
"I listen to no one," Cress said, spitting on the brunette's shoe.
"Touchy." The brunette said, her face calm and composed, but Cress could detect the anger hidden beneath the woman's eyes. "Seems like a theme for you rogue grounders, you don't like orders. Now, are you Ice Nation? Woods Clan? Desert-"
"I am no one's." Cress hissed.
"So... you're a nomad?" The brunette asked, and was rewarded with a single, taut and reluctant nod. The brunette watched Cress for a long, silent while; either interested, confused, concerned, or all three.
"What?" Cress demanded, sitting up a bit taller. She was taller than the brunette anyways, and much stockier. If she wasn't restrained, she could take the woman down herself; however, the problem was not knowing where she was or how many others the brunette had with her. Instead, Cress rotated her neck a little to pop it and relieve some of the tension in her achy muscles; but then returned her attention to the brunette. "What is this and where are you taking me?" The grounder demanded.
"Um, this is a car." The brunette said, "You're in the back. And, we're taking you to Polis. We noticed something... interesting about you, and we're sure Clarke would like to see you."
"I am not a specimen you can just pull around." Cress said, her glare deepening. "I am not an animal. I did not harm you."
"But you almost harmed my friend." The brunette was studying the weapon in her hand now, Cress's falchion. "This is a nice piece of scrap metal, where'd you get it?"
Cress growled low in her throat, her anger rising, but she pushed it down. "It belongs to my family line. It is not scrap metal."
"Thought you said you were a nomad?"
"I am."
"Then where's your family, hm?" The brunette asked, setting Cress's weapon aside and folding her arms over her chest.
"They're gone. You sky people killed them," Cress spat bitterly.
Raven quirked an eyebrow, "We never killed any nomads-"
"We weren't always nomads, skaigada." Cress growled. "You killed my sister in your ring of fire."
The brunette leaned back a bit, studying Cress. From the front of the car, a small box opening that Cress had not seen, came a voice, "Raven! We're almost there."
"Thanks, Jasper," The woman, Raven, said before returning her gaze to Cress.
"Raven." Cress murmured, as if tasting the name. "Like the big black bird."
"Well, yeah, I guess so." Raven stared at Cress, almost curiously. "And, your name?"
"Why should I tell you? You abducted me." Cress said, eliciting an angry glare and sigh from Raven.
"Because you'll have to tell Clarke sooner or later," Raven said, raising her chin slightly, "You're a Nightblood."
Cress began to frown, the frown then turned into a glare. "You took my blood?"
"Your arm was wounded, we bandaged it for you. Your blood was black."
Cress growled softly. "You had no right to do that,"
"Had no right to help you?" Raven demanded. Cress gave a low nod, then settled back against the metal of the wall. She felt the vehicle pull to a stop, to which she cocked her head and listened, curious. The doors on the east to Cress opened and Raven snatched Cress's arm and pulled her up. "Let's go, Nightblood."
Cress allowed them to lead her through the throngs of people gathered outside. Some were wounded, others were tending to the wounded. Cress's icy eyes lifted up and examined a rather tall building, to which the skaikru seemed to be leading her. It wasn't long before they entered it, moving towards a crudely constructed lift that was obviously in place of the original.
"Watch your step, grounder." The man, Jasper, said. Cress did not reply, nor did she show any emotion. She did not care what the skaikru thought. The lift began moving, lurching upwards in a way that gave Cress a bit of anxiety. The lift was slow and seemed to shake, and Cress already didn't like heights. The lift stopped after what seemed like forever and when it did stop, Raven pulled Cress off the lift again and led her towards a rather large room. On the large bed, a blonde woman was sitting, staring silently at a slightly crumbled drawing.
"Clarke?" Raven asked, a slight frown upon her features. Clarke looked up, a bit of confusion on her eyes but then it was replaced by some cold, unknown emotion.
"Raven, who's this?" Clarke asked, standing up.
"Clarke, we found this grounder out in the woods during a patrol." Raven began, "I don't know her name, she wouldn't tell us, but there's something you need to see." Raven sat Cress on the bed, untying her bandages to show the wound, her bronze skin stained black.
"Nightblood," Clarke murmured, her eyes widening slightly. Raven nodded in response. "What's your name?" Clarke asked Cress, folding her arms over her chest as her eyes met Cress's.
"Cressida." Cress replied. "Kom Louwoda Kliron, respectively,"
"You're from Shadow Valley," Clarke murmured, but the statement was to herself. Cress watched the woman for a long while before she spoke.
"What is it you want from me?" Cress asked, "And can you untie me? I have done nothing wrong."
Clarke moved to untie the woman, speaking when she was done, "You're a Nightblood, correct?"
"Yes."
"Well.. as you know, the commander needs to be a Nightblood. And, the only other Nightblood beside you is not willing to take the job, so..."
"So you're delegating me as your commander?" Cress asked, frowning.
Clarke nodded, "But I doubt you'd ever get a real ceremony."
Hi, guys! So, I've decided that I'm going to rewrite this story. I am doing this because I feel that I didn't fully write what I wanted to convey in this and that the story moved along rather quickly. Now, I plan to update this as frequently as I can, but feel free to PM me ideas you have. Also, since this is a fanfic- this is sort of an AU where there is no second apocalypse.