I know it's been a long time between updates – nearly a year in fact – but I'm back now with the next chapter. Part of the reason it took me so long to get this up was that I went a long time without access to a computer, but mostly it was because I had no idea how to go about writing this chapter. There is very little information on the nightbloods on the show, so I basically created entirely new characters and personalities for each one – except Aden of course. Add to that, weaving these characters into the plot along with Aerrow's development with some important lessons from Lexa on the side, and truthfully the prospect of such complexity was rather daunting.

However, once I knuckled down and got into it, it took on a life of its own and actually turned out to be a bit of a monster, but it was immense fun to write and I hope you enjoy it.

TAKE A LOOK PAST OUR INNOCENCE, TAKE A STEP BACK TO YESTERDAY

WHEN LIFE WOULD MOVE SLOWER, WE WOULD NEVER GROW UP

ALL WE KNEW THAT LOVE WAS FOR WHEN WE'RE OLDER

ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN, SECRETLY IMAGINE

THEY COULD NEVER TEAR US APART, TOO YOUNG TO FALL

"Attention, Nightbloods" Lexa's authoritive voice echoed around the room.

The doors swung open as the Commander glided inside, revealing a large room containing eight beds, a series of wardrobes and small group of children hurriedly scrambling to stand in front of her.

"At ease," she told them calmly, "There are no lessons this morning."

The gathered nightbloods immediately relaxed, before an unassuming looking boy with sandy hair took a small step forward. "Forgive me Heda, but may I ask why you are here then?"

Lexa flicked her gaze to him, and gave him a small smile. He really did miss nothing.

"I have someone that I would like to introduce you to, and likewise you, to they."

"Another Sky Person?" Another boy, taller, with jet black hair asked rather sourly.

Lexa gave him a sideways look, hard enough that he understood her conveyed message of restraint. She paused for a moment before answering. "In a way…" she supplied somewhat vaguely, before stepping aside to reveal-

"Lexa what's-"

Aerrow's question died in his throat as he walked through the door, to find himself face to face with the children – the same ones he had been escorted to the duel with the previous day. His mind raced. Surely these weren't the other nightbloods? They were just kids, barely into their teens. Several looked even younger than that! He hadn't been entirely sure what to expect when Lexa had retrieved him earlier, but it certainly wasn't this.

Before he could get a proper look at any of them, his view was cut off by an angry Lexa. "You will address me as 'Commander', or 'Heda', as we discussed." She reprimanded him firmly.

Aerrow gave no reaction to her harsh tone other than a raised eyebrow – which definitely didn't help improve her mood. "My apologies, Heda" He supplied, nonplussed.

Lexa gave him a look that said she still wasn't happy about his transgression of etiquette, but otherwise remained silent as she turned back to face the rest of the nightbloods. "May I present to you: Aerrow kom Nou Kru. Aerrow, these are my novitiates."

Aerrow could do nothing but stand there awkwardly as the realisation set in on their faces. It seemed as though his reputation preceded him, if their looks of shock, awe and outright fear were anything to go by. He fought back an acute surge of shame, and suddenly found himself wishing the floor would swallow him up.

The black haired boy was the first to speak. "Heda, what's he doing here?" He asked bluntly.

"He is here, Elias," Lexa shot him a glare, "Because he is as you are: A Natblida."

Another round of gasps went up, and Aerrow looked firmly down at his feet.

"But that's impossible! No one from the sky can-" The boy – Elias – began.

"Mind your tongue!" Lexa cut him off, before turning back to Aerrow. "Show them." She told him, in a tone far more gentle than he thought her capable of. It gave him enough reassurance to get his guilt and self-hatred under control, and he forced himself to look the other nightbloods in the eye for the first time.

Without breaking eye contact, he pulled a small dagger from his pocket and ran it down his right palm, not even so much as flinching as the obsidian blood began to drip, and the children's eyes widened a third time.

"I'll leave you to get to know each other." Lexa broke their trance, "I have other matters to attend."

"Commander wait!" Aerrow called hurriedly as she turned to leave. He still hadn't been able to tell her about the massacre…

But he was too late. The doors had already slammed shut, and he had a feeling that they wouldn't be opening again until she returned, leaving him stuck inside the room with the nightbloods, all of whom were multiple years his junior. He wondered how the hell he kept getting himself into situations like this. All he had wanted to do when he left his cell on the Ark was kill Dylan Joyce for heaven's sake!

He turned back around to face them awkwardly.

"Uh… hi…"

Outside, Lexa took not a small amount of satisfaction in closing the door in Aerrow's face and leaving him to fend for himself with her charges. This however faded quickly when she turned back around and found herself face to face with a scowling Titus.

She stared at him long and hard, the bald man giving nothing away. "Something on your mind, Titus?" she said lowly to the Flamekeeper. She had had enough of his disapproval the previous day.

Titus nodded. "This is a mistake." He began.

"So you've said." Lexa cut in, "It doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything!" Titus raised his voice. "No one from the Sky should have the blood, least of all one as undeserving as him. He has murdered dozens of your people, and yet you would have him succeed you?"

Lexa glared at him. "Your point?" she ground out.

Titus lowered his head to look down on her. "You have already let Wanheda influence you too much. Don't start letting him do the same."

"If it weren't for him I could very well have died yesterday!" Lexa snapped, before sighing, "Believe me, that is not an easy fact to admit, but even you cannot deny his skill."

Titus said nothing, his argument died on his tongue. Although he would never admit it, what Lexa spoke of was true. It was unheard of for anyone to be able to defeat a Commander in single combat, yet Aerrow had done so twice now – a fact that Titus despised to no end.

"There is a war coming, Fleimkepa." Lexa spoke quietly, almost resigned, "You and I both know that. The flame whispers it to me at night. And when it arrives, everyone is going to be fighting to have him on their side. If he is on ours, there is a chance we all come out alive."

"And what if he doesn't want to choose a side? You heard him, he doesn't even want to fight-"

"I'm hoping that they-" Lexa looked back at the door at the end of the corridor, "-can change that."

Titus squared his shoulders, and looked her dead in the eye. "I hope you know what you are doing, Heda." He bowed in respect, before walking away.

Lexa watched him go. "So do I…" she whispered to herself, "So do I…"

The nightbloods just stared at him blankly, though he could see the cogs whirring inside their heads, connecting the dots between this new development, and what it could mean for their futures. Lexa hadn't explained it to him yet, but he had an idea that only one nightblood could succeed her as Commander, and knowing the grounders' culture of 'blood must have blood', that could only mean one fate for the rest…

Aerrow shuddered internally at the thought.

For a long time the room was filled with anxious apprehension, with no one really knowing what to do next until the sandy haired boy stepped forward, hand extended. "Ai laik Aden, kom Trikru"

Aerrow was momentarily taken aback by the genuine warmth in the boy's tone and in his brown eyes, and as such it took him a moment to react, grasping the boy's wrist as was tradition. "Aerrow…" he hesitated before adding his 'clan', unsure of how to describe himself.

The other nightbloods however, made no movement.

They all eyed him warily. He knew exactly the reason why. They had heard about him. How he had slaughtered dozens upon dozens of their people with neither hesitation nor mercy. He was unsure if they knew about him being a member of the Qinta, but their body language told him everything. They were terrified they would be next.

His heart sank as the familiar despair welled up in his chest. This was all he would be recognised for now. He had never even met these kids before, and still they thought of him the same as the people of Arkadia did: a murderer. What hurt the most was that it was true. He didn't care for most of the deaths he had caused, but it was the ones he had… Arianna… Sienna… He and Clarke's… those never failed to cut him to shreds.

He was seriously considering bashing the door down and running off to a cave somewhere far, far away when Aden spoke again, this time to the others. "Come on guys, he's one of us now."

The black haired boy folded his arms. "We're just going to accept him? He is from the sky! He is unworthy of carrying our blood!"

"He survived the Commander's blade, Elias!" Aden shot back, "Did you not hear Lexa? He renounced the Sky People! He knows our traditions. More than that, he respects them."

"He has the mark of the Qinta." Another spoke up quietly, a girl with platinum white hair that covered part of her face.

Their eyes were drawn to the tattoo around the outside of Aerrow's eye. Although disguised by the connecting lines, the signature Qinta 'x's were still visible, if one was perceptive enough. Aerrow subconsciously flicked a few loose strands of hair in front of him to cover the marks at their collective intake of breath.

"If you're going to make judgements about me…" Their eyes flew open once more at his demonstration of trigedasleng, "… I'd suggest you seek answers first."

They were silent. Clearly they had not been expecting him to understand their language to the extent he did.

The silence was broken when he drew his swords from their holsters on his back, and they all backed away from him. Elias visibly gulped.

They were stunned then, when the shiny silver weapons fell to the ground with a sharp clatter, having been thrown down by Aerrow. When they looked back up at him, he raised his hands. "You have nothing to fear from me." He said reservedly.

Aden briefly glanced back at the nightbloods, before facing him once more, a new look in his eyes – one of respect. Though he spoke to the others, he kept his eyes fixed on Aerrow. "He seems plenty worthy to me."

And that's what did it.

One by one the nightbloods came forward – albeit still hesitantly – and introduced themselves.

Aden, Aerrow discovered, had been the first nightblood found after Lexa assumed command, and had been training under her for four of his thirteen years. He was quiet, but confident of himself, and seemed to be a natural leader.

There was also Rubika. She was the tallest and oldest of the girls, also at thirteen, with long dark maroon hair that hung in braids down to the small of her back, and piercing emerald eyes that reminded him of Octavia's. She announced herself as hailing from the nomadic Ingranronakru – or Plains Riders.

Nicolas was a stocky boy from the Yujleda, or Broadleaf clan. He had short cut brown hair and tanned skin. The Broadleaf clan were known for their strength – coming from felling enormous redwood trees for housing and trade, and Nicolas was already well developed for his age of twelve.

Elrik was the youngest of the boys – at eleven years. In a way he reminded Aerrow of a smaller Monty, with his Asian looks and jittery demeanour. He hailed from the glowing forest, or Trishanakru.

The girl who had noticed his Qinta markings introduced herself as Kaida, of the Lake People (Podakru). She was easily the most intense of all of them, despite being just eleven years old. Her white hair flowed down to her shoulders and her dull hazel eyes seemed to stare a hole right through him.

Elias was the oldest of them all at fourteen. A lanky boy, he towered over the rest of them, almost matching Aerrow for height despite being four years younger. He hailed from Sangedakru, or the Desert People, and made his distaste for Aerrow even more clear when he grasped his wrist as tightly as he could. Aerrow locked eyes with Elias' dark brown ones. He decided to have a little fun, and applied his Oblivion-enhanced strength. Elias broke the grip immediately, but not before Aerrow spied the beginnings of tears in his eyes.

Last of all was a tiny girl, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Aerrow's breath caught in his throat when he first saw her. Could this have been what his and Sienna's child would have looked like?

His throat dried instantly, and he visibly swayed, causing the girl to flinch and turn away. Aden apologised, and explained that she was just nine years old, and was the newest of all of them, having arrived just the previous year. She came from the elusive Delfikru, so Aden said. He also said how the Fleimkepa frequently punished her for displaying weakness in their training sessions.

Not knowing what else to do, and suddenly filled with a sense of empathy he had once felt for a girl who looked strikingly similar – and whose looks he now shared, Aerrow crouched onto one knee, bringing himself to eye level with her and gently put his hand on her shoulder. "Ai laik Aerrow, kom las Qinta Gonkru" he told her, voice barely louder than a whisper, deliberately changing his introduction.

After some coaxing from Aden, she eventually turned towards him, though she still firmly avoided looking at him. "I know who you are, Naja." She whispered.

Aerrow's eyes widened. None of the others had known about his supposed prophesised name (even if Lexa had told him he was not the subject of said prophecy). How had she?

"What's your name?" he asked shakily in trigedasleng, and finally, she locked her eyes with his.

"My name is Gabbi."

After that it was like the ice had been broken.

The group of nightbloods were still very far from trusting him, but at least the awkwardness had passed. With nothing else to do, they all sat down and began sharing with Aerrow the wisdom that Lexa and the Fleimkepa had imparted over the years, educating him on what it truly meant to be Heda.

From the moment they were born and their parents realised how special they were, they had all been educated in some way of the destiny that lay in front of them. They each knew the responsibility that they held, and they carried it with a seriousness well beyond their years.

When the Fleimkepa's scouts found them, they were brought to Polis, were they were tutored almost every day by either the Fleimkepa, his underlings, or the Commander herself when she was not busy with other duties.

He learnt that there were three core pillars that they were trained to embody as the next Commander: Strength, wisdom and compassion. The last one confused Aerrow. The current Commander hadn't exactly proven herself to be the most compassionate. She had tried running her sword through his chest. Multiple freaking times. But then again, he had never actually seen how she ruled over her own people, so decided to withhold judgement for the time being.

Besides learning the history of their culture and training in the proper etiquette expected of a Commander, they also trained extensively in combat with a wide variety of weapons (explaining how Lexa was able to hold her own against him), as well as battle tactics and working as a team in many different scenarios.

He had no idea how Lexa planned on training him. He knew that he had a long way to go in terms of understanding their culture – particularly their history, and the values of command, not to mention the day to day aspects of ruling the twelve – now thirteen – clans, and he had absolutely no intention of participating in the combat training, though he feared he wouldn't have much choice in the matter.

Truthfully the entire situation was incredibly daunting. He had never wanted to be a leader in the first place, especially not with where he was mentally, but everything had happened so fast that he still hadn't fully processed what he was now. He'd not seen even a glimpse of Clarke since the duel, and she was the one he needed to speak to the most. He got the distinct impression that she was deliberately avoiding him – not that he could blame her.

As time drew on, the nightbloods started warming to him more and more – as what usually happened with children, and thus he was able to learn more about their own individual personalities.

Aden seemed to be the glue that held the group together. He listened to everyone attentively, without judgement or bias, only supplying his own opinion when absolutely necessary. He seemed to be the most centred of all of them.

Elias meanwhile was the opposite. His irrational disdain had faded, but there was still a distinct edge of distrust in his voice. Aerrow realised very quickly that the boy was above all else: Ambitious. He wanted to become Commander. That did not mean he was beyond compassion, and once he relaxed he talked rather fondly with his fellow nightbloods. He seemed to be closest to Elrik, and ruffled his hair on multiple occasions – much to the younger boy's annoyance.

Nicolas was a boy of few words, speaking only in muted grunts and gestures, as was the nature of his people, while Elrik was naturally quite nervous and jittery, and rushed when he spoke. It was clear, however, that he was very intelligent and had a deep understanding of the responsibilities that may one day fall on him, and this was something he took very seriously.

Of the girls, Rubica quickly became the one he valued the most. She was softly spoken, and very caring, but that did not mean she let the boys walk over her. She possessed a fiery streak that would have made Raven proud and stood up to Elias more than once (it seemed she had something of a rivalry with him). What stood out to him most of all though was how protective she was of her fellow nightbloods.

Kaida also did not speak very often, and everything the white haired girl said was sharp and to the point. She was quick witted and intense, but everything she said was well thought out and clearly and concisely articulated.

Throughout the entire time, little Gabbi did not say another word. She just sat contentedly in Rubika's lap, head buried in the older girl's red hair. Aerrow wondered if it was just him, or if she was always like that. Aden had implied it, but it seemed strange that one so diminutive was expected to one day take leadership. The nightbloods didn't seem to care – they all clearly adored the little girl.

Eventually, they gained enough courage to start asking him questions of their own. Aden wanted to know what life was like in the sky, while Elias asked how he had gotten to be such a skilled fighter. Kaida seemed very interested in his Qinta markings, and Rubika's gaze was drawn to the edges of a scar, just visible past the neckline of his shirt. He noticed too late, and quickly covered it up, but after that she just stared at him… trying to figure him out.

The entire time, he remained extremely reserved, only giving just enough information to satisfy them, and in some cases outright lying or feigning not knowing the answers for several particularly sensitive topics. He wished Cleo were with him, or better still, Octavia. Even Clarke or Lexa, just someone he knew that he could look to for backup. He had stared down armies in the past, but here, now, he had never felt so incredibly isolated and alone.

Looking around, observing their interactions, it suddenly hit him. They were like a big family. So harmonious and intimate, they were like one cohesive unit. Just like…

Aerrow looked down in shame. They were just like the Qinta had been. And he had slaughtered them… And now he was intruding on this one. He didn't belong here, he didn't fit in, and it was clear he had a long way to go before he earned their trust. He hated himself. Why was he here? Why was he even still alive?

His thoughts and emotions had been running rampant ever since he had been shot, and he found it increasingly difficult to get them under control, as if his own mind was rebelling against him. He would get sudden and unexpected surges of anxiety, coupled with roaring headaches, deep within his skull that felt like his mind was trying to separate in two. Time seemed to speed up and slow down, and frankly at times he felt like he was detached from reality itself.

He did his best to hide it, but he had a gnawing feeling of deep, deep fear in his chest that something had gone horribly wrong when that bullet had hit his forehead… Something permanent…

Octavia wanted to vomit.

The stench of three hundred decaying corpses littering the battlefield was nauseating, and the sight of the bullet riddled bodies, the ground stained red as far as the eye could see was sickening.

Her fury grew with each body she passed by, but she spared no time to honour their lives.

No, there was one body in particular she was looking for.

Her body moving on autopilot, she was trapped inside her own head, flashing back to the noise of the gunshot… seeing her own flesh and blood stalk back through the gate, covered from head to toe in blood that was not his own… and finally, worst of all, her fists pounding, muted, against her brother's chest, her anguished cries ringing over and over. "You killed him!"… "You killed him…"

She had been locked up by the newly elected Chancellor Pike not long after – a precaution, he said, in case she decided to attack anyone. She had remained in a cell for three days, alone and shivering in heartbroken misery before Kane eventually got her bailed out, only to learn that Lincoln had since been incarcerated himself with a group of grounders that had been receiving medical treatment. Anger raw and boiling in her chest, she had immediately snuck out against Kane's pleas in order to inspect the scene of the massacre. Deep down, she knew she would only find more pain, but she needed to know… she needed to see…

Her heart rose in her mouth as she approached the rise in the ground where she had seen Aerrow reappear from the trees. Where she had seen him confront Bellamy, where all her feelings suddenly surged forwards once more. Where she had seen him fall…

She did not want to believe it, that her closest friend was dead. After all, he had survived seemingly impossible odds before. A gunshot straight to the head though? No one walked away from that…

Her eyes widened then, when she came to the exact patch of grass where Aerrow had dropped and found…

Nothing.

No body, no swords, no Cleo. All there was to indicate someone had been here was a small puddle of dried, black liquid, far too dark to be blood. Her mind raced with the implications. A brief flash of hope that he had somehow survived was quickly tempered by reality. She wondered what could have happened to his body. Kane had informed her of everything that had happened since that fateful night, so she knew Aerrow had not been brought back to the camp, which could only mean one thing: someone else had taken his body.

She had no idea what to think of that.

She never got the chance to, for it was at that moment that the butt end of a pike was slammed ruthlessly against the back of her head.

Octavia dropped like a stone, stunned and concussed by the blow.

Inflicted by a shadow of a man who had snuck up behind her, unseen by anyone and taking advantage of her distraction. He leered over the girl's prone body. Using the bodies of his own fallen warriors as cover to disguise himself from the Skaikru scouts, he finally went through with his plan.

Seeing stars, Octavia heard a gruff voice. "Now you will face true justice."

She rolled numbly over onto her back and caught just a glimpse of long, dark hair, and a scraggly beard before her world faded into darkness.