Trigger warnings for mentions of torture, slow painful death and trauma.
Azgeda Chronicles: Chapter 11: Giving into your worst side:
Azgeda Territory: Norway
Ontari had watched the unnerving transformation go across Klark's face. It was a disturbing thing to see. And it seemed to stick for the rest of the day.
Ontari had been watching Klark for what felt like ages. The words that had left Klark's lips an hour ago made Ontari's blood run cold. Exactly what Nia wanted. It was happening now. The darker desires that Klark had kept so well imprisoned, were now being unearthed. The presence of one vile man was bringing forth Klark's darker wants. Sharp clawed, razor teeth filled mouthed demons were spurting forward. Vicious, glowing eyed, black dogs and bloodthirsty wildcats; all things Ontari had had nightmares of when she was a child, along with the nightmares of the screams that had come from the dungeons that used to scare her as a child, were beginning to emerge from Klark's soul the longer she knew that Emerson was here and at her mercy any time she wanted to start cutting at him.
Klark was hiding her rage well. But Ontari could see the changes. The subtle changes. How tightly wound Klark seemed to be. Her eyes hardening for no apparent reason other than she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts and would take on the unsettling look. Anyone who got near and noticed the look would back away. Even the braver warriors who trained nearby kept a safe distance from the enraged looking Wanheda.
If it had been any other situation, Ontari would have been amused. But this wasn't any other situation. Klark was considering really doing what Queen Nia wanted of her. To kill Emerson in hatred. To torture him slowly. To make it last for weeks. Months maybe even. Was that what Klark really was going to do? And the more Ontari looked at Klark, the more she had the horrific feeling that Klark was really going to do it this time.
They had separated at the healing center at Klark's wishes. Ontari hadn't wanted to leave her there, knowing that Klark had said that, but Klark, with a troublingly calm expression had asked Ontari again to leave and Ontari knew it best not to push the matter. She had wanted to stay. Had wanted to comfort the other and hadn't wanted to leave the other like that, but knew Klark wouldn't stand for it. Now, at dinnertime, there was no indication from any of the healing wounded and the Seconds that were going to the courts for food had been told by Klark about Emerson. It seemed that Klark was keeping that particular matter a secret. Whether it was to keep people calm or keep herself calm, Ontari had to admit she didn't know.
Klark would perhaps say that she had done it to keep everyone else calm. But Ontari suspected the latter and not the former. This pretense of calm was for her own sake. So Klark wouldn't fall apart at any given moment, knowing that one of her worst enemies was chained up in the dungeons for her.
Ontari and walked through the court as dinner was laid out over the tables. She was to go about her usual business. Ontari to her throne and eat the food before her and her mother, and she spotted Klark, who she realized had gone in earlier was to going to the table where the twenty-six and Klark's other Seconds sat. Ontari watched with dread, walking to her throne and sitting down, earning a sickeningly pleased smile from her mother, and looked out as Klark sat down with her companions, fear building in her chest over what Klark might be thinking right now. She could feel Kristofa and Kodee at her back, armed with an ax and a sword. Kodee's long sword was strapped to the left side of her waist and Kristofa's battleax was tied to his right hip.
Every blooming Azgeda warrior was expected to do their part in protecting the royalty of the Ice Nation. So all warriors guarded the queen and her heir at one time or another. For the next eight days, Kristofa and Kodee would be Ontari's own personal bodyguards. It wasn't something that any of the three of them hated. If anything it was a convenience. It meant that she, Kristofa and Kodee could conspire together without worries of Ontari's mother's servants listening in on them. And unfortunately, some of them had in the past been assigned to guard her mother from harm. That had not been service that any of them enjoyed. Frank, Dayvid, Jesee and Maaryo had been chosen for that on more than one occassion. Klark herself had tried to make sure that Dayvid knew he could not put his ax into Nia's head. Not unless he wanted to immediately be tortured to death by those loyal to Nia who they had yet to get rid of.
The quick-tempered Dayvid had listened glumly.
Jesee had been vigilant and Maaryo was surprisingly serious about his bodyguard duty.
Ontari knew that Kristofa and Kodee were to be trusted. All planned takeovers aside, if any bandit or thief attempted anything, Kristofa's ax would make short work of the offender and Kodee's sword would go through the attacker in seconds. Fynly had been her bodyguard once. Two months ago. A woman from a village that the queen had decimated with her warriors had tried to poison Ontari as a form of revenge for her dead children. The poison had been a way of hurting the queen in turn. Fynly had seen the woman's quick hands dump the poison in and Fynly had acted fast. She had smacked the platter with the goblets off of the servants hand, making the whole court gasp and Fynly had charged the woman who was fleeing, Fynly drawing her sword, calling out "Assassin! Assassin!" had lunged for the woman, armed. The terrified woman had been made short work of when Fynly had impaled her. The woman had been found with vials of poison on her person.
Fynly had been rewarded, made into a captain as a result. She had the facial mark of a captain, the mark of a high warrior now, as did Klark, Beril, Glen, Kamirun, Pakah Kristofa and Bayly. The queen barely questioned Fynly's loyalty after that. It seemed that the queen had all but forgotten about the "monster" insult thrown at her by Fynly when the young girl had been a captive nearly six and a half months ago, and had witnessed Klark's back being branded by tribal marks at Nia's orders. Now, in the eyes of the queen herself, Fynly was a hero. Which was very convenient. No one would ever think to suspect Fynly, unless they were even more suspicious than the queen herself. Unfortunately, that meant that they had to all act like the good little soldiers so as not to raise questions. Fynly and all the others had to protect the queen. Even if they would rather put a sword through her.
After that incident, Ontari had questioned if Fynly could be trusted with the eventual uprising they were planning. She had made the mistake of asking Klark. She had learned a valuable lesson then. If you wished to stay on Klark's good side, you did not question if her beloved Seconds, who she had sworn to protect, could be trusted or not. It was usually a good idea if you wanted to avoid being coldly ignored throughout most of the week. Ontari had learned never to-at least out loud voice doubts about whether or not Fynly or any of the other Seconds under Klark's tutelage could be trusted with the uprising.
Of course, Nia couldn't die now. At least not so soon.
Ontari knew that if the queen died, there were more than a few followers and advisors that would immediately jump onto the leaderless kingdom as soon as they could. Even with Ontari in the throne, they would take advantage. Which was why they had to get rid of Nia's followers first before anything else. Ontari's own advisor, Hasenjo had to die. She would take it upon herself to do that. He was her advisor. He was her responsibility. She would end him herself as soon as she had the chance and there was no one around to accuse her of murder for it.
Ontari slid her dark eyes back to the left, catching a glimpse of Kristofa and Kodee, both of them nodding to her in acknowledgement, Kristofa appearing slightly intimidating to any who were unused to his iron animal mask over his mouth and nose, and by Kodee's steel, grinning skull face covering her own beautiful, dark-skinned one, ebony hair tied back in a long ponytail.
Ontari saw Klark sitting at the food tables with the many Seconds. Frank was next to her with his entarg, Kozarr on his lap. Blare, Lyndin, Layne and Lorrenna were here, some of them back from the healing center. Across from them were Farrun, who practically jumped out of his seat to hug Klark around the waist. Klark's fierce anger melted for a moment to show the young boy warmth as she returned the embrace. Ontari smiled. Klark could never remain angry when the Azgeda children, especially Farrun were nearby.
Klark lifted the dark-haired Farrun up onto the bench, moving over away from the person right next to her, Caysi, the Bear Slayer so that Farrun could fit between the two of them. Caysi reached down and ruffled the boy's black hair. The boy grinned and grabbed at bread in front of him, not even bothering with any cutlery. Farrun ripped into the bread, taking a little too big of bites that Ontari smirked, seeing Klark say something to the boy and suspecting that it was something akin to "chew small, sweetie. You'll choke." Ontari tried not to chuckle. For a moment, it almost felt like things were normal for them. Ontari knew that normal had a rather different meaning for Klark and the other Sky People. But as normal as it could be for them. As normal as things could be, with Klark pretending to be the queen's personal murderer. And as normal as it could be with the queen continuously trying to get Klark to enjoy torture and murder, unsuccessfully and this one incident being a possible success, given who the newest prisoner was.
That loving grin on Klark's face, directed at Farrun almost looked like it could stay there, instead of likely about to melt off a second later when Klark had time to return to her tempestuous thoughts.
As Ontari predicted, Klark could only maintain that smile for so long once she was looking away from Farrun. Though her face was neutral, Ontari could almost feel the tight, unresolved anger and tension growing. Something horrible was starting to rise inside Klark and Ontari knew that it was only a matter of time before it came out. It was being held very carefully in place by a mask of calm right now.
Ontari held herself still, making sure not to show any emotion herself. She couldn't give anything away. She would need to talk with Klark later. But now was not the time. She was helpless to do anything now at the moment. As much as Ontari hated that, loathed that, she knew there was no other choice right now but to pretend that everything was as normal as it could be here.
Across the courtroom, at the table Wanheda and her seconds were sitting at, Clarke leaned forward, faking a smile at Dayvid who pushed over a plate of sliced and cooked turnips. David, Hodge and Paul were sitting next to each other as they usually did when it became suspected about who their biological father was. Simone, Sabine and Lorena were of course all by blood fully sisters, that was unavoidable because they had the exact same biological mother and father. But when Hodge's father as it turned out, hadn't been around much, even before Hodge's mother had gotten pregnant. And Paul never knew who his real father was. Plus David's mother had explicitly mentioned Paul's mother before and had told David to stay away from Paul and his mother there had been suspicions. Then there was the fact all three boys were close to the same age and as soon as Hodge's mother had been only a few months pregnant, one of her other partners had left, afraid of being floated. Which meant that he had broken the law and had a previous child on the Ark. And then there was the unnerving fact that if you looked at all three Paul, David and Hodge lined up, you'd find some very creepy facial similarities.
So as Parker put it, on the latest shock for all of them, adjusting to life here, there was a strong possibility that Paul, Hodge and David were all brothers and their father had broken a law on the Ark twice. Maybe more than that. Who exactly was looking after the implants in the Ark? It looked like even before the 100 had been sent down, before many of them were even born, there had been flaws in the implants. Who knew how many illegitimate, biological siblings Hodge, Paul and David had back on the Ark? It didn't matter much to them. They already considered each other brothers and the rest of the twenty-six, Clarke and the Azgeda trainees their family.
Frank was sitting across from them. His entarg, "boyfriend," Kozarr was on his lap, grabbing up a bunch of pieces of bread greedily. On her right side, Blair, Linden and Lane sat together.
Next to Frank with Kozarr on his lap, sat Glenn with his entarg, his girlfriend, Rora next to him, Mario who was sporting a new bruise on his lower jaw from training, Kristin who was gulping some ale down and shoving a cup at Mario and Mario smirked taking up the drinking challenge, and Simone who was nuzzling Parker's neck. Clarke looked over to the right at Martin wasn't even bothering with his food. Martin was offering his cup of ale to West, who took it quickly. Avery was sitting down, grabbing some pieces of meat, not bothering with any knives. She, Edmund and West had gotten back a few hours ago from a hunt. Avery and Edmund had been aiding her in the healing center. Clarke didn't see Edmund anywhere. She frowned, thoughts of Emerson straying from her mind for a few relieving moments.
"Where's Edmund?" She asked Avery and West. West shrugged. Avery answered between chewing, "He wanted to go help some of the other kids get food. Some of them are too weak to go get food themselves. Edmund went to the storages to get some food for them." Clarke nodded, smiling, feeling warmth and pride that Edmund was doing that.
Dallas, Beryl, Bobbi and Cameron were out training together and Jesse, Bailey and Sabine were cleaning their weapons. And Finley was in the shadows somewhere in this room, watching Mathias's every move. It was reassuring to know where everyone was.
Had Ontari not delivered the disturbing news she had, Clarke would have remained with that warm feeling for a while, as she had done in the past when one of the twenty-six did things like that. But learning that Emerson was here, in the dungeon, her mind had been thrown right back into Mount Weather. Surrounded by the dead, hundreds of accusations cast her way by the dead. Demanding justice.
Lexa and Anya's betrayal.
Emerson wanting her peoples' blood.
Cage ordering her mother's torture.
Her peoples' screams ringing in her ear along with that wretched drilling sound.
She just hadn't been able to think, about anything really the past hour. She was utterly grateful for Edmund. Helping those that needed help and couldn't get food for themselves. Edmund was such a good young man. It was surprising to see him still maintaining his kindness and empathy despite all he had seen. Still, the young man did everything he could to help others around him in Azgeda, even those that weren't his immediate group.
Clarke nodded, ordering quietly for the others to save some food for when Edmund got here. The others answered back their confirmation as they ate. That normally would have made Clarke chuckle at least. It didn't now. The knowledge of what she had been told was like a never-ending hitting needle to her brain. Emerson was here. Emerson was alive. Emerson was here. And Emerson was tied up, in the dungeons, ready to be tortured and killed. She wasn't sure she could think about anything else right now.
Her hands gripped the edge of the table in front of her. She avoided looking anywhere near the steps where Nia and Ontari sat on their thrones. Both of them knew about Emerson. The queen had had him brought here. Ontari had told her about him. She couldn't even imagine how worried Ontari must have been right now. Nia was most likely was gloating, reveling in her victory on her throne. She knew that Clarke had never really given her what she wanted when Clarke had forced herself to be calm and unfeeling every time that she had been put in a room with a bound prisoner, ordered to torture or brutally kill the prisoner in some way.
She had never given the queen what the queen had wanted. Not really. Clarke had always made sure to avoid it. She never felt anything when she cut the prisoners. At first it had been despair, every single time she killed them, usually making sure to kill them quickly, so they wouldn't experience torture, and when the queen had understood what she was doing, had threatened to put members of the twenty-six in the prisoners' places if Clarke didn't begin to torture the prisoners. When the next prisoner that had been chained to the wall, Nia had suggested that one of the twenty-six would take his place if Clarke didn't start torturing the chained man. And what was worse, Nia had suggested that Clarke would be the one to choose which of the twenty-six would be chained up and tortured.
Needless to say, Clarke's intentional tortures became more common after that, unfortunately. It hurt her every time to do. But after a while, she just became numb to it. It was once again, just another duty she had to fulfill to keep her people safe. It was yet another horrifying thing she had to do to protect her people that would haunt her nightmares and that was glorified by this society as an act of a hero.
Just more blood on her hands.
More nightmares. More flashbacks.
But now? With Emerson in Azgeda territory, being held here?
Things were going to be very, very different now. Emerson. The man that had tortured her nightmares just as much as Lexa and Anya had. As much as the dead inside the mountain had. He had appeared in her nightmares, countless times over. Taunting her over her friends dying. Taunting her, telling her that she had murdered his family and that he would murder hers in turn. Telling her she was a monster and that she deserved death. That everyone she loved deserved death.
Clarke's teeth ground together. She had learned the names of Emerson's family members when she had been in the mountain. She knew who he had loved, the people she had killed along with the rest of the Mountain Men. She had killed his two daughters and his wife. His little brother too. Now she'd kill him so that he could never hurt or threaten anyone she loved ever again.
Emerson's family hadn't deserved the way they died. But Emerson himself certainly did, and did deserve being tortured.
The rage that had built up the moment Ontari had told her that Emerson was here and alive could barely be fully bottled up inside her. She could feel every fiber of her being ready to explode. A part of her wanted to bolt straight to the dungeons without either Nia or Ontari accompanying her and gut Emerson right there. But a part of her feared what would come next. She had his leering face burned in her memory. The grinning face of the man so pleased that the Commander had taken his deal haunted her. To see it again, even if he was at her mercy this time? She wasn't sure she'd survive that.
She didn't think it was actually physically possible to have a heart attack just by seeing someone that had hurt her, but she suspected that it might be in this certain case. There was no reason why she should believe otherwise under these circumstances. She hated that man. Hated him even more than she hated the Ice Queen. She was certain that if the roles were reversed and the Ice Queen had been the one to be at the mountain's door, trying to break in to wipe out the mountain men, that Nia would not have turned away, would not have taken the deal. If only for her own pride, and to prove how powerful her people were, Nia would have gone in anyway, killing as many of the Mountain Men as her people could get their hands on, and she would have killed Emerson probably as soon as the wretched man had offered that deal as a sign of outrage for such a suggestion.
Whether it was moral or not was besides the point. The point was, had Nia been leading the charge on Mount Weather, things would have happened very differently.
Clarke knew it was foolish thinking to believe that Nia could have been better than Lexa. That was a naïve thought that had no place here after everything she had seen the older woman do. Nia would have wiped everyone out. Probably Clarke and her own people as well. So yes, things would have gone differently. But to Nia's credit, Clarke knew the Ice Queen wouldn't have retreated like a coward and neither would have Ontari.
Finally, Clarke found her eyes rising up to where Nia sat. It seemed strange, but for all the plotting that she, Ontari and the twenty-six had conducted behind Nia and her followers' backs, this was probably one of the sweetest gifts Clarke had ever received. It was not out of any kindness of Nia's heart, Clarke knew this well. But it didn't change that a thrill went through her knowing that here Emerson was, if the queen really had succeeded in catching him and he was at her mercy, and she could remove his skin, take his organs, slice his bones any time she wished. That last part seemed particularly poetic. To cut into his bones. Carve into them as his people had done to her own people. Stolen their bone marrow to go above ground. Taken from them against their will.
Their bodies violated, their will taken.
This time, Emerson would pay dearly for what he had done to her people. She slipped her eyes to the right and turned her head to survey Kristin, Glenn, Simone, Parker, Mario, Martin, West, Avery, Paul, Hodge, David, Lorena, Blair, Linden, Lane, Frank, Casey and Farron. She looked then to where Aron and Micah sat with their families, then up the steps of the queen's pedestal at where the tense and emotionless appearing Ontari sat with Christopher and Cody at her back, protecting her. Clarke glared down at the table's plates. She would not let Carl Emerson threaten anyone she loved again. Not the people she loved here, not her people in the Trikru territory, not anywhere.
She remembered when Atano, the torturer had been felled near one of his beloved taverns. It had supposedly been an assassination. By who, no one knew. But Clarke had known. Even when people had just started questioning who it possibly could have been, Clarke had had her suspicions. Especially since she did not recall seeing either Finley or West at their usual training sessions. Thankfully, only she, Mario and Glenn knew that the four of them had planned that training session. And well, none of them were going to tell anyone that.
When Atano's death had been reported, occurring almost two months ago, Clarke's eyes, almost against their will, had traveled to where her twenty-six Seconds occupied the courtroom. All of them had looked startled by the news…save for Finley, West, Paul, Mario and Kristin. Clarke had understood almost immediately what had happened. They had killed Atano. Or some of them had the other members of those five had known and had kept the secret.
It was as plain as day, the smirks that had crossed Finley, Kristin and Mario's faces, the nod of Paul's head even if it was against his better instincts to do so, and West's nearly pleased look that had appeared for a moment before disappearing and being replaced with what Clarke had known even then to be a forced look of shock.
It wasn't like it had been the first time that their group had literally murdered people who were only loyal to the queen. There had been a number of calculated murders committed in the name of their cause, made to look like accidents or bar brawls that got out of hand, or just training that went too far. Many of Clarke's Seconds had done things like that. It still made her heart shudder, knowing what they had to do for their eventual freedom. But they had never committed a murder for the reasons that Clarke, even then had suspected they had committed the murder of Atano over.
As far as Clarke knew, her Seconds had never committed murder over something like a grudge. For revenge.
As it turned out, it hadn't been revenge for them, but for her. For the whippings that she had to endure two months prior to Atano's death. When she had lied to the queen for Cameron. She had partially suspected it, but it had still come as a surprise to her when Finley and West admitted to doing it for her.
Yes, as she later found out when she had privately questioned each of the five who had looked suspicious, as it turned out, Finley and West had in fact killed Atano (Finley made it clear that it had been for the whippings that Atano had given Clarke four months ago), and Mario and Kristin had been the lookouts, and Paul had been the one to make up the story that both Finley and West had been at their training session where they were supposed to be. When Clarke had confronted Glenn, Glenn had immediately agreed to backing up Paul's claims that West and Finley had been with him. It wasn't that hard for people to believe it, as Finley's lover, Jarra had been mentioning here and there that West and her lover were at training during the time that Atano's murder had taken place and so any suspicion that might have gone Finley and West's way would be quickly silenced.
It still surprised Clarke how quickly Jarra had turned to their side, even with the knowledge of what Nia had done to Jarra's brother and uncle simply for failure. Finley, in a drunk, disgusted stupor had lamented in private how Jarra was still haunted by her uncle's screams from the dungeons, years after his brutal death, and by the smell of her brother's burnt body.
So if her Seconds, her people, her family could do it, she could do it. She was going to do it. Her rage bubbling up, ruling her. She would slaughter him. She would rip him from piece, from piece, from piece. There was a strange, murderous satisfaction in knowing that she would do this. She grabbed her knife, clutching it harder than she should have as she leaned closer to the plate in front of her, staring at the meat, imagining it being Emerson's newly bloodied flesh. She would not allow Emerson to hurt any of her family ever again. She would do anything to prevent it. Even the most horrifying decimation of his body and a torturous death if that was what it took.
(Page break)
North Atlantic Ocean
The Great Stallion
Night had nearly encased the sky, glittering stars beginning to dot the black-blue blanket that had rolled over the ship and ocean. Kint had brought out sacks and sacks of food. He had made it clear that they'd need to keep themselves strong for the journey. But they had a limited supply of food. It hadn't taken any of the occupants new to the ship long before they heard animal noises down below and they were not the sounds of horses neighing. It sounded like sheep, goats and pigs.
As it turned out for food, since meat would go bad after a few days. So live animals were a good idea to have around. To be slaughtered for food later in the month. And there was still the food that was needed for the journey back. Salted fish had been provided for, the fish brought aboard only an hour ago and the butchering and salting being applied now. The rations provided at the moment were bread, fruits and vegetables. The vegetables were steamed and eventually everyone, save for Kint and the pilot of the ship and the navigator were below, eating at the tables.
Bowls of soup, vegetables and plates of salted fish were the crew's dinner. The chatter that rose between the 100 and the guards and the many tribe warriors. The Commander herself and Anya were sitting together, across from each other, eating and speaking quietly. Wells brought a bowl of food to Raven at their table, she took it, smiling up at him and nodding. "Thanks." She mumbled.
Wells sat across from her, smiling. "I thought you were going to be sick when we first got onboard. You seem okay now."
Raven snorted, "Now you care about any of us being okay? You've been totally AWOL when you're not practically dragged from your bunk." Wells shook his head, frowning. "I always cared. I just didn't want to deal with other peoples' shit." Raven tried not to roll her eyes. "By 'other people,' you mean, Bellamy, right?" Wells looked startled at her and she smirked. "Not as subtle as you think you are, are you, Jaha?" Wells sighed, giving a small smile. "I guess not. And yeah, I do mean him." Because a council member wasn't that much good to anyone if they didn't care about other peoples' problems. That had been why Wells's father had been seen as such a pariah. It wasn't people in general that Wells wanted to avoid. Just one. One that he had the misfortune of sharing a council with.
"I can't help it." Wells offered, his voice apologetic. "He let Clarke go. How hard was he trying to keep her with us?" Raven looked at Wells incredulously. "Was he supposed to hold her captive? Were we supposed to keep Clarke in a cage or something, Wells? Like the Mountain Men would have done?" Wells glared. "Of course not! But he just let her go! He didn't tell us so we could go after her. Did he really think she would be safe out there? A world full of Grounders? People that abandoned us? Why didn't he tell us that she left?"
Raven sighed, glaring down into her soup, cursing her own helplessness, cursing Wells for being right, cursing Bellamy for not telling them until it was too late that Clarke had left all of them. Cursing Clarke for leaving. Cursing herself for not noticing till Clarke was long gone. It had taken until nightfall when they finally had started noticing that someone in their traumatized and wounded party was missing. That had been when the panic had started and when they had finally gotten an answer from Bellamy, that he had just let their other leader and one of the people that had saved their lives in the Mountain just walk away with only a handgun as protection, they had started a mass search. A mass search that had gotten nowhere fast.
Raven to be honest, wasn't sure who she was angrier at. Clarke for leaving them. Wells for being right now. Bellamy for letting Clarke walk away. Or herself for not realizing too late that her friend was gone. Why had it taken her so long to notice that Clarke was missing? She had been in so much pain the past few months since the mountain. It was ebbed away now, but for almost three months she had been experiencing agony, till the fourth month and the pain began to ease. These last three months, aside from the occasional ache in her hip, it had practically been normal for her to walk around. She owed Abby big time.
The good doctor, for all her annoying comments, had made sure that Raven was all patched up and fully recovering. The only thing that was left was making sure they survived the next day, and the pain of Clarke not being with them anymore. The question that plagued Raven and the others everyday. Where was Clarke? Was she safe? Didn't she think about them at all? Why hadn't she thought of them when she left?
But now they knew. Clarke had been gone for a month, and then had been kidnapped. The last six months probably weren't even her fault. She was being held captive by those Ice freaks. Raven uselessly toyed with her soup with the wooden spoon deep in the basin. She was going to kill Clarke when she saw her. Not literally, obviously. But god, she was going to lose her voice yelling at Clarke. Raven had been driving herself crazy wondering where the other young woman was. Wondering what she could have done differently to keep Clarke from running off. But they'd find her, rescue her, yell the hell at her, and then hug her till there was no tomorrow.
"Your hip," Wells's voice caught Raven's attention quickly, "Is it feeling okay?" Raven nodded. "It's fine, Wells. It's been fine for a while. I don't need people to keep asking me that. Seriously, Jaha." Wells nodded, smiling. "Just making sure." A stray black was dangling along Raven's forehead, getting into her eye. He pushed aside the need to reach out and push the stray hair back from Raven's face. He knew she wouldn't appreciate that. Much as he wanted to do it.
Wells forced his eyes away from her and glanced over at the table to his left where Sterling, Jones, Monroe and Rudy sat. Then to the other table where four of the oldest of the 100 that were still alive, Susan, Hank, Brett and Pauline sat. He turned to the right where Fox sat next to him. Across from Fox sat Harper, next to Raven. The next tables over sat more of the 100 that had come with them from Arkadia. Luke, Grace, Molly, Max, Bree, Peyton, Kevin, Evan and so on. A lot of them had more visible scars than Wells himself. Wells only had a few cut marks from the fight at the dropship that he had acquired with the Grounders before he had practically thrown Clarke into the ship to set the ring of fire off.
There was a large, long scar that adorned his back from the long blade of one Grounder he had slammed his fist so hard into the throat of that he thought he was going to break his fist. But the cut, thankfully hadn't been that deep. And it had been patched up quickly, by Charlotte, Finn and Octavia when he met up with them after the battle. When Clarke, Anya and the 100 had been captured by the plastic-suited people. But it had been patched up.
The others had way more obvious scars than he did. Burns from the ring of fire when they had managed to get out of the way just barely in time. They had gotten out of range, but still the flames had licked at them, scarring some of their legs and faces.
Grace and Luke were the most badly burned. Max, Molly and Kevin had slash marks along their chests, going up to the bottom of their throats, just peaking out from the collars of their shirts. Gifts from Anya's deceased Grounder army. Wells was going to guess that was why some of them were looked at by Anya with begrudging respect. Wells had found Anya looking at him and Raven the same way. Respect.
It was disgraceful that these people only respected strength. Just because someone was strong, it didn't make them worthy to be a leader. But Wells didn't want to debate leadership with the Grounders. He just wanted to get his sister back. Besides Raven and a few others, Clarke was the only reason why he had stayed in camp at all instead of running off himself, not wanting to be reminded of what happened in the Mountain. He stayed because he knew Clarke would have wanted him to. Whatever her reason, Wells knew that Clarke had a good one for leaving. Even if he had been resentful for months for her leaving. But he came to understand two months ago.
Clarke had needed to leave.
Captured by the Ice Nation or not, leaving had been what Clarke had needed at the time.
Wells wasn't going to judge her for that. He just wanted her safe. He looked back to Raven, who had started to eat. Wells withheld any words that might spring forth. He hadn't wanted to say anything back at camp, since he knew that Raven would not stand for it. But a part of him had been worried about Raven coming with them. He knew damn well that Raven hated it when people were overbearing to her. But Wells had been worried. From the things he had heard about the Azgeda and from Raven's injuries months ago, it just made him feel like he was going to have a stress attack or something, thinking about it.
The few times at Arkadia when Wells had bothered being out of his bunk, that didn't involve the decisions he had to be a part of on the council, had involved making sure that Raven was eating and was comfortable. It was one of the few times that Wells ever socialized at all or was ever out of his bunk. He understood why it brought concern from everyone, to Abby, Octavia, Lincoln, Kane, to Raven herself. But it had never succeeded in getting him out of his bunk for longer than he needed to be. This was a rare occasion. It was nice to smell the sea air. But he was only here because he had to be. For Clarke's sake.
"If it was any of our other people that was caught by the Ice Nation," Wells began carefully, looking at Raven with curiosity, "Would you have gone?" He wasn't sure why he had asked. Maybe to make himself feel better for knowing deep in his bones, whether he liked it or not, that if it were anyone else in Clarke's situation right now, Kane, Octavia, Finn who had broken both Clarke and Raven's hearts, but especially Bellamy, Wells would not even lift a finger to help them. Unless of course, it was Raven. If Raven had been caught by the Azgeda, Wells would have been out of the camp, heading to the docks just as quickly as he had when he had learned of Clarke's capture. Raven lifted her head, eyes narrowing. "Depends on the person." Raven admitted, much to Wells's surprise. He had been sure she would have said yes, but this was a surprise for him.
Raven added, seeming to absorb Wells's startled look, snickering, "No offense, but if I heard your dad was in the Ice Nation, I'd say 'good riddance.'" Wells couldn't help a small laugh. He heard chuckling next across from him and Fox, coming from Harper, who nodded back. Fox agreed quietly, "Yeah, no offense, Wells."
Wells waved a hand back. "None taken." He didn't care. He knew what his father was. And knew how inhuman the man's decisions had been. He had been a tyrant at best. There was no help for that. "But," Raven added, looking at Wells, "If it was you that was taken by the Ice Nation, then yeah, I'd go." Wells blinked, startled, mouth dropping at this admission. Harper nodded next to Raven. "Yeah, so would I." Fox said, looking at Wells with affection in her eyes. Wells stared at his three companions and nodded, feeling warm inside. It was silly and childish, he knew, but hearing these affirmation of him being one of them always made him feel safe. Made him feel like he belonged.
His whole life on the Ark, he had been avoided by other kids because of who his father had been, but here, where he had the chance to prove he cared about his people and that he'd stand by their side in battle, the rest of the 100 saw him as family too. He smiled at the others.
It was good to know. That despite the fact that he hated most of the people on the council, barring Raven, Lincoln, Gina and Abby, he still belonged with these people.
Even Charlotte who had actually tried to kill him once, had come to see him as part of the group. It was why he had had to tell her over and over again back at camp that Charlotte was not coming with them to the Ice Nation when the Commander had come for them. Charlotte had gotten better as a fighter thanks to Lincoln's lessons, but she was still a kid. The youngest of the 100. He had practically ordered some of the other kids back at camp, Owen and Peony to make sure that Charlotte didn't follow them out of camp and make sure that the youngest of their number stayed where she was. Charlotte had grown attached to him since he had protected her from Murphy, and had defended Charlotte when Clarke had become furious that the girl had tried to kill her friend.
To be fair, what had happened with Murphy was mostly on Wells, and he knew that. When Charlotte had injured Wells, only stabbing his right arm, because Wells got out of the way in time of Charlotte's knife, seeing the blade just in time, Wells knew he had to come up with something. So when asked about his injury by Clarke, Finn and Octavia, Wells knew that he needed to give an answer fast and he wouldn't endanger Charlotte. She was just a child. So he had blamed Murphy. The obvious choice. Someone who had threatened to kill him more than once. Since the moment they had reached Earth.
And then hell had broken loose. Wells had been too horrified by what he had unleashed by blaming Murphy and had been unable to do or say anything when the mob had gathered to hang Murphy for a murder attempt he wasn't even guilty for, Bellamy being the thug he was had decided that Murphy's life meant nothing when compared to "giving the people what they wanted" so that they remained loyal to him, and then Charlotte had confessed, just wanting it to stop.
Then a chaotic run around the forest, being chased by Murphy, Myles and Connor that had lasted up to four hours at least had taken place. Murphy wanting Wells dead was nothing new, and Wells knew even then that it was well deserved because of what had almost happened to him. But Murphy had wanted Charlotte too. So Wells had grabbed Charlotte and run. When Murphy and his goons had caught up with them, Charlotte had tried to throw herself off a cliff to protect him and Clarke from Murphy. But Wells had grabbed her just in time, pulling her back, ignoring the pain in his right arm as he did it. The next minutes had been loud, hectic and had gone by so fast that Wells still had a hard time of understanding what happened. An enraged Finn had attacked Murphy and had beaten the boy nearly to death for threatening Clarke, till Clarke had said that they should exile Murphy out of desperation to save the thug's life. Wells wasn't sure he'd have agreed with that decision, even though he knew it was his fault that Murphy had almost died. But he had just wanted to get that night over with.
So both he and Finn had threatened to kill Murphy if they ever saw him again. And Wells had made sure to tell Connor and Myles that if they had any problems with this, he was going to have Bellamy exile Murphy too for trying to kill a little girl. So they had left a bedraggled Murphy in the woods, an injured Wells carrying a shocked Charlotte off back to camp.
When that idiot who tried to act like he owned the camp, Bellamy finally found them, he had been wandering around the woods, not sure where they were and Wells had told him, coldly and without giving any other option that Murphy had been exiled and would remain that way. Wells had then, and Wells had been sure even then that he had done it out of spite, had sneered at Bellamy, wondering if Bellamy would like everyone in camp to know that Bellamy would be letting Murphy back onto camp after nearly murdering a nine-year-old girl. That had naturally destroyed any arguments that Bellamy might have had about the matter. He had agreed to exile.
It had been then agreed that discourse and lawlessness in the camp couldn't be allowed for much longer. There had to be rules put in place unless they wanted murder to become normalized and go unpunished in their group. A fuming Bellamy had been enraged that Jaha's son of all people had suggested it, but in the end had agreed. So he, Wells, Finn, Clarke and Octavia had formed their own council for a time.
And Charlotte had never left Wells's side since then.
This would the first time since Wells had been captured by Mount Weather that Charlotte and him would be separated. She had pleaded and pleaded to let her come with him to the Ice Nation, but he didn't want Charlotte going anywhere near that place. He hadn't wanted to leave the girl in the camp with Bellamy, but Charlotte going near the Ice Nation was not an option. It was bad enough when they had been held captive by people that had tried to take their bone marrow, but to go to a place where they pulled out your bones for something as small as stealing, or would skin you alive for trying to escape the queen's hands, Wells couldn't risk Charlotte's life. Not there.
So he had left a tearful Charlotte in the care of the rest of the 100 and the rest of the Ark people. He just hoped she'd forgive him for doing it.
A thought came to Wells and he tried to ignore the sting that came with the thought. "And Wick?" He pushed, looking at Raven as her eyes burned, looking back at him. "Kyle Wick? If he was the one that was taken?" Wells knew he shouldn't have asked that, but he couldn't help himself. He needed to know for sure that Wick and Raven were over. Wick always gave Wells a bad feeling. Always. He reminded him too much of Bellamy. There was just something wrong with Wick. Hell, Wells trusted Finn way, way more with Raven than he ever trusted Raven being alone with Wick. Raven scowled and shook her head. "I don't know. I wouldn't want him to be taken, but I don't think I'd go across the sea for him. Not like if it was you, Finn, O or one of the others taken."
Wells fought a smirk, nodding. That piece of information shouldn't have satisfied him as much as it did. But he found himself rather pleased knowing that.
Raven said something next that made Wells's stomach twist in freezing knots, "Do we think that Clarke is still alive?" As soon as she said it, Wells, Harper and Fox froze up, eyes wide. Scowling down at her food, Raven shook her head. "Never mind. Forget I said anything." Wells's teeth ground together. That wasn't an option he could let himself think for long. Clarke being dead? Or almost dead when they got there? No way. He wouldn't believe it. If the Azgeda had killed Clarke, he'd start shooting. He didn't give a damn about peace if Clarke was hurt.
(Page break)
Azgeda territory: Norway
Clarke hadn't even realized when night had fallen. The sky was black when she, Paul, Lorena and Finley exited the training hall, Finley being relieved of her duty watching Mathias and Martin taking her place, she had actually been genuinely surprised to see that it was night time, despite the many dockings of the candles, the candles just melting and melting. But there it was. Clarke's mind had been in a daze of disturbing memories and Emerson. Then again, disturbing memories and Emerson, that was redundant, wasn't it? She had said a hesitant goodnight to her friends and had gone off to Ontari's chambers.
While she didn't always go to Ontari's chambers, not even after their relationship had really started, it hadn't even needed to be said after Ontari had told Clarke about Emerson. They both knew that Clarke needed to be with Ontari tonight after such news.
Clarke went up the stairs of her chamber. Farron had said his goodnights, even though Clarke knew that the boy wanted to sleep next to her. He had gone off to Glenn's room to snuggle with the older boy. Clarke and all the others refused to let Farron go back to his father's home. Farron's father was the human embodiment of abuse. They made sure that Farron stayed away from Tenmar. Whenever Tenmar got close, any member of the twenty-six that was nearby made sure to never leave the man and Farron alone together. Bailey had once even hinted to Tenmar's face that she would remove the man's hands if he ever laid them upon his son again. And Mario, who had been with Bailey and Farron at the time had threatened to cut off something…a bit lower.
That had been three months ago, and Clarke had never been prouder of Bailey and Mario for such an action.
Farron had come to see everyone in the twenty-six as his family as much as he came to see Clarke as his family. Farron saw the other orphans, Linden, Lane, Kadin, Zane, and Faye as his family too. He saw Aron and Micah as family too.
The only misfortune when it came to Aron was that they all knew that Aron wasn't to be trusted. Aron respected Clarke and Ontari and all of the twenty-six, (as much as she could respect the twenty-six). But at the end of the day, Aron was loyal to the queen and only loyal to the queen. As was Micah. Because both Aron and Micah had their own families that were well taken care of by the queen, the two girls had learned most of their loyalty from their families and so would only care about the queen's rule. It made Clarke sad. She loved Aron and Micah. She respected their parents. But Clarke knew that should Micah or Aron ever hear even a word of the plans that Clarke, Ontari, the twenty-six and their allies were hatching, both children would run to the queen in a heartbeat.
It was sad, but that was why Clarke and the others had had Farron swear not to breathe a word of their plans to either Aron or Micah. Farron hadn't liked it, but he had sworn and he had meant it.
Clarke moved up the steps, grateful that Farron had accepted that she couldn't be with him right now. She loved him. Wanted to hold him at night, knowing he felt safer with her. He had even started to sleep between her and Ontari at times, after Farron began to realize that Ontari would not punish him for being in the bed with them. The queen excused it. As long as she thought that Farron and Clarke were loyal to her, then she didn't care. She didn't realize the danger that was starting to grow right beneath her nose. But Clarke didn't want Farron with them tonight. She didn't want him to see her the way she was right now. It wasn't good for him to see her like this. If she could help it, Farron would never know about Emerson or that the last Mountain Man was even here.
Clarke reached Ontari's room, knocking against it with her right fist.
The answer was almost immediate. She heard the latch being pulled up and the door opened up.
Ontari awaited Clarke on the other side of the door, looking back at the other young woman with an unsurprised, and saddened look on her face. She moved aside, letting Clarke into the room and closing the door behind them, sighing as a hesitant Klark turned to her.
There was a lit up fireplace at their back, filling the room with heat. The ravines carved around the room were filled with burning coals. And burning coals were stuffed into the basins of stone bowls upon pedestals in the vast room, providing all the warmth both women would need.
"How angry at me are you right now?" Clarke asked, not meeting Ontari's dark eyes. She had been furious, bloodthirsty even when she had decided she would kill and torture for the first time, unleashing all her anger and rage on Emerson eventually. She was still planning it. But she knew how she must have sounded to Ontari. Especially since Ontari had told her in order to help her mentally defend herself against when she'd have to eventually face Emerson in the dungeon, and the inevitable onslaught of terrible memories that would assail her as a result.
Ontari had told her about Emerson to warn her, and Clarke had given in completely to the thought of releasing all her demons on Emerson as soon as he was offered to her on a silver platter. All those months of resisting the queen in the shadows had seemed to be for naught after what Clarke had said, after what she had decided, promised to herself even, what she was going to do to the last Mountain Man, first chance she got. Clarke had been half tempted to bring Ontari those pink flowers that Ontari had brought her as a way of trying to get her to forgive the Azgeda woman. When Ontari had asked if Finley could be trusted with the eventual revolt, Clarke had been furious and had ignored Ontari. As a way of trying to get Clarke to forgive her, Ontari must have asked one of the twenty-six what she could do. Next, Ontari had shown up with a few pink flowers and an apologetic look on her face. It had been a genuine surprise for Clarke, since she hadn't expected the heir to the Ice Queen of all people to be groveling, secondly, she knew that flowers were hard to come by in this climate and thirdly, because Grounders didn't understand the significance of flowers for the Ark people. Which was why Clarke had known that Ontari had to have gone to one of the twenty-six for council.
It had struck Clarke as all three bizarre, hilarious and charming.
It was why she felt like she should be offering a few flowers by now. Or at least an apology.
Ontari shook her head, stepping closer. "Not at all. I'm not angry at you at all. I understand." Ontari stepped close and slipped her arms around the other, placing her head against Klark's shoulder, leaning in and gently kissing the other's throat.
I'm just sad for you.
It wasn't said, but both Ontari and Klark heard it, and knew that that was what Ontari didn't say. Clarke sighed, burying her face in Ontari's neck, hugging the Azgeda woman close, aware of the heat that was stirring in her stomach and between her legs. "I'm sorry." She whispered, hands clenching into Ontari's shoulders, "For hurting you. I'm sorry." She felt Ontari nod against her. "It's alright. And it's not me I'm worried about." Ontari pulled away, looking at Klark, looking into the other's blue eyes sadly. She slipped her right hand over the left side of Klark's face, fingers curling, knuckles brushing tenderly against Klark's cheek, the bumps of Klark's scar touching her fingers.
"I know." Clarke said, regret in her voice, hating what she was doing to Ontari right now. "But this has to be done. He can't hurt my people again." Ontari shook her head, "Our people. Then let me do it, Klark." Ontari gave Klark a look of determined steel, her eyes demanding that Klark give her this task, "I'll end him in a second. He won't be any concern to you ever again."
"And risk the queen's wrath?" Klark asked, pulling back only a bit to look at Ontari skeptically, "She wants a show, Ontari. She wants to see me torture him. And if he dies fast, she'll know something's wrong. And remember, she's threatened the twenty-six in the past when I didn't torture when she said to do it." Ontari showed not emotion on her face when she spoke next, "Is that really the reason why you're going to do this? Or do you really want to torture the man that hurt the Sky People so much?"
Klark seemed unsettled at the question and Ontari knew that she had pressed the issue that Klark hadn't wanted to talk about. The fact that Klark actually wanted to kill and torture this time. Klark averted her eyes again from Ontari, but the Azgeda woman gently pushed Klark's face to her, forcing the blonde's eyes back to the other woman. "Klark, I understand," Ontari emphasized. "I do. When we eventually," Ontari's voice lowered carefully, "When we take control, I know that we'll have to kill the queen. If only to make sure there isn't competition for the throne. But I know that a part of me...even if I do love her," Ontari voiced her words carefully sucking in a breath as Klark absorbed this information, "A part of me wishes, has always wished for her death. For taking me from my family. For making me into a monster. For using me to slaughter millions."
Klark nodded, wincing. This wasn't the first time Ontari had confessed to such feelings, even though Ontari of her own admission, was grateful for the extended life she had, which she would not have had, had the people of Polis discovered Ontari. She knew that Ontari had a complicated relationship at best with her adoptive mother, queen Nia.
She loved her. But at the same time knew with unyielding knowledge that Nia's death could not be quick and did not deserve to be quick.
And Clarke suspected that Ontari didn't want Nia's death to be quick. Not after everything the queen had done to all of them.
"I do understand," Ontari repeated. "I understand because I know what some bloodthirsty part of me wants for my mother. I know. But think about what you're about to do, Klark. You'll be giving into what Nia wants. You'll be letting the worst part of yourself out. You'll actually be enjoying torturing a living person. Even if he deserves more than anyone else in the world."
Clarke shook her head. "What are you saying, Ontari? Do you think after I torture Emerson I'll just switch over to Nia's side? That's not going to happen." "That isn't-" Ontari sighed, voice dropping as she closed her eyes, trying to find a better way of explaining what she meant to her entarg, "That isn't what I mean, Klark." Ontari's eyes opened as she locked them with the other young woman's. "I know you'll never side with her. But if you do this? Do it and enjoy it, relish in the pain you cause another living being…it's going to change you. I don't want to lose you."
Clarke scoffed, thinking over what Ontari was saying. Hadn't she already changed enough after Mount Weather and all the villages she had sacked over only a few months? Clarke was certain that changing any more than she already had wasn't really possible. She was already a heartless monster. She had been the moment she had pulled that lever and slaughtered hundreds of children in the Mountain. "You won't lose me." Clarke answered, and added with more sadness than she could help, arms lowering to Ontari's arms and squeezing them gently. "You can't lose someone who's already lost all their innocence."
Ontari shook her head, leaning forward, scarred forehead up against Klark's, "You haven't lost all your innocence. And that isn't what I meant. You know that. You're still noble. You still love unconditionally. You still love with all your heart." Ontari brought her other hand to the other side of Clarke's marked face, her hands sliding up to the back of Clarke's head, pressing them closer together, locking their lips close.
Ontari clasped her arms to Clarke's elbows, guiding them towards the bed. They dropped down onto it, Ontari straddling Klark's leg, the blonde's leg grinding against Ontari's vagina, Ontari's hand sliding down to cup Klark's own cunt roughly, still kissing the other, fingers clenching around where she felt Klark's heated core through the fur, feeling around enough.
(Page break)
Arkadia
That night had not been fun. Peony and Andrew had been running around the camp all night.
Owen circled the camp and finally stopped yelling the name of the youngest of the 100 when he saw his friends up ahead. "Peony! Andrew! Did you find her?!" Andrew, a lanky, brown-haired teenager that only a week ago had passed his eighteenth birthday and had been sent to the ground in the 100's dropship for stealing rations, walked forward, keeping his lit torch high. He shook his head. "No." He answered, voice weak, "Kane and Bellamy are looking all over the other side of camp. Gina's checking Charlotte's quarters." Andrew hesitated and added, "There's something else."
At Owen's inquiring look, Andrew answered, "Finn? He's missing too. They both are."
Owen, the third oldest of the remaining 100 blanched, eyes wide. Why would Finn also be…
Wait.
"Son of a bitch." Owen growled, glaring over the camp. "Finn and Charlotte followed the others to the docks."
"What?" Miller's astounded voice came from one of the fires that had been set up for food and he came forward, staring at Owen, "Are you fucking serious?! You're telling me Finn and a ten-year-old girl are going after a bunch of savages to the docks to go to that Ice Nation place with even worse savages?!"
"Nathan," Miller's father chastised quietly, though he too was aghast by what he was hearing. But Owen's conclusion was hard to dispute. They had looked all over the place. The bunks. Where Monty tended to drink himself to sleep, startling the sleeping boy awake and making the drunkard part of the search, to every inch of the camp, to the area around the camp. And Finn had taken Charlotte from Owen and Peony, claiming that he'd make sure that she would stay put.
Meaning he was the last person that saw her.
And now they both were gone.
"No way," Peony argued, "Even Finn wouldn't be that stupid."
Peony's words sounded foolish, even to her. Because everyone in the area knew the truth. Yes, Finn would be that stupid. And Charlotte must have gotten him to take her with him.
"Man," Andrew groaned, "Bell's gonna kill us when he gets back from the forest."
"Um," Peony said, eyes narrowed and worry in her voice with her next words, "Doesn't this mean we only have like three people on the council now? With Finn gone too?"
Owen looked like he was about to flip as he growled, "Just great. Man, we're fucked." He had been saying that a lot since he and the other 100 landed in that dropship around here, hadn't he?
(Page break)
North Atlantic Ocean
The Great Stallion
Sleep was not going to come easily, Raven could tell this already as she saw the swaying pieces of thick cloth that were the hammocks that people were going to sleep in for the night. She suspected that the captain and of course the great Commander, Raven had to roll her eyes whenever she thought of that woman, and that they were actually going along with what the woman said, were going to be sleeping in stable beds. But the rest of them got swaying hammocks. Great.
Raven had put her bag of bombs away with the rest of the weapons in the cabin. Raven just needed to get over to the hammock and maneuver herself over into one. Not so hard, right? She had slept in hammocks before in Arkadia. Just…not ones that were swinging back and forth on waves.
A curious Sterling had been looking around the cabin, till he got to one hammock and jumped in immediately, kicking his shoes off onto the deck. "Yeah," Raven snorted, pushing her cane against the deck and holding her hand out in case she needed to steady herself against the wall as the ship rocked, "take your shoes off. It's not like the rest of us have to smell your feet." "Oh please," Sterling laughed, propping himself up a little on his right elbow against the hammock's edge, left hand gripping the red apple he had taken with him from dinner, "This ship already smells like thousands of animals have shit in it. Who cares?"
He took a couple of bites out of the apple, still grinning.
"Clearly you don't." Wells said dryly, making it over to one of the hammocks. He glanced to his right at Anya who was nodding goodbye to her Commander who walked off and Anya, with startling grace, got up into the hammock in seconds. She had a knife close to her, her eyes closing but her body never fully losing its tenseness. Wells tried not to snort at how comical that was. It wouldn't be so comical if Anya was coming after him, but still he wondered if how Clarke had ever gotten Anya to be calm. Because he knew that she could. He had seen them around each other. Anya had been surprisingly calm with Clarke. Wells wasn't a mind reader, but he had almost been sure he had seen Anya look at Clarke with tenderness more than a few times instead of her cool, neutral expression. Then again, as he learned from Lincoln, Anya had actually come back to the Mountain like Lincoln had, unlike the Commander. Wells wanted to think that Anya could make choices independent of the Commander's orders, but he didn't want to push how much faith he had in the woman.
He then looked to Raven, trying to keep his head low so she didn't notice that he was watching her again. He knew she wouldn't appreciate it, but he watched anyway, making sure Raven got to one of the hammocks. Once she grabbed onto the nearest one and clung on, she pushed herself on her good leg and against her cane, hoisting her bad leg up, slipping it into the hammock first, then trying to pull herself up into it, unsuccessfully.
Wells was about to go over to her to help, but Lincoln and Octavia got there first, hoisting her up. Raven glowered at them, but gave them a quiet 'thank you.' Octavia and Lincoln went to their own hammock. Hammocks big enough to support two people came into view when Wells followed Octavia and Lincoln's figures over to the larger hammocks. He nodded, looking back to where Raven was lying. She'd be safe. Rocking ships could sometimes be soothing. Especially if you were lying down. It might be easier to help Raven get to sleep.
Wells couldn't even count the number of sleepless nights Raven had had thanks to either pain or nightmares. It was such a relief when Raven was able to sleep easy. Hopefully tonight would be one of those nights. Wells took one last careful look at her as Abby and the other 100 got in their hammocks, as did many of the Grounder warriors and Wells hopped into his own hammock.
A few minutes passed, Wells occasionally glancing at Raven's hammock and eventually he found between the quiet, save for the creaking of the ship, and the rocking motion the ship gave, swaying him back and forth, he found sleep coming fairly easy, until he heard a loud shout ripping through the air, making everyone jump up from their hammocks or cry out in alarm.
The shout was in a language that was not English. Wells understood it immediately though, thanks to Lincoln's Trigedasleng lessons.
"Stowaways! We have stowaways! Two of 'em! A man! And a girl of nine or ten! Everyone above deck! We have stowaways!"
All of the Grounders were up at the ready. Anya, Lincoln, Octavia and loads of other Grounders were out of their hammocks, their blades drawn. Wells tried not to groan. Stowaways? Really? God, what was happening now?
Author's note:
Kodee: Cody
If I haven't made it obvious enough, yes, Wells has feelings for Raven.
And don't get upset about me cutting off the Ontari and Clarke scene. I'll write in more of it in the next chapter. Also, it's going to be rated M next chapter, because I've been pushing the envelope a lot, seeing what I can get away with, with only a T rating, but I suspect in the hypocritical societies that exist around the world, including my own, a few lopped off heads are fine, but two perfectly healthy grown up human beings having consensual sex would end with me being yelled at by this site, so I'll rate it M next chap so keep that in mind.
And it always gives me joy to write Bellboy as a worthless idiot. Because let's face it, that's what he is and always will be. I meant what I said in a previous chapter, I couldn't trust a Bellamy, Blaven, Bellarke or Bellamurphy fan as far as I could throw them. Have fun with those abusive relationships you're fantasizing about.
And I always laugh when people say that Bellboy and Clarke's relationship would be unconventional on TV because Bellboy is Filipino. That literally is the most hilarious excuse you could have for them being together. Tell another one, please, I haven't had my full dose of laughs yet. Your point?
You know what also would have been unconventional for all the white couples that tend to be on TV? RavenxClarke, AnyaxRaven, AnyaxClarke, AnyaxRavenxClarke, WellsxClarke, LexaxRaven, WellsxRaven, CalliexAbby, Lincoln staying alive in a relationship with Octavia (even though both he and Raven deserve a lot better than that abusive girl). (Not RavenxOctavia, since Raven deserves Sooo much better than such an abuser)
All of these relationships would have been just as unconventional, but as Rothenberg hates lesbians, Asian women and straight black men and think that white men like Kyle Wick, Kane and Jasper and lighter skinned men like Bellboy and Monty are entitled to all women, regardless of race and sexuality, this was not the case. I don't know, Bellarkers, your arguments sound pretty hollow. Not to mention as selfish and unfeeling as you are. Then again, I guess you're trying to resemble your idol, Bellamy. If that's what you're trying to do, you're doing a fantastic job. Now all you need to do is try to cut off a young girl's hand and claim you're just trying to protect someone else. Oh and never take responsibility, because that's basically Bellboy in a nutshell.
Whining and moaning like the pushovers you are of "ooh, Filipino man," at the end of the day doesn't help your case, it's just saying that Rothenberg was smart enough to put in diversity to "act" like he was open-minded, even though he murdered lesbians, black men and Asian women. See what he was doing? He made it seem like he was progressive by having a murderous man be one of the main characters and just have him be Filipino, and have a gay black character survive even though straight black men die and lesbians die. He pretends he's progressive, when at the end of the day he created those characters, just to murder them. And he uses Bellboy's race as a way of pretending he's progressive. Bellboy is his trophy for pretending he's progressive, even though his views on women's and their sexuality and black men are garbage.
This show, thanks to Rothenberg is basically a pile of rotting, steaming, stinking garbage, designed to look better than it is. All thanks to Rothenberg. And Bellboy is at the middle of the rotting heap. He's the mascot of "Aren't I a progressive writer?" Rothenberg.
Let's make something clear, Bellarkers and Blaven fans by the end of the day only care about one person in those relationships. Bellamy. They don't care about either Raven or about Clarke. They don't even register Raven and Clarke as human beings with feelings and choices. As far as they're concerned, they don't care about either of those women's choices. They say they do, but subconsciously, I don't really think so. Which is where my distrust comes from. How trustworthy can people like that be with women's feelings or safety in the real world? Or the choices of fellow women and girls in their life, when it comes to the boyfriends that their friends have? Like I've said in the past, we've all met a Bellamy. He's that toxic male you all know. And Bellarkers and Blavens and the like strike me as the type that would defend that kind of behavior if it comes from a man or boy in the real world.
All Bellarker fans care about is their violent, monstrous prince that they get to parade around like Rothenberg, singing "ooh, progressive, Filipino man gets away with anything, suffers so much, waah, so progressive, waaah, I'm not a sheep at all."
Well, there's more venting off my chest, wipes hands as another Holy Hand Grenade has been flung.
Predator9401: Oh, um, sorry, what were you saying? My ability to maintain any cordiality towards Bellboy fans kind of flushed down the toilet a long time ago. Sorry. I know that you had something important and meaningful to tell me. No, seriously, I did know you had something important to tell me, and I respect it, but I couldn't focus over the sound of Rothenberg and his Bellboy's sheep fangirls' bullshit, so I'm blatantly ignoring the "no rant" advise, even if it sounds like pretty good advise.
Seriously, who could have patience with Bellarkers and any kind of Bellamy fans? I don't have patience for such lack of intelligence and overwhelming sense of entitlement those particular fans have. Seriously, do you think that sack of abusive shit is all you deserve? Do you think that's a sack of shit anyone deserves? Do you have so little self-esteem that all it takes is an abusive cute man to make you roll over and support him?
Do you Bellamy fans have so little self-worth that you think men, or should I say, man-babies like him are all you deserve? It's truly sad and disturbing. Let's make something clear, Bellarke fans only care about one of the two people in that relationship. Bellboy. The sooner, Bellarkers and Bellamy fans admit that, the sooner they can come to terms with the fact that they're misogynists. I can literally picture Bellboy fans cutting down other women verbally to try to get the attentions of a man in the real world. At the very least, be honest with yourselves about what you really care about.
Ugh. Throws another Holy Hand Grenade. Ignore that explosion. And the cow being flung by a catapult. Ignore that. And ignore the comical "moo" noise traveling overhead. Don't be surprised when the fart and hamster insults start to be unloaded.