Disclaimer: I don't own stuffs.

FYI: This first takes place three hundred years after the end of the old world, not ninety seven.

By the time you had cleared the noise from your head and stumbled back up to your frostbitten feet, Clarke was already in front of you, sure hands gently grasping strong shoulders; wide, frightened, icy, eyes staring back into your own. Warmth flooded first your frozen limbs and then your chest until the cold was no longer noticeable, and you spared a glance down at Clarke's medallion and the winking dragon eye held within.

You didn't have much time to silently thank Soren, for the ground shook under both of your feet like a heavy tremor, and then the thundering steps and savage howls of a giant could be heard coming your way.

"Now, Aurora!" Touching the locket dangling from your neck, you called forth flight and wrapped your arms around the blonde, taking off into the air, not daring not to look back at the carnage left behind. Neither of you had time to waste, Clarke especially. She couldn't die here, and she most certainly couldn't die now. Her destiny was much grander, as was yours; just in a incredibly different way.

-97 Years Later-

Clarke shot up off the unyielding obsidian stone, coughing and immediately flopping to the cobbled ground. The spot between her breasts where Soren dangled burned, and she lifted the chain, grinning at the familiarity of the dragon winking. The eye shifted around in the amulet, using it's charms to take in the room they'd fallen into deepest slumber in. It was massive, the pedestal she'd fallen from sitting atop a large stepped dais which she was sitting at the top of now. Tactically designed.

"Go ahead, old friend, spread your wings. We've been here for some time. I'll stretch my legs." She blinked, the eye closing and the amulet losing it's subtle luminance as the massive dragon appeared in the room, displacing all the dust in the room until it surrounded her in a low cloud.

Clarke climbed down the dais, hand balanced on the hilt of her favorite dagger, practiced hands caressing the perfectly worn wood. When she reached Soren she raise her left hand to caress along the underside of the humongous wings, giggling when they twitched from the tickling feeling Soren sometimes complained of.

"So?"

"No one familiar, but there are others. None open to me, however. At least five within range, perhaps one or two more." Her voice was both deep and soothing beyond measure, and somehow also light and lilting. It was a gift to hear it's familiar tone again, and Clarke placed a tender kiss at the end of her muzzle when she reached her head. But she stopped, nearly stumbling back a few feet.

"Wait, what? Five?! Five..." Soren nuzzled her, wrapping warm, leathery, wings around the trembling woman.

"We knew this was a possibility, Klark. One we direly hoped would not come to pass, but a possible outcome none-the-less."

"No, I know. I know. Just...it's Aurora. This wasn't her fight, Soren. It wasn't. I dragged her into this. She could have lived a normal life."

"You drug her into nothing, Skaiprisa. Whether or not you believe it or we wanted it to be, this fight is bigger than any of us. If she had not taken up arms, would she or Bellamy had survived the destruction of Mecha? Would she have Octavia? All of this was written. You know that. I grieve her with you. But if we will stop the events already in motion we must go. Now." Clarke just nodded, carefully climbing up around the dragon's neck and onto the intricately designed blue saddle that blended in so well to the cobalt scales that surrounded it.

With a rush of forceful wind and a familiar whooshing sound they sweeping out of the massive entrance into the temple, Clarke immediately applying the invisibility incantation, glad of it when they passed a group of Black Dekators climbing the hundreds of steps up the White Mountain.

She frowned as they sped away, wrapping a warm hand around Soren's left horn. The dragon huffed, clearly just as concerned about the presence of the Black Dekators near where they'd been so vulnerable and weak just moments ago.

"Where do we go, prisa? The further we fly from the temple the clearer it is that more time has passed than was supposed to." Soren asked quietly as they passed an incredibly familiar statue, massive and green now from heavy patina where it had been shining copper. It's visage was of the Great Jacob Griffin, Clarke's long passed father.

"We need to find the Blakes. Though Aurora is gone, her line should have continued with Bellamy and perhaps even Octavia. I hope so, at least. I'll reach out for the locket. In the meantime, we should go to the Mountain Grove. I know you well enough to know you're starving. You can hunt while I meditate.

"You aren't wrong. The Grove it is."

-Somewhere nearby-

"Wait, did you feel that?" Octavia stopped, pressing her hand against her temple as the lightest amount of pain pulsed there for a second before it was soothed with warmth. Next to her, Mirilieth, condensed into a mostly humanoid form frowned, looking up at the sky to the south there was nothing standing out but the titan that was the statue of Jacob Griffin, but she felt that subtle pulse too, though she couldn't be sure that it hadn't come from Octavia and their link.

"Yes... but what was that? Almost like-"

"Yeah. I thought so too. But that's impossible right? There's only us along with Heda and General Anya in Polis. They sent us, they wouldn't follow, right? We've earned our place."

"Worry not, little one. We have. I spoke with Costia and Tris before we departed. They have the utmost faith in us. In you, Octavia."

Their quest was to follow the Black Dekators as they left the 'City of Light' and dispose of them before they could grab the freshly awoken Skaiprisa and Soren while they were weak. Octavia had realized the best plan was to follow all the way to the temple, listen to everything that was said between the twisted warriors for the sake of intel, and force them to fight a battle on two fronts when they attempted to defeat the Princess and the Great Draconis.

Now though, they could hear trouble from up ahead as the Black Dekators entered the temple. Swiftly, they followed to it's entrance, finding the entire place devoid of other presence.

Octavia and Mirilieth attacked, taking down first two and then four of the soldiers until only five remained. Putrid blood dripped from their blades and Mirilieth grew in size to tower over them all, standing to nearly ten feet before she stopped.

Before long, the rest were dead, choking on their own sick blood during their last, tortured, moments. Frowning, Octavia took the blade of the last one, recognizing that it most certainly didn't belong to him. It was of elven origin and for some reason looked strikingly familiar, though the young warrior couldn't put her finger on exactly why that was. She held it out to Mirilieth, who had shrunk back to size and examined the blade closely.

"Whoever it belongs to, we'll have to worry about it later. They aren't here, which means they've gone already. We head back to the Grove. Heda will want to know we missed them. Hop on." The dragon swiftly shifted back into her familiar, sleek, form. Bright silver with large, familiar hazel eyes. Octavia climbed on and strapped the new sword into one of the scabbards that hung from the saddle as they took off, on their way to the Mountain Grove.

-50 Miles East, Forest On The Outskirts Of The Village Of Arkadia-

"Oh for fucks sake Wick, stop complaining. Who's the one with the gimp leg here, huh?"

"Look, I'm an engineer. I'm not used to all of this hiking and shit. I'd rather be working on the generator project any day. Geez, how are you even so used to doing all this shit already? We've only been here for a few months." Rolling her eyes at him and continuing to search through the scattered components of the Ark's old comm antenna, Raven quietly cheered when she finally found another useful chipset, placing it carefully in her bag.

"No. You've only been here for a six months. I've been here for a year. You wanna work on the generator project, go work on it. I don't need you out here slowing me down anyway. You're fucking useless." He huffed and stalked off, tossing the two chips he'd found her way. She staggered to catch them, fully intent on eviscerating that asshole when she got back home.

Tripping on a hidden root, she tripped and tumbled, barely able to cradle the bag next to her stomach while she tumbled down a steep incline and landed on harsh marble. Raven wheezed and stared up at the sky above her and rocky wall she'd fallen down. It was a miracle she hadn't broken or twisted anything to begin with.

The issue was it was an at least a fifteen foot climb and despite the roots and sturdy looking hand and foot holds she knew she wouldn't make it out with her leg the way it was.

"Wick!" She screamed as loudly as possible for nearly twenty minutes until she gave up, reaching into her other pack for her canteen to drink from, finally glancing around her surroundings.

She just now noticed her surroundings for the first time, unable to hold in a shocked gasp. She was standing in a highly intact Draconis temple, torches now lit because of her presence, she guessed. That's how she'd been told it worked. Old charms showing their resilience. Half the torches burned red and the others gold, alternating along the long hallway before her.

Slowing crawling to her knees, Raven touched the somewhat worn symbol of the Draconis on the smooth floor, hissing when her finger was pricked by the sharp edge of the dragon's teeth, a few drops of blood welling to the surface before it dripped to the floor.

Finally getting to her feet, sucking her tender fingertip between her lips, she was barely steady when the view in front of her disappeared and a loud whooshing sound filled her ears.

Less than a second later, she was no longer in the entry hall, and was instead standing in a well lit and massive room, old but well kept sets of armor set against each wall. She stepped forward to examine one but was halted when a pedestal appeared in front of her, the visage of Jacob Griffin and his Draconis appearing upon it.

"Reivon kom Skaikru. Yu laik hir."

"Gonasleng, Cerulean. She doesn't speak Trigadesleng. Not yet, at least. Right, Raven?"

"Right. But I'm working on it. Bought a few books from Trikru traders. You're a whisper. Both of you. But why would you activate for me..?"

"You, Raven kom Skaikru, are more important than you would have ever guessed. Though some may not see it, your destiny; your future... is bigger than being the truly amazing mechanic you are. And not just because you are one of the Twelve."

"The Twelve?" Why did that sound familiar? Jake bumped his shoulder into the large dragon's as if it would have any effect, and Raven had to chuckle, breathing deep to keep it from turning into a maniacal cackle. Her? Important? Destined for greatness? They must have the wrong girl. Clearly.

"Look, not that I don't appreciate the confidence boost and everything, but I'm not who you think I am. I'm just a crippled mechanic who's 'future' and 'destiny' is to continue being an overworked, unappreciated genius. I'm sorry to disappoint you. I really am. You've been stuck here for more than a hundred years waiting for me of all people, and that sucks, honestly.

"But I'm not some brave Trikru warrior, some legendary Floukru swashbuckler. I'm just a fucking mechanic, guys. That's it. That's all I'm useful for."

She may have seemed flippant, but it hurt just as much to say as it had always hurt to hear, and she winced at her words hit their mark and caused that same familiar ache and loneliness in chest. She really did wish she was who they thought she was, so maybe she could do something important.

Feel important. To someone or for something. Anything. But she'd long ago learned her lesson, and hope for someone like her always, always led to pain and disappointment.

She grimaced as the tiny whispers standing on the pedestal grew until at their real world sizes, Cerulean laying on the floor, head on his claws with a sort of almost pout twisting his features. Jake, however, seemed to solidify quite a bit, and placed two warm hands on her shoulders. One of the kindest smiles she'd ever been witness to curved his lips and he rubbed the stiffness from her posture until she relaxed some.

"I know how you have lived, Raven. I know what you've endured. With your mother especially. The pain, the fear, the anger, the regret. I understand. I really do. I know that pain intimately. That betrayal. It shaped me into the man I was. Just as it has shaped you. You are more than you know. More than even you will come to know.

"I keep telling you I'm not who you think I am. I'm nothing." Cerulean whined in a odd draconic way, then nudged her thigh, and from across the room there could be heard a strange, dry, cracking sound before something seemed to shatter.

Jake grinned and dropped his hands from her shoulders, stepping back as a bundle of golden scales flew towards her and bowled her over.

"Holy shit!" She squeaked, flinching away from the pink tongue licking at her face. She finally sat up, cradling the tiny dragon in her arms and getting a look at him.

"Chill out with all the licking lil'bit. I need this beautiful face here slobber free, thanks." The little dragon, scales brilliant gold and underbelly still soft, ignored her request and licked her again. Unable to keep her gleeful chuckle in, Raven finally stood back to feet carefully.

The drag mewled softly, cuddling up under her neck.

"So now you see what we meant, Reivon."

"Rei...Rei-von." The little dragon said, voice soft and sweet.

"Yep, that's me. What about you, little guy?"

"He turned his head to the side, looking remarkably like the dogs and puppies Raven used to watch in the old movies with Finn.

"Raven, meet Xeinon. Your Draconis." She looked down at the young, adorable, dragon then back at Jake and then Cerulean, chuckling.

"He's mine?"

"As you are his. As you know, relationships between people and dragons aren't like, for example, a warrior and her horse. There is no ownership. Cerulean was only mine in the same sense that I was his. Do you understand?" She nodded, caressing the dragon's head carefully, minding the tiny little newborn feathers she knew all bird's of prey were born with and kept until adolescence.

"I understand. I raise him, protect him, until we're both ready to stand by each other's sides. He's a bird of prey, so it should only be six to nine months before he reaches maturity, right little buddy?" She caressed his head again, huffing when he flew from her arms to drop to the floor, immediately investigating her leg and the brace surrounding it.

Before she could warn him of being careful, his jaws clamped down on the salvaged steel and he tore it free like it was made of soft wax, an immediate rush of his fire rushing over her jeans until they burned away, the fire not burning her but instead soothing the pain first falling to the floor then standing had produced. Carefully, he licked at her scars, and she gasped as she felt her leg strengthen, bending her knee to test what he'd done.

"What did he do?"

"Healed you. It's only possible with the most devoted draconis. Those who love their counterparts and know that love is returned." She frowned, hopping around on her feet. Nothing hurt, at least nothing in her leg. She reached down to pick him up, soothing her hand over his feathers and pressing a kiss to his muzzle.

"Mochof, Xeinon."

"Pro, Reivon." Humming and choosing not to hide the massive grin that was already curving her lips, she turned back to a smiling Jake and Cerulean.

"Thank you. You know, for giving me a real purpose. Something to actually fucking believe in, I guess. And a friend, too, obviously. Preciate ya! Is there anything I can do for you?" Jake and Cerulean both glanced at each other, clearly making some decision together before Jake nodded.

"There's a blue crystal in the pedestal. It holds; well... us. The fact that you're here means Clarke is awake. As has been said, as you have read. The princess awakens, the warrior follows, the guardian protects, the commander awaits, the general prepares, the wizard rescues."

"The Guardian. I'm the Guardian?"

"Sha." Cerulean spoke quietly, kind eyes focused elsewhere. On Xeinon, who had crawled atop her shoulder and sat there now staring at the much larger dragon.

"Okay. That I know what to do with. The Guardian. The protector of the weak. The voice for those without one."

"Exactly. That is exactly who you are. Now, the crystal. Take it with you, keep it safe. Clarke deserves a chance to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? But you're on the crystal permanently, right? Why would she have to?"

"It can only contain these whispers of us for so long. Something more powerful would be needed otherwise."

"I can do that Jake. I found this in some ruins a few weeks after the hundred landed. It protected me from the fog. It can hold you, I'm sure of it. If that's something you want. More time with your daughter." Reaching under her collar, Raven retrieved the heavy green crystal that had stayed around her neck since that day that felt so long ago.

"That! It's the wizards stone! You're the best, kid. If you can get to the Mountain Grove, Wells can help you transfer us to that."

"Then it's a deal. Guessing this place isn't on a map. How do I get there? Where is it?" He frowned, tapping his fingers against his forearm while he glanced around the large room. His eyes stopped on a particular set of armor and he grinned. The armor was dark and almost foreboding, but the more Raven looked at it the more familiar and soft it seemed. The metal was a deep dark grey, and it's curves were elegant and beautiful.

"Perfect! Look, put that armor on. It's charmed. Basically, you'll be able to fly. To be honest it was sort of made for you."

"For me?"

"Made by a friend of mine for the Guardian. That being you. It should fit no problem." We'll go back into the crystal. You put it on, take the crystal with you when you go." He grinned and then winked at her before both and Cerulean disappeared.

-Some Time Later-

Half an hour later, after a little struggle, Raven had the armor on. It had looked and even felt heavy piece by piece, but now it was on her she couldn't even notice the weight. There was a sword in a scabbard on the wall above the armor and she strapped that on, it's weight too diminishing immediately. Stalking over to the pedestal, she retrieved the blue whisper crystal and packed it away carefully behind her chestplate before she and Xeinon stalked down long hallways, the little dragon leading the way towards the whole she'd fallen down.

"Shoulder, Xeinon" She breathed deep, and once he was safe upon her shoulder, tiny claws digging securely into her pauldron, she bent her knees and jumped, flailing wildly until she landed softly on the dirt above on bended knee. Standing, Raven looked towards where the village was, debating dropping of the recovered chips to them for a few moments before she decided to leave the components in a rough sack near where she and Wick had been arguing hours before. The sun was close to setting and she didn't have much time to get to the Grove if she wanted to help the Sky Princess see her father again, in one form or another.

With a gentle lick to her cheek, Xeinon encouraged her, and she jumped again, this time much higher; far above the trees below. In fact she could see Arkadia. She was hovering already, and she turned towards the southwest, kicking her boots together and yelping in surprise and excitement as she jetted off towards this Mountain Grove that held her future in it's midst.

-100 miles northeast-

Wells Jaha once again watched as his father ordered for the dragon Tyssis to burn another innocent alive. The dragon obeyed; the ashes were swept away with the wind, and Wells felt sympathy for both the victim and the perpetrator swell in his chest.

Dull grey eyes, once blue, locking onto his own for only a second; but the immense shame and pain was evident. The white dragon had never enjoyed having to do such things, had never wanted it. But Thelonious Jaha was quite often a terrifying man, and the hold he had over Tyssis The Champion of Light had seemed absolute for so long that he had forgotten that almost nothing on the earth was absolute.

Even this. Especially this. His father had grown lazy over time, eventually ignoring the warning he had been given about strengthening the magical chains of Dominion over the dragon daily.

Now, after measuring and testing for the last year, it was time. Finally time. He nodded at Tyssis, touching his hand to his heart as a promise then standing to clap his hand over his father's back in the pretense of congratulations. On the opposite side of the throne, both Blake and Pike were doing the same thing but in earnest, Bellamy waving forwards the next victim with sickening glee.

The boy was thin and clearly malnourished, bruises and blood covering nearly every inch of visible skin. Monty. That was his name, Wells remembered. One of his duties had been as apprentice palace brewer. The Prince's dark eyes softened as he gazed down at the abused teenager, and a plan hatched in his mind within seconds. One that would tie in nicely to those already meant to be carried out today.

"This traitor... should he not be tortured, father? Ripped apart limb by limb and kept alive to watch The Champion devour pieces of him?" His father looked up at him, a gleeful smile stretching his lips.

"You, my son, are brilliant. And your idea has merit. Perhaps that's what we'll do. After all, the boy did free a large group of the palace's slaves. He must pay for our losses. You can keep him alive?"

"I can. Perhaps the three of us can even partake, if we may, father. If we heat our blades we can flay him alive and he won't lose enough blood to die. Then he can watch himself be eaten." Bellamy chuckled, shaking his hand firmly though his mind was obviously already lost in the fantasy of the elaborate torture Wells had thought up.

"Go ahead. This sounds like exactly the right kind of spectacle to teach the slaves who they serve."

Well's nodded, bowing his head before he climbed down the stepped dais and drew his sword, petting Tyssis on the head and silently asking him to heat the blade. The dragon did as asked, but his large brows furrowed, it was obvious he was worried. When Pike and Bellamy came down and stood close enough events set into motion and Wells grabbed the clearly frightened young Monty and did something no one on the gigantic castle balcony expected.

He danced backwards, dragging the malnourished Monty with him and swung his sword backwards, slicing clean through flesh and bone and sending Pikes head rolling to the cobblestone. Quickly, he snatched the Auroran amulet from around Bellamy's neck and snapped his fingers before the larger man could react with more than a rageful expression. A second later, the entire scene was frozen with the exception of him, the dragon, and the boy, and he sliced clean through Tyssis' chains, climbing up onto the rarely used saddle and pulled the lanky boy up in front of him.

The great white dragon pumped his massive wings once and they were off, clearing the castle and the surrounding mountain in merely seconds. He reached forward to rub smooth scales, using a routinely practiced spell to dispel the last of his father's hold on the humongous Draconis.

"You saved me... you...why?"

"No one deserved to die the way those people did. I'm just sorry I had to wait as long as I did for the bonds of domination to shatter." He placed his hands on the boys hips, closing his eyes to push healing magic through Monty's body, smiling when it seemed he'd fixed most if not all of the damage.

"Thank you. Will you take me home? Back to Arkadia I mean. It's been so long. Everyone's probably forgotten about me, but I just... it's been so long since I've seen that stupid sign above the gate."

"I do intend to take you home, yes. But first I have urgent business with the Commander. I promise I'll take you home, Monty. I promise. For now, though. Here, eat. I know they weren't feeding you." He reached under the white cloak over his armor and pulled out a leather sack filled with dried meat; provisions for the trip.

Monty looked back at him with a gentle smile and nodded, digging in with the kind of abandon Wells was all too familiar with.

He looked back up at the lowering sun, assuming they'd reach the Grove by morning, as tired as Tyssis likely was. He meant his promise, truly. He would deliver the boy home as soon as he had delivered his news to the Commander and the rest of the twelve present.