Disclaimer: So do not own this series that I'm about to insert. That belongs to Disney and is written by Greg Weisman. Specifically Gargoyles.

Also, trigger warnings for graphic killing, mentions of skinning of a character and torture and multiple beheadings.

Warriors of the valley

Chapter 17

Defenders of the night

Back on the Ark, Callie watched through the impenetrable, glass ceiling of the room where she was keeping track of Raven's work. Almost as soon as Raven had been done speaking with Clarke, she had gotten into her spacesuit and gone out to the side of the Ark to start doing repairs.

She watched the spacesuit covered hand of Raven Reyes twist the wrench in her hand. So far, so good.

Callie knew that her floating Kane had probably been a hasty move, but she needed him gone. The sooner he was dead, the safer she felt Clarke and Wells would be. So she couldn't regret that. Raven had told Callie where Clarke thought they'd be safest. Amazonia, not far from Brazil.

From what Callie had heard from Clarke on the radio, when Clarke had been speaking with Raven, it sounded like Clarke was a lot tougher than before. But then, she supposed losing one's father and being thrown out of her own home would do that.

Jaha and Kane were out of the way and they now knew what their next location would be. Callie knew better than to ask, "what could go wrong." People asked that and they were basically asking for trouble. Callie heard the doors behind her open up mechanically and heard Abby's disgusted voice. Callie snorted when she heard Abby. Speaking of trouble.

"What were you thinking? Killing Kane today? You didn't HAVE to kill him!" Abby raved, eyes big, enraged.

Callie forced herself not to roll her eyes as she turned around to face Abby. Abby always tried to make herself above everyone else. Even though she was a petty, backstabbing liar. No better than Jaha himself. Or Kane.

"And what would you have had me do, Abby?" Callie asked, keeping her voice calm. "Spare a murderer? A traitor? A REAL traitor, unlike your husband who was just trying to protect the people of the Ark?"

Abby reeled back from the comment as she had before. But this time her face hardened. "You can keep trying to use that against me. But what you did was wrong, Callie. Kane could have been reasoned with."

Callie looked at Abby skeptically. "Reasoned with? He murdered Thelonius. In his sleep. That's not someone that can be reasoned with. That's someone that needs to be kept away from everyone else."

"And we could have!" Abby snapped. "We could have kept Kane away from everyone else, all we had to do was keep him locked up in the skybox. You didn't have to execute him!"

Callie smirked, "It's funny how on that last part of what you said, that you said 'you' didn't have to kill him. As if I'm the only one that got Kane killed. But don't forget, Abby, we killed him together. You created the circumstances that led to Kane's death. And to Jaha's death. If you hadn't sold Jake Griffin out, there wouldn't have been an opportunity for Jaha to be shot. And if Jaha hadn't been shot, Kane wouldn't have been able to kill him in his sleep. And if he hadn't killed Jaha in his sleep, well, we wouldn't be in this situation, would we now? It's almost like you got Kane killed just as much as I did."

Abby looked like Callie had hit her. Callie smirked at Abby. "Don't act so smug, Abby. If you really loved Jake like you said, you never would have told Jaha about him trying to warn the rest of the Ark. And if you really loved Clarke like a mother's supposed to, you would never have let Jaha know that Clarke knew about the flaw in the Ark."

Callie kept up, her smirk turning into a sad smile. "You sold out your husband. You sold out your daughter. And you sold out your daughter's best friend, because Wells would never have attacked a guard if Clarke hadn't been sent to Earth in the first place." Callie watched as Abby shrunk back further and further. "All this? It's your fault, Abby."

Abby, having been lectured into submission, turned away, looking ashamed. Callie turned away from her and went past her out the door. She was going to ready the guards. Her guards. It would take up to four hours to get from here to Amazonia and an additional hour to touch down to the ground.

So five hours. Callie thought about what Clarke had told Raven. Clarke had mentioned that they were somewhere else now. Disneyworld. Apparently. Sure, it seemed like a joke, but Clarke claimed that it wasn't a joke. She said they were in Disneyworld, Florida now. Callie turned around and went back into the room where Abby was, picking up the radio, then going out of the room again, ignoring Abby's surprised look at Callie gathering up the radio.

Callie talked into the radio. She wanted to know where Clarke and Wells were. And she wanted to hear their voices again. "Clarke, Wells, sweeties, are you both there?" She waited as she walked, hearing static come through the speaker of the radio.

Then Clarke's voice came through. "Uh…..Callie, can't talk right now. This is…wow. We'll…get back to you, okay?"

Callie stared at the radio, not walking anymore, alarmed. What was happening here? "Clarke?" Callie asked into the radio, nervousness obvious in her voice. "Clarke, are you and Wells alright?"

Clarke said, still sounding uneasy, "We're alright. Just-just very confused. We'll get back to you. But we're fine, okay?"

Callie frowned. That didn't help. "Can you tell me where you and Wells are now?"

There was more hesitation, then Clarke answered, "We're still in Florida. Still in Disneyworld. Just wait for us to meet with you in Amazonia. Okay? I have to go right now."

Callie lowered the radio in her hand, staring at it. What the hell had just happened? Callie didn't want to think about this, but Clarke had sounded frightened. Uncertain. Why? What had scared her? And that something that had scared her was something going on that needed Clarke's attention.

Callie heard the radio go silent and went down the hall fast. New plan. She wasn't going to order the pilots to go for Amazonia, South America. Not yet. There would be a two-hour flight to Florida. She wouldn't have the Ark touch down to the ground yet, not until Clarke gave her the go-ahead. But she needed to get the Ark to Florida. She needed their forces to be close to where her children were. If these people hurt either Clarke or Wells, she wanted the guards to be nearby where she could order them to protect her children.

Back in Florida, Earth, Clarke made sure that Callie didn't have anything else to ask when the radio went silent. She put the radio back onto the hem of her pocket, switching the radio off in addition, wanting to make sure they had silence as the two figures approached. Clarke had told Callie what she could. But still, her eyes couldn't pull away from the blue figure next to the dark-skinned woman.

Both figures were women. One of them was obviously human. Hair black, so black that it was almost a glossy dark blue color. She was brown-skinned. Clarke wasn't going to assume her ethnicity, but possibly Latina. The woman next to her, on the other hand, without question, was NOT human. She was light blue in color. Had dark blue wings that were caped around her shoulders and the edges hung just above the floor. She had a long, thick, light blue tail. She had a mass of wild, dark red hair that went down to the middle of her back, a gold tiara on her brow, just above her eyes. She was muscled, despite being slim. There was a gold thin ban around her right arm. Her upper torso and lower torso were covered with cloth garments. Around her waist, a white loincloth, around her chest, a white, cloth brazier type of covering.

The blue non-human woman turned her attention on the newcomers in front of her, smiling at their shock, a flash of polished white fangs showing off. Her eyes black bounced from one person to another that had been brought to her. She turned then to the white-haired man that had led them here and nodded for him to leave. "Puck," She said coolly, "You've done well. Now leave us."

The white-haired man nodded to her and left. The group of humans in front of her stared at the being standing there before them. The blue gargoyle smiled at them.

"Impressed, are you? Or afraid?" She asked the humans. "I wouldn't be surprised if you're afraid. Humans seem very quick to fear and hate, after all."

Clarke stared at this woman. What the fuck? Who or what was this woman? She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "I'm sorry," She said quietly, "I really hope I'm not sounding rude when I'm asking this, but what are you?"

The blue gargoyle laughed, her laughter thick and rich. "You really ARE new to this world, aren't you? Then again, most of the tribes don't like talking about us. I, naïve one, am a gargoyle." The blue woman stared intently at the blonde girl who spoke. "I'm sure you saw all those statues outside. Those were gargoyles. We shed our stone skin at night. And you are privy to seeing the results." She held up he right hand, showing off her talons. She smirked, showing her sharp, white fangs. "I'm sure this is all a shock to all of you. But I must ask you to get used to it. The sooner you do, the sooner you will be on your way, as we've had it explained?" The redheaded, blue gargoyle looked at Niylah who nodded.

The woman next to the blue gargoyle, the dark-skinned woman with the almost blue-black hair chuckled, smiling at the still shocked kids in front of them, gripping their firearms, "Demona, I think you scared the crap out of them." The woman turned to the vagabonds that had come into their land.

"Sorry about not introducing ourselves." The woman gestured to herself, "I'm Elisa." She nodded to the gargoyle she had named "Demona," "This is my wife, Demona. Our other wife, Fox, is sending second lieutenant out to get the boats." Elisa smirked at the kids. "I always wondered what the Ark people were like. From the looks of your clothing, you're not that different from the people I grew up with. Or the era I grew up in."

Clarke looked at Niylah, searching for answers. The 'era' this woman grew up in? Wait, was this "Elisa" saying that she was a lot older than she looked?

Niylah smiled at Clarke, "I'll explain everything later." She promised Clarke in Trigedasleng.

Clarke shook her head. Well, wasn't THAT convenient?

Demona saw the interaction and chuckled. "I know you all have questions. But I'll give you the short answer for everything. Magic. Now, I think we should see all of you to your rooms. And Niylah kom Trikru can explain everything there."

On the paths of the Trikru land, Onya had devised a plan as she and Sekena had spoken at great detail about what Klark was like. When the two of them and their warriors were about to cross the barrier between the Trikru's land and the Podakru's land, on their way to the Luwoda's land, Onya knew at that moment that she couldn't allow any of the 100 that Klark had left behind to live. They were dangerous. Belomi especially was dangerous. His betrayal had ended Klark's life.

So she would have to find a way of killing all of them. Especially Belomi.

So when they were about to take their horses across the Podakru's land, Onya pulled out a sheet of leather, which her people often used as writing materials, and pulled out her small inkpot that was in her pouch. She snapped off a twig, the sharp end up and stuck the sharp end into the inkpot and began writing on the leather sheet as her warriors calculated how long it would take to get from here to the Luwoda's land.

Sekena tilted her head as she watched her esteemed general write a letter out in the Trikru's native language, addressing Diflan and Korten, the Polis jailers in her letter.

"Onya?" Sekena asked gently, looking confused. "Why are you writing a letter to Korten and Diflan?"

Onya turned her head to Sekena as she wrote. "I am protecting Klark from threats. If I must use the Commander's will to get it done, then I will do it."

Sekena's eyes widened. She was starting to doubt Onya's promise that everything the other woman had told her was true less and less. Why should she doubt it? Had Onya ever exhibited proof of being mad before now? Had she ever made up any stories of previous worlds before? No. And why would Onya go to such lengths to protect a girl that Sekena had no memory of, unless what Onya said happened actually happened?

No, as disturbing as Onya's behavior might be now, there was no reason why Sekena should doubt Onya's mental stability.

If Onya said that there was a girl-child that Sekena had come to love as her own daughter, then Sekena believed her. But what was Onya doing now?

As Sekena read the words that Onya wrote out, her eyes grew huge and her mouth slack. Onya was going to make sure that the recent prisoners were going to be killed? She looked at Onya, shocked. Onya was going behind the Commander's back to keep this 'Klark' safe? Sekena stared at the letter. Just who WAS this Klark? Onya had told Sekena a great deal about Klark, but even with all this information, Sekena couldn't comprehend who would ever get Onya to the point that she would betray her Heda and at one time Second.

After detailing what was to be done, Onya waited for the ink to dry and pulled out the ring that Leksa had given her two years ago, making her the bearer of the Commander's symbol. Onya dipped the sigil of the Commander into the inkpot and pulled the ring out and slammed the sigil into the paper, just below the instructions in the letter, giving the last touch of the Commander's sign.

Onya then tossed the piece of twig onto the forest floor, discarding it. She then dropped her ring back into her pouch and closed the pouch up. She watched as the ink of the sign began to dry up. She capped the inkpot and put it back into another pouch and closed that pouch up. She then pulled out a plastic tube where the letter was to go for it to have a safe journey from here to Polis.

After Onya was sure that the ink was all dried up, she rolled up the leather sheet and stuffed it into the plastic tube. She capped the plastic tube and rose up, walking over to one of the nearest guards. She told him that Leksa had given her the scroll and that he was to deliver it to Polis and to the guards Diflan and Korten.

The guard Onya gave the scroll to, Mefert, bowed his head and jumped onto his horse and rode off, heading to Polis. As he departed from their group, Onya walked back to Sekena.

Sekena shook her head, smirking. To tell Mefert that the Commander herself had ordered this scroll to be delivered to the jailors of Polis and therefore, the Commander was giving the order to kill the 100? That was an unspeakable treachery. Sekena felt a laugh coming out of her quietly, "This has to be the most deceitful thing I've ever seen you do, Onya."

Onya nodded, smirking. "I'm doing what I need to do. I'm going to keep my beloved safe."

Sekena nodded. "Alright." She said. "So we're going to make sure that the 100 are killed. What happens after that?"

Onya smirked. "We join Klark, obviously. Tell me, do you have any reason to stay with the Trikru?"

Sekena opened her mouth to protest, stunned that Onya would suggest them leave their tribe for someone as far as Sekena knew, was a stranger. But then she thought about Onya's question. Now that Sekena thought about it, no, she couldn't think of any reason to stay with the Trikru.

Sekena's mother and father were both a non-issue. Her mother had died giving birth to Sekena. So Sekena's father had blamed her all throughout Sekena's life, until Sekena slit his throat in his sleep, leaving the dagger of one of Sekena's enemies by his bed, making it look like said enemy, Brakoe, someone who had made more than a few rape threats against her, had been the one to kill her father, in order to take advantage of her.

It had worked, and Sekena had ensured both her abusive father's death and the would-be rapist, Brakoe's death in one swoop, and watched with a cold smile as Brakoe was cut to pieces as he was tied up against a wooden stake.

She had no siblings to speak of. And her few lovers had been disappointments. According to Onya, this "Klark" was as close as Sekena had to a child. A daughter. It seemed if there was ever a reason to leave her tribe, Klark was it for both Sekena and Onya.

"When do we leave?" Sekena asked, not believing her own words.

"Tonight." Onya answered, packing up what she needed, fast. "As soon as everyone is asleep, the two of us will leave with a small group of troops most loyal to us and we'll find Klark."

Sekena nodded. No, Onya had never been this serious about a betrayal ever. And she had never even considered betraying Heda, till now. Which meant that this Klark was real. And Onya truly was going to betray Heda to find her. Which meant that the events that Onya had described to Sekena, truly had occurred. Even though they hadn't happened in THIS world. Or perhaps had been a prophecy that the god of visions, Kanvakar had given Onya. But then, that would be unlikely, wouldn't it? Story had it that when an individual was chosen for Kanvakar's visions, they would have the visions since childhood. Onya had exhibited no visions till now. Which meant Onya being capable of prophecies was incredibly improbable. So then, it was Aldey, was it? Goddess of time?

It seemed like the only possibility they were left with.

Sekena nodded to Onya. "Give me time to pack my things." She said to her general. "I should be prepared by tonight."

Sekena turned to her pack as the different warriors spoke, distracted. She made sure to pack only what she needed. Extra food, extra canteens of water, a compass, maps, steel and flint, her knives, her daggers, her bow and quiver of arrows and her hatchet.

She packed everything up and put the packs over her horse, Talak. Onya did the same, bringing packs of her belongings to her horse, Dofren and threw the packs over Dofren's back. Onya met Sekena's gaze and they understood each other. They'd leave at nightfall, with their warriors.

In what used to be called Disneyworld, Florida, the group that were the guests of the Luwoda, led by three apparently ancient-but not appearing ancient women, were escorted to their bunks by the Luwoda guards.

Clarke watched the different guards escort the other members of her group to their rooms. Clarke announced to the rest of the people in her group, "You all need to contact me if anything goes wrong." She looked right at Pascal, deciding that out of all the group that weren't Wells, Monroe and Niylah, he was the one who could be the most trustworthy of them. "You watch out and let me know if anything's wrong, okay, Pascal?"

Pascal seemed to get the point and nodded. "Alright." He glanced uneasily at the guards, then turned back to Clarke and smiled. "You got it, boss." He and Trina went off to their room, holding their weapons close as they went in. Monty and Jasper looked at each other, uneasily, then turned back to Clarke.

"We'll help too, if you need us, Clarke." Jasper told Clarke. Clarke fought a smirk. She really, really didn't feel that reassured by Jasper's promises. He was weak. A little shit that basically was asking to be kicked. But she just gave him a nod to indicate that she was alright with his presence, even though she was just tolerating him. What a worthless little shit. But she knuckled down her anger. AGAIN. Cause of fucking course, she always had to.

When Monty and Jasper disappeared into their room, Clarke breathed in relief. At least she didn't need to think about how much she still wanted to bash Jasper's head in to a bloody pulp-the traitorous, little bastard.

She felt eyes on her and she turned, finding Monroe's eyes on her yet again, watching her watch Jasper.

Clarke turned away from her, scowling. Harper and Fox went to their own room, Harper looking at Clarke almost regretfully. Clarke grimaced. Harper obviously had decided that she would like to try at some kind of relationship with Clarke, without any strings attached. Clarke supposed it was a good thing that Monroe had spared Harper that. Clarke wasn't sure she wouldn't deliberately try to corrupt Harper with her darkness. In hindsight, Clarke realized that Harper-had the other girl gotten into a relationship with Clarke, would have gotten way in over her head. Harper was a nice girl, but she was too nice and naïve for her own good. Heh, Clarke would have emotionally ripped Harper's heart out and eaten it (metaphorically speaking, obviously).

Finn looked at Clarke, forlorn and Clarke rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, Collins." She said dryly. "You run off and jerkoff in your own room, dumbass."

Finn winced and went into the room. Wells looked Clarke's way. "I'll keep an eye on him." He promised Clarke. Clarke nodded.

Clarke added, gesturing to the weapons in Wells's hands. "You hang onto those weapons, brother."

Wells nodded. He gestured with the barrel of his gun at Clarke's own weapons. "You do the same, sis." Clarke smiled in appreciation as Wells and Finn disappeared into their room.

Monroe and Clarke looked at each other. Then Clarke looked at Niylah, smirking at them both.

"So, you two wanna share a room with me, or what?" Clarke asked suggestively.

Niylah nodded to Clarke. "When you are of age, yes. However, until then, I will be spending my time in a separate room."

Clarke immediately rolled her eyes. "Fuck," She groaned. "You guys are such killjoys. Fine. Whatever. I'll share a room with Monroe, I guess." She gave Monroe a suggestive look, but Monroe wasn't fazed.

Monroe said simply, "If there's only one bed, I'll sleep on the floor." They knew that there was no chance of that. The leaders here had assured them that there were two beds in each room.

"There's no concern about there being too few rooms." One of the guards, Wentow said, looking at Clarke. "We put a third bed into a room, when we saw there was an uneven number amongst your group."

"So I will be sharing a room with them?" Niylah asked. The guard nodded. Niylah turned to the curious Clarke. "I will share this room with you, then. But I will NOT touch you."

Clarke scowled, shaking her head. "Fuck."

The three of them were escorted into their room, Clarke scowling the whole time and only after the door closed behind them, pulled the strap of her gun off of her and placed it down onto the bed on the left-hand side of the room. She said coldly as she unpacked her belongings, "The two of you are more trouble than you're worth."

"And you're worth all the trouble in the world, Klark." Niylah said, undoing her belt of knives and putting them down on the table next to her bed, looking at Klark with meaning. "We're going to keep you safe and help you. And that includes not touching you when touching you in the way you're demanding is bad for you."

"And who says it's bad for me? The two of you? Huh?" Clarke sneered, smirking.

"Why would it be good for you?" Monroe asked, putting her guns and knives onto the bedside table next to her bed. "Because you can use sex as a way of forgetting everything? Of not feeling anything? That's not a long-term solution. And you know that. And we sure as hell aren't going to let you get involved with an adult, so long as you're not an adult."

Clarke snorted and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Even if it's not a long-term solution, so what? It's a way of not having to feel trauma. Or being distracted from it. Is that so wrong? Some people use drugs. Some people use actual punching bags, some people use other people as punching bags. I think casual, consensual sex is one of the more innocent ways of dealing with trauma."

"Sure it is," Monroe said, "When you admit that it's just a temporary solution and you have a plan afterwards. And that you're not just doing it to distance yourself from everything. Are you planning on ever having relationships again? I don't just mean romantic relationships. I mean, of any kind of relationship? Or are you going to just have casual sex and push everyone else away for the rest of your life?"

Clarke snapped her head back to Monroe, glaring. "Whose fucking business is that of yours, Monroe? It's my own business, so fuck off."

"Actually it IS my business." Monroe said, sitting down on the bed, facing Clarke, face surprisingly mature, despite her age and past years of immaturity-Clarke was sure there had been many immature actions Monroe had taken. Monroe continued, "It's not my business because I love you. I DO love you, but your choices aren't my business because of that. I don't get to tell you what to do. But because I want our people to survive, and because you're our best hope of our people surviving, what you do, the choices you make are very much my business."

Clarke scowled. "I'll sleep with who I want, when I want. Or are you going to stop me from sleeping with anyone I come across? Even total strangers?" Monroe looked away, sighing. Her lower jaw tightened, hoping Clarke didn't see that her question hurt. Clarke would rather fuck a complete stranger than even try to have a relationship with her and Niylah? Or maybe that was just what Clarke wanted her to believe.

Monroe answered, looking at Clarke, "I won't stop you from sleeping with people, not if you want to sleep with them. But you're not having sex with Harper or any of the others. And you won't do it with adults, until you're a full-grown adult. But that's it. I won't stop you, if you want to have casual sex. That's your own choice." She knew she heard the bitterness in her voice and she doubted that Clarke missed it.

She saw Clarke's eyes narrowed and for a second, she saw a flash of guilt cross Clarke's face, or thought she saw it.

Clarke then looked away and grumbled, "Oh, thank you so much, your highness, I'm so glad you're giving me permission to do what I want."

Monroe sighed. She turned to Niylah. Niylah didn't look troubled. The oldest of the three of them seemed calm. Far too calm. She smiled and gave Monroe a look that both sparked Monroe's interest, and worried her.

Niylah smirked and nodded to Monroe. The look on Niylah's face seemed to speak the words, "It'll be alright," in loud volumes. Monroe wasn't sure if she should trust Niylah's confidence, but for some reason, she did.

Monroe then added, deciding they needed to establish this one issue fast, "So, magic exists, huh? Funny how we never knew that before."

"Yeah." Clarke said. "Then again, there were a lot of really fucking important things back then we should have known of that we didn't." Clarke turned to Niylah. "You knew, right? You know stuff. What more do you know about magic? And about those two women and the other queen?"

Niylah tilted her head up at Clarke. "The blue gargoyle you saw, Demona? She's many more centuries old than two or three centuries. She's been around for a long, long time. Her longevity comes from three witches. They call themselves the "Weird Sisters." Demona also was bonded to another being until that bond was magically altered so that it was instead, bonded to her wives, Elisa and Fox. In her possession, Demona has supposedly several magical artifacts. And she, for a time, was the enemy of the ancestors of many gargoyles that are in this tribe today. A gargoyle clan that used to live in the Trikru's land. Specifically the part of Trikru land called "York City.""

"New York City." Clarke said, "And this clan? Their descendants live here now?"

Niylah nodded. "There are pictures and tapestries about the original clan that lived in York City centuries ago. Those pictures and tapestries are in some of the halls of the other buildings. The ones where you say the 'rides' are? Those pictures and tapestries are there."

Clarke nodded. "Alright. Anything else?"

"Yes," Niylah answered, "The descendants of the original clan in York City-many of them are Demona's descendants. Because Demona had a daughter in that original clan. And Queen Elisa? She used to be an ally of the clan that Demona was enemies of back in York City."

Clarke looked like she was thinking on this. "So Demona and Elisa were originally enemies, huh?"

"That's right." Niylah answered.

Clarke snickered. "Well, I guess that's one enemy that stayed allied." She shook her head. "I guess SOME alliances have to last. Just not mine." She turned away and unloaded the rest of her belongings. Monroe and Niylah shared a troubled look as Clarke kept acting nonchalant.

Across the hall from the rooms where Clarke, Monroe, Niylah, Wells and the others were bunking for the night, two of the three queens of the Luwoda, Demona and Elisa went to their bed together, as they did every night since they had first fallen in love all those centuries ago.

Demona's sleep schedule had always been off ever since Puck's spell on her centuries ago. She had neglected to tell her guests here that she turned into a human during the day. She was fine with letting them think that she turned to stone during the day like the rest of her kind.

She would take a nap after sex with her wife, but it wouldn't be a long one. She slept at odd hours, more than anything else.

Elisa dropped onto her rear on the side of the bed, next to where Demona sat. She faced the blue gargoyle. "So what are you thinking about doing about the people that came here from the Trikru area?" Elisa asked Demona.

Demona shook her head, dark red-black hair fluttering against her muscled, blue shoulders. "Does it matter?" Demona asked, chuckling. "They require help. And we're giving it. That's all. We'll provide them the boats they need."

Elisa nodded. "And if they need to stay?"

Demona lifted her eyebrows up against her gold tiara. "Stay? You would like these people to stay? We don't know anything about them."

Elisa nodded. "We don't." She agreed. "But we have preparations, if they're not to be trusted. We have magic, we have weapons, we have armies. Would it really be so bad to help people who need help?"

Demona sighed, tilting her head against her left fist, as she propped her left arm on the bed. "You're trying to appeal to my 'better' gargoyle nature?" Demona sked, smirking. "I think we both know that that nature rarely comes out. Even nowadays."

Elisa smiled. "I'm not asking you to be selfless." She said. "I'm just asking you to consider helping some kids that obviously need help and want their people to survive. Don't forget, if these Ark people don't survive, it's the end of an entire clan of people."

Demona smirked. "But not the end of humanity," She said dryly, "There are humans all over the world, still. Regretfully."

Elisa chuckled. "But we're not talking about humanity in general, are we?" She asked her wife, "We're talking about one group of people. I know you have a hard time disbelieving that all human groups are the same. But maybe these people can be a help to us too. If they join us, we'll have a new army. If they don't? Then we'll send them on their way. And we'll be helping people."

At Elisa's urgent smile, Demona groaned. She could never deny Elisa anything. "Very well." She said begrudgingly. "I will help them. But if they betray us-"

Elisa smiled wider, leaning down and kissing Demona. "Thank you, Demona." She whispered as they parted.

Demona chuckled, taking Elisa into her arms and having the human straddle her. "What am I going to do with you?" Demona said in a mock dramatic tone, as she began helping Elisa remove her clothing.

Back in the Trikru area, where Onya and Sekena were located, the rest of the band of Trikru, were sleeping soundly. Most of them were wrapped up in their furs and sleeping next to their horses. Some of them were sleeping in various tents around the campsite. Onya had told everyone at the campsite that she and Sekena would take the first watch. This, of course, was a way of getting the rest of the band to go to sleep quicker, so that Onya and Sekena would be awake and have the chance to sneak off with their horses and supplies.

So now that the rest of the band was asleep, Onya led her horse by the reins and walked away from the band, Sekena following after her. The few warriors that Onya had known already would be willing to follow Onya into hell, were following after the two of them.

Onya turned to those warriors and said to them quietly, "You must mean your loyalty to me when we go find the person we're looking for," She told them. "You betray me, and you'll wish that Heda was the one that killed you."

All of Onya's most loyal warriors nodded and got up on their horses. Onya did as well, and so did Sekena. They eventually left, the horses picking up speed, and they fled the sleeping band of warriors.

Onya and Sekena's group was made up of eleven fighters, not including Onya and Sekena themselves.

Onya had been relieved to learn that her second in command, twenty-six-year-old Sathna, one of her best warriors, and had been almost as good a fighter as Onya herself-was coming along. Sathna, a daughter of one of the nearest villages here, was a fear to witness in a battle. And as Onya recalled, had formed a great deal of respect for Klark even before Klark had become Wanheda.

Flanking Onya's left side, were Sekena and Sathna. And next to Sathna, was the warrior and great archer, nineteen-year-old Mardo kom Boudalan. The great-grandson of one of the previous Commanders. It was rare for Commanders to have children, but when they did, the offspring were treated with immense respect. Mardo himself, had decided to not want to rely on the praises of others to help him become a better warrior. He had made himself a better warrior and master archer.

Next to Mardo, was Lethena kom Ingranrona. Young, wild and deadly, Lethena was like a spitfire, leaping from one battle to the next, able to get a horse to listen to her just with a few slices of apple and urgent kicks to the sides and the twenty-one-year-old woman one of the most spry, frightening forces of nature many elders of the Ingranrona had ever seen.

Next to Lethena, was Auden kom Poda. The thirty-one-year-old, spiked mace wielding warrior had gone up in ranks over the years quite fast, and was one of the most loyal fighters one could ask for.

Next to Auden, was the twenty-eight-year-old Rafa kom Trikru. Born and raised amongst the Trikru warriors, she was a stealthy, quick and deadly sight to behold. There were some suspicions about how she had gotten to where she got so quickly, when it was known that the leader of her village loathed her, because her mother had spurned him. However, no one spoke a word against Rafa when the leader of that village, Geti, had died in a hunting accident. Curious thing, that.

Onya didn't care what Rafa may or may not have done to Geti. She needed Rafa now, more than ever.

Flanking Onya's other side, closest to Onya, was the almost forty-year-old Kolak kom Trikru. Kolak was gruff and grumpy, but he was a good warrior to have around. Loyal, reliable, strong and dexterous. He was exactly who someone would want alongside them during a vicious battle.

Next to Kolak on his other side, opposite of Onya, was the twenty-nine-year-old Forna kom Azgeda. All groups of a general came from all over the different tribes. Most tribes were hesitant to let members of the Azgeda tribe end up in their different bands, as Azgeda was considered particularly untrustworthy and particularly vicious. However, Onya had discovered a good and loyal friend in Forna, and what was more, a powerful force for her band in her as well.

Next to Forna, opposite of Kolak, was the seventeen-year-old Hadvenk kom Trishana. The boy was from the same tribe as Onya's mother. And so she had taken him under her wing as soon as she had learned of his village's providence. However, given that she had done so, the boy had become eternally loyal to her. His mother and father had been killed by the Mountain Men and he had no brothers or sisters and had no other family. So for him, Onya and these other warriors with them at the moment, were his family.

Next to Hadvenk, was the twenty-three-year-old Jakora kom Ingranrona. An excellent strategist. Onya would be hesitant to say this, but possibly even a better strategist than she herself, and Klark even.

Next to Jakora, opposite of Hadvenk, was the twenty-four-year-old Dontor. Like Hadvenk, had been an orphan amongst the Trikru, though supposedly originally from Floukru land, he had wandered into Trikru land and had been taken in. Onya had brought him into her band. And he considered these nine other warriors, Sekena and Onya his family. It helped that he had become a great warrior quickly throughout the years.

Next to Dontor, was the twenty-year-old Eltesa kom Azgeda. Feared even by many Azgeda warriors, Eltesa had learned at a very young age, that the best way of keeping the dangers of the Ice Nation away from her, was to be a vicious force of nature. However, when Eltesa had killed a pack of wolves attacking Onya, almost getting killed herself and earning multiple scars from the wolves' fangs, Onya had put her faith in the girl for life.

Onya trusted these eleven and Sekena only. The rest of the band, she knew, were too loyal to the Commander. As soon as they caught wind of Onya's betrayal, they would run to the Commander first chance they got. Not out of spite, no. But because their commander came first.

Onya knew that there had been one time when she had been the same way. She had been foolish and naïve. She hadn't realized that the only thing to be loyal to, was honor. She had worshipped the Commander's status, as they all had. But she saw better now. It was now time for her to correct those mistakes on her part.

The irony had not been missed by her that these warriors with her, including Sekena, were all warriors who had come to admire Klark, during their time knowing her in Polis and Ton DC. The rest of the band of warriors that Onya left behind, were the warriors that had been killed in the ring of fire that Klark had ordered invented. All three hundred of those warriors were not present. The rest of them were back closer to the area where the dropship had landed. But they were leaving behind at least eighty-three of them.

These warriors here with Onya, they were her most trusted companions. They might not have remembered Klark, but she had no doubt that they would listen to Klark's orders, when she gave them one, as long as Onya told them to.

Onya had kept track of the events mentally. Tris had been called for to help Onya a few months after the Sky Peoples' 100 had landed. As long as Onya made sure that Tris stayed at home and gave Klark a reason to trust her, she doubted that Tris would die. She just had to make sure the events that had happened before, didn't happen again.

The thirteen riders had their horses gallop from the forest and through the valley as the sky darkened more and more. They knew they didn't have to worry about Ripas or Mountain Men, as they were going further from those parts of the woods and valleys than before.

It was why their band had felt reassured about sleeping where they had been sleeping.

As they rode, Lethena called over to Onya, "General, are you sure you're alright with leaving the others back there? Are you sure you want to leave them behind permanently?"

Onya asked, smirking over her shoulder at Lethena, before looking back at the dark path ahead, "Having second thoughts, Lethena?"

Lethena smirked back at Onya, shaking her head. "Not on your life, general! I just want to be sure that that's what you want."

Onya nodded, not facing any of her warriors. "I know what to do, lieutenant. And as long as all of you are with me, I'm sure I'll succeed."

Eltesa barked out a laugh. "Lead on, general!" She crowed, "I never trusted the Commanders anyway! This should be a good notch in our belts! The great betrayers of the Commander!"

Onya felt a laugh bubble in her throat when she heard the others laugh around her, including the great grandson of one of the previous commanders, Mardo himself. It sounded like they were all alright with this dark plan. Onya grinned. She couldn't complain, could she?

In the capital of the tribespeople's land, the capital known as Polis, the messenger, named Mefert, had delivered the scroll at a surprising speed. He had taken the fastest horse in Onya's band of warriors and had delivered the scroll to the two jailors, Diflan and Kortek.

Diflan and Kortek opened up the scroll and read the contents, dismissing Mefert. As Mefert left and Diflan and Kortek read the scroll, they looked at each other, nodded to each other, tossed the letter to the floor, pulled out their razor-sharp knives and approached the cells of their prisoners.

Diflan was the first to reach the closest cell. The cell of a boy who he had heard be named "Mofi." He opened the door up and came in.

Sitting and stewing in his cell, was John Murphy. He kicked his empty bowl that he had cleaned of the few scraps of food provided to him. He felt like he could curse, yet again, when he heard the clanking of a cage door opening up. He lifted his head and his eyes widened as two figures came in, both bearing big, sharp knives.

"The fuck are you two doing?!" He demanded, backing up against the stone wall of his cage.

The bigger of the two of them announced proudly, "You are hereby sentenced to die, Mofi kom Skaikru, in the name of Heda."

Murphy gasped, trying to bolt, but immediately grabbed by the other guard, his arm being twisted back so hard, his bones came out of his socket and he cried a shriek that bounced off the walls as the bigger guard slammed his knife deep into Murphy's throat, cutting Murphy's throat right out and watching as he bled out over the floor.

As Murphy's mind started fading, eyes rolling up as he died, he thought to himself, (fuck, go figure that I died like this).

Next, Kortek and Diflan moved to the next cell, where the woman, Roma was being kept. They proceeded to slit her throat and let her bleed out. When they were sure she was dead, they moved to the next few cells. In minutes, they had decapitated all five Nathan Miller, Diggs, Myles, Connor and Atom. They moved on to kill seven more people. Heads were sliced off. Throats were cut. Hearts were cut out. People were sliced in half.

They eventually reached the cell of the girl named Oktevia. They knew that she had been brought in later. But the Commander's letter had been specific. None of them were to be spared. They went into Oktevia's cell and smirked as Oktevia stared at them, backing away. Though she was already badly beaten up-apparently another one of the 100 sky people that had come down, had beaten Oktevia up before leaving. It didn't matter to Kortek or Diflan. They would kill her regardless of previous damage.

Diflan held Oktevia down as Kortek, cut her head off, slicing the brunette's head off with one stroke of his machete.

Oktevia, as they had learned, was the younger sister of the leader of the 100. So they would use her head as a way of tormenting him.

They picked Oktevia's head off the floor from where it had fallen after being severed from her neck, by the head's hair and carried it to the now dead girl's brother's cell.

Finally, they reached the cell of the self-acclaimed leader of the now slaughtered 100. The man known as Belomi. ((

They opened the door of his cell and threw Oktevia's head at his feet. The head rolled along the stone floor, till it reached Belomi's feet.

Diflan and Kortek watched, gleeful grins crossing their faces as the arrogant little pig that was Belomi stared down in horror at the severed head of his sister and started to raise his head to stare at the men who had thrown it at him.

"What…". He whispered, brown eyes wide, paling as he spoke, "What the fuck have you done?"

"I'd have thought it was obvious, you pathetic worm," Kortek sneered. "We killed your sister. Decapitated her. Do you like what we've done?"

The ugly, freckled worm clenched his teeth and his fists balled up.

"Oh, no," Kortek laughed to Diflan, "I don't think he liked our gift!"

Diflan snickered. "Too bad. It's the only gift he's going to get. And the last one he'll ever have."

The two guards closed in on Belomi, gleeful still.

This was rare of the two guards. Really, it was. Normally, neither Diflan, nor Kortek would ever kill someone as sadistically as they were about to. Normally when ordered to kill prisoners, they did it quickly, as they had with all of the other prisoners that they had killed before reaching this cell, including Oktevia.

But this thing? This wretch that had been locked up here with his little gang? He was a low life of the worst sort. The type that would cut a friend's throat, all so he could feel superior to everyone else. He was totally without honor. Weak. Stupid.

They would feel nothing over killing him. Helped that they found him quite ugly.

It was there and then that Bellamy Blake, the only one time leader of the low life group of teenagers, known as the 100, screamed and cursed as his skin was slowly flayed off his bones. His lips were cut off. His teeth were ripped off. His ears cut off. His nose cut off. His tongue cut out as he screamed at them for murdering his little sister. They cut his hands off. They cut off his feet. And finally, they peeled all his skin right off. As he bled out, his body a mass of exposed nerve endings, tendons, blood, meat and muscle, he stared right at them and even though his tongue had been taken, he still conveyed the look to the two guards standing over him, smirking. The question in his offended brown eyes said one question. Why?

Kortek leaned forward, his dark-skinned face, centimeters from the low life. "Because," He told the other man in perfect Gonasleng, "You are the oldest of this group. You were supposed to protect them. And you abused them instead. We killed them quickly, so that they couldn't suffer anymore. But you, Belomi, brother of Oktevia, you are going to suffer. Repeatedly."

Bellamy stared up in horror at them. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined he would die this way.

In all his fantasies of being powerful, of being top-dog, had ever dreamed of being skinned alive and tortured some more.

He had dreamed of becoming chancellor one day and getting to kill who he wanted to kill.

Fuck as many beautiful teenage girls as he wanted to fuck. The younger the better. Especially if they were developing.

And no one would stop him.

But he never had imagined this. Not even close. This wasn't fair! He finally had power! He finally had had a piece of the fucking pie like he deserved for serving as a guard for so long.

And this was his reward? For finally landing on top? Losing his mom? Seeing all the people that should have been his servants get killed right next to him and he could do nothing? And his sister, his little sister who he had always sworn to protect, was decapitated. Her head rotting in the corner of the cell, opposite of him. And now he was going to be killed slowly.

(What the fuck did I do to deserve this?) This was Bellamy Blake's last thought, before Diflan lowered his knife to Bellamy's throat and started cutting.

Sawing, sawing and sawing, back and forth. Back and forth. The knife sawed into Bellamy's neck over and over again. Bellamy felt everything. Every little shred, he felt. It was agony.

He screamed for mercy as his head was slowly sawed off, even though he couldn't form any words.

The last thing that Bellamy Blake knew in this life, was agonizing pain, and desperation for the release of death.

If anyone had known him, really known him, they would have said that he deserved worse.

Diflan and Kortek tossed Belomi's body onto the floor next to his sister's head. They took his decapitated head out of the jails and down the hall and tossed it to the pack of dogs outside the jail cell. The dogs, taught to rip apart bloody body parts, immediately fell upon Belomi's decapitated head like vultures, ripping it apart some more.

Soon Belomi's body followed. Then Oktevia's head and body followed. Then Mofi's. Then Nathan Miller's. Then all the others.

Back in the Luwoda land, in the place that at one time had been known as "Disneyworld," Monroe, Niylah and Clarke were getting ready for bed.

Niylah laid down onto her cot, facing Monroe and Clarke as Clarke came out of their shared bathroom, having brushed her teeth and everything and changed into the clothes that were offered to them by the Luwoda.

Niylah watched as Klark went to her own cot and sat down on it, occasionally scowling at Niylah or at Munroh.

Munroh sat down on her own cot and looked over at Klark. Niylah took note that Munroh didn't look worried or sad.

Munroh just asked in a soft tone, the question that she asked startling Niylah and Klark both, "Clarke? I have a question. Would you like me to hold you while you sleep?"

Clarke looked at Monroe, startled. "Huh?" She asked, snorting before she could help it. "You serious?" She asked the braided girl. "First you say you won't have sex with me, then you want to sleep with me? Make up your fucking mind."

Monroe shook her head. "No sex," She clarified. "Just holding you. If you want to. I can hold you while you sleep if you want. If it would make you feel safer."

Clarke eyed Monroe. She tried to tell herself that such a proposition was ridiculous. She didn't need to fucking be held. She had survived on her own for months after the mountain. And she had brought the mountain to its knees. She didn't need to be held by some girl that thought she knew her.

Clarke was thinking this, all the while trying to ignore how her heart skipped a beat at the suggestion of being held. After all the nightmares she had had, all the times she had gone to sleep, wondering if it would be the last time she'd ever close her eyes, because one new dangerous wrinkle in this world killed her while she slept, after all the exhaustion…

"Why?" Clarke asked Monroe suspiciously.

Monroe smiled. "Just to make you feel safe." Monroe answered. "To help you remember that you're not alone."

Clarke scoffed. "I'm not the one that needs to be reassured." Clarke told her. "Don't you forget, in the last timeline, you would never have survived without me. I'm the one that protects you."

Monroe nodded. "I know." She answered, again, looking infuriatingly unfazed by what Clarke had just said. "But this isn't just about feeling safe. It's letting you know that you have someone here who loves you."

Clarke shuddered before she could help it. Love. She had gone through so much that she should have been immune to such words. But love? Hearing that Monroe loved her…

It was a trick. It had to be a trick. No one meant it when they said that they loved her. Well, no one except her father and Wells.

But still….

Clarke remembered lonely nights. Nights when the words of the people that she thought cared about her had been thrown at her uncaringly. About how horrible she was. About how much of a murderer and monster she was. She had been left alone without a care by them.

The word was out of Clarke's mouth before she could stop it. "Alright." She said, making Monroe lift her head up more, her eyes widening with hope.

"Really?" Monroe asked, a smile starting to spread across her face.

"Don't push it." Clarke grumbled. "And yes, really. I'll sleep next to you. You try anything at all-"

"And I'll let you cut my throat." Monroe said, shrugging, as if suggesting something meant nothing to her. Clarke scoffed and slowly got up from her bed, grabbing her pillow and carrying it with her to Monroe's bed.

She put the pillow down next to Monroe's pillow and sat down on the bed next to Monroe and Monroe watched her, smiling.

Clarke's heart skipped a beat again as Monroe opened up her arms as an invitation. How long had it been before anyone had given her an offer like that? Of supposedly totally unconditional love?

Since her father and Wells had died in the last timeline? As far as she could remember, a really, really long time.

Clarke, before she could help herself, scooted closer to Monroe and placed herself in the braided girl's embrace. Monroe closed her arms around Clarke's body, kissing her forehead.

Clarke felt her heart race again, after the kiss on her forehead. What was the matter with her?

She had been betrayed so many times, had been stabbed in the back so many times, and yet here she was, happily snuggling into Monroe as if they were lovers who had been together for years.

She felt Monroe slowly lower them down to the bed, their heads hitting the pillows, Monroe hugging Clarke tightly as Niylah got up and went to the candles and blew them out, before walking back to her own bed and getting under the blankets and lying down under them.

Clarke huffed out against Monroe's chest, feeling Monroe stroke her right hand down Clarke's hair in reassurance and Clarke felt her skin tingle with warmth.

God damn her, but Clarke…Clarke could feel herself loving the warmth that Monroe was offering her. Monroe was like a blanket of warmth consuming her right now.

Clarke sighed, closing her eyes in content. Wow, she loved this.

From across the room Niylah smiled as she detected Klark calming down and slowly getting to sleep. She closed her eyes and got herself ready to sleep.

Niylah loved Klark and would wait. A few months was nothing. And while a few months might have been ridiculous, Niylah had made a promise. She had sworn not to touch Klark until she was of age. And Klark had suffered too many betrayals for it to be acceptable to ever have yet one more betrayal done to her again.

Even if it was a slight difference in age, Niylah would honor her promise. She would not come near Klark till Klark was of age, and until Klark was sure that she wanted Niylah.

For now, they were going to rest.

Author's note:

So wow, yeah, I don't think I can be sorry for killing Bellamy and the others like that. They got what they deserved. End of story. Flips both middle fingers at Bellamy and any Bellamy fan around.