Hope you guys are ready, because this is a BIG chapter, one of the very first I envisaged when I started planning this story.

I'm definitely not one to bring politics into my writing, but this one goes out to every man, woman and sadly child that has sacrificed their lives in servitude of their country.


FOUGHT YOUR FIGHT, BOUGHT YOUR LIE

AND IN RETURN I LOST MY LIFE.

WHAT PURPOSE DOES THIS SERVE?

WHAT PURPOSE DID I SERVE?

Aerrow staggered backwards, mouth open in pure shock. He felt like he'd just been slapped.

He couldn't believe it. Lexa was dead? How?

So many questions were racing around his mind, it was impossible to keep up with them.

He didn't grasp the full reality of the situation until he looked around and saw the abstract horror on each and every one of the nightbloods' faces. Then realisation set in and his face drained of colour.

With Lexa gone, a new Commander was needed.

He glanced at each and every one of his fellow novitiates. All of them had the exact same ashen look. Terrified of the cold, hard, inescapable truth that now settled over them:

They were going to have to kill each other…

Aerrow sent each of them a look of utmost sorrow and regret. He hadn't forgotten the promise he had made them… but they were just kids! How on earth were they supposed to deal with slaughtering their own family?

Part of him refused to believe the truth, refused to believe Lexa was gone. He'd literally only seen her a few hours ago! But the look on the Flamekeeper's face told him everything.

"How?" he rasped eventually.

A tear dripped from Titus's eye. "It doesn't matter." He shook his head. "Prepare yourselves, the Conclave has begun." He finished solemnly, before turning and closing the door.

Aerrow heard the lock slam down after him, sealing them inside – sealing them to their fate.

He turned around to face the others.

He was unable to find any words to console the desolate looks on their faces. Time had run out for them.

For the first time in a long, long while, Aerrow had no idea what to do.

An entire day passed, and none of them said a word.

They simply huddled together in silence, clutching each other desperately, as if trying to commit the sensation of being together to a memory none of them wanted to forget. It was like every bit of life and energy had been sucked out of them with Lexa's passing.

Aerrow kept entirely to himself - a coping mechanism he'd developed a long time ago, to distance himself from everyone. He thought it best to allow them their time together, and not get close himself. It would be all the more painful for them when they killed him…

Eventually, as the dropping sun kissed the horizon, Titus returned.

The nightbloods were assembled instantly, all trembling and stiff as boards as Titus led them upwards. Not a word was said as the primitive escalator rose, nor during the walk through the corridors towards the throne room.

The doors were pushed open, revealing it had been radically changed. Gone was the wooden throne and the chairs of the ambassadors. Instead, they had all been pushed to the edges of the room, making way for a dim line of candles that lit the walls in faint, sorrowful shadows.

And there… at its centre… was Lexa.

Her body was covered by a white sheet and lain upon a ceremonial table, surrounded by rose petals and more candles.

Aerrow felt his mouth dry instantly. It hadn't seemed real until this moment, but here, now, seeing her like this: unbreathing, unblinking. Dead. It hit him harder than he'd cared to admit…

She'd always seemed so invincible, so… entirely unafraid of death. The way she spoke, the way she fought, the way she led. She had simply exuded this aura of control and it was hard for him to simply grasp that she was gone. It was clear that the other nightbloods felt the same way.

But gone she was…

Titus motioned for them to take a seat on the stools positioned in front of her body, which they did without question before looking up at the Flamekeeper.

"You all know what to do." He said quietly. He turned and walked away, an action which confused Aerrow. He'd have thought the man would be here for this. He had no idea what they were supposed to do, but thankfully Aden stood first and took the lead.

The boy moved slowly towards Lexa's body, taking a moment just to look at the outline of her face behind the sheet – likely saying a silent goodbye – before grabbing a handful of fine, red sand and sprinkling it atop the sheet.

"May the Spirit of the Commander choose me." he saidquietly – Reverently – before returning to his seat.

Aerrow watched on as one by one, his fellow nightbloods got to their feet and repeated the process. The experience for all of them appeared cathartic to an extent, as if the ritual allowed them to release their emotions, and accept their fate. Each nightblood returned to their seat with a face of stone until eventually, it was Aerrow's turn.

He rose and walked slowly over, taking a moment to look at the body of the woman who… well… she'd been many things…

She'd called for his head, had done her best to kill him in combat and left Octavia and the others to die in the battle of Mount Weather, but she'd also taken him on as a nightblood when she very easily could have called for his death. Instead of hostility, she'd treated him with respect and kindness. Most importantly, she'd understood him, in a way very few others did. She'd leant an ear to him, and offered precious advice when he had desperately needed it.

In a very short space of time, she had become more than a mentor. She had become a friend.

He sprinkled the sand over her body and repeated the words the others had said, adding a silent 'thank you' at the end.

It was then that the door to the room opened once more and Titus walked back in. He was trailed by none other than Clarke.

Everyone turned to look at her, none more surprised at her appearance than Aerrow. She cared little for the looks she got though, instead, she spied Aden and made a beeline straight towards him.

"Would you like a moment with her?" Aden asked as he stood.

Clarke regarded him for a moment, before glancing at Lexa's body. It was all she could do to keep her chin from trembling. "No…" she got out, "I'm here to see you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." She confirmed, "You promised me that you would support my people-"

"If Heda's spirit chooses me."

"Will you still?" she practically begged.

Aden looked at her for a moment, before offering a slow, firm nod. "We all will." He gestured to the other nightbloods. "Lexa made each of us vow it."

He paused. "Each of us except him." He looked pointedly over at Aerrow, who was still standing beside Lexa's body, taking in the scene with a guarded look on his face.

Clarke locked eyes with him for what seemed like an eternity, completely unable to discern the emotions on his face. She would have thought it obvious that, firstly, he would be victorious in the Conclave – he'd beaten Lexa for heaven's sake! – and that he too would stand with Skaikru as the Commander, but that was before everything had changed between them…

Now… she didn't know what to believe.

After a long, long time, she squared her jaw, and walked over to him. "I need to talk to you, privately." Her voice was stiff and unyielding.

For his part, Aerrow simply raised his eyebrows slightly as his face hardened. "What about?"

Her reply was cut off when suddenly, the door crashed open a final time, and in walked someone she had completely forgotten about.

Aerrow looked up and saw an unfamiliar girl stride in imperiously, looking to all intents and purposes like she owned the room. She held her head high and looked down on everyone in the room. She had a mean, cruel look on her face.

The ornate scars on her face told him everything. She was from the Ice Nation. A nightblood from the Ice Nation. He felt his spine turn to ice. This changed everything…

"Ontari…" he heard Clarke breathe beside him, not a small amount of fear in her voice.

The new arrival evidently heard her, for she whipped her head around, and the moment she laid eyes on Clarke, her face twisted with rage. "You…" she hissed.

She drew a knife and charged towards Clarke, but Aden was faster. He moved between them and intercepted Ontari's knife hand, deflecting her incoming strike, before he dropped to his heel and span around, attempting to trip her over.

Ontari though saw the move coming and jumped over Aden's foot before lashing out with a kick of her own, striking Aden's head and knocking the boy clear.

She wasted no time in resuming her attack on Clarke. She kicked the blonde hard in her stomach, sending her to the ground, before kneeling astride her and making to bring the knife down. She was halted though by an extraordinarily strong grip on her wrist.

Eyes alight with rage, she looked up, only to pause when she came face to face with equally furious, electric blue eyes.

Aerrow glared down at her. "Don't even think about it."

For a moment, it looked as if Ontari was ready to continue the fight, when a final person walked in.

"Put the knife down Ontari." Came the low, gravelly voice of Roan – the newly crowned King of Azgeda.

"Your mother is dead because of her!" Ontari protested.

"You will obey your King." Roan was unmoved.

Ontari shifted her glare from him, back to Aerrow, then to Clarke, who was still panting on the ground. Wisely, she opened her hand and Titus instantly stripped her of her weapon.

"Another unfortunate fact we have her to thank for…" she spat as she stood back up and yanked her wrist out of Aerrow's grasp, fixing both he and Clarke with a hateful glare. "No matter… when I am Heda, and the King bows to me… You and every last member of Skaikru will die."

"That's enough!" Titus's booming voice silenced everybody. "There is to be no bloodshed tonight!"

He looked around at the nightbloods in the various positions. "You will return to your rooms at once! The Conclave begins at dawn. I suggest you all get some sleep…"

With a final glare, Ontari turned and sauntered back out of the room behind Roan. The other nightbloods watched her go, their faces all pale with fear. None of them had been expecting her to show up, and now none of them knew what their fate would be…

Reluctantly, they bowed their heads, and Rubika helped Aden to his feet before they too exited.

Aerrow made to follow them, but was stopped by a hand around his bicep.

He turned around and locked eyes with Clarke. She looked more than afraid. She looked positively desperate.

"We need to talk. Now."

"What's this all about?" Aerrow asked cautiously as Clarke led him into one of the adjacent rooms.

The door closed ominously behind them, leaving them alone together. For the first time in over a month.

It was only when Clarke didn't immediately answer that he noticed how stiff she was, aside from the tremors that occasionally wracked her shoulders. She was barely holding herself together.

"How did she die?" He asked softly.

Clarke looked down for a long time. She sniffed back tears before raising her head.

"Titus shot her." Her voice was low, haunted.

"What-"

"He was aiming for me… he wanted to kill me, and frame a rogue Arkadian guard, but-"

She cut herself off as her emotions overwhelmed her, and she simply lost the ability to speak. It was then that Aerrow realised: She and Lexa had been together. Together.

He reached an arm out to her, resting his hand gently on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

The moment his skin touched hers however, she flinched and jumped away. "Don't touch me!" she said harshly.

Aerrow felt his heart sink. After all they had been through together, he'd at least wanted to try and comfort her. He knew what it was like to lose a loved one after all, but it seemed even that was too much for her, and he forced himself to reign in his own dejection.

"I'm sorry, Clarke, I really am…" he tried, before pausing as he took a deep breath. "What is it you want from me?"

Clarke finally faced him at his words, her face suddenly hard and unreadable. "I need to know you'll stand by us when you win."

Aerrow narrowed his eyes. "When I win what?"

"The Conclave of course! You and I both know you're the best fighter here. We need to make sure Ontari doesn't win!"

Aerrow stilled at her words. He stared at her long and hard, suddenly filled with something he'd never felt for her: A deep seeded, dull anger at her words.

"Clarke I'm not going to win anything." He said quietly after a moment.

Clarke's eyes widened, then narrowed. "What?"

Aerrow shook his head. "Whoever wins the Conclave tomorrow, it won't be me."

"But-"

"I've killed enough people, Clarke." His voice was firm, yet resigned. Filled with sadness.

"Then make sure Aden wins!" She hissed at him through clenched teeth, evidently not caring to understand what he was trying to convey. "I don't care who takes Command, as long as it isn't Ontari!"

"And what do you want me to do about it Clarke?" Aerrow raised his voice, holding his arms out to his sides in exasperation. "I have no control over what happens tomorrow. I have no idea who is going to fight who, all I know is that I've killed two families already…" he fixed her with a sad look, "I'm not going to kill a third…"

Clarke could only stare at him, barely contained anger boiling under her skin. Her eyes narrowed into a glare. "So now of all times is when you choose to grow a conscience?" she said, voice now dripping with venom.

He gave no reply, just looked away.

"Or are you just afraid you'll fail again?"

Aerrow's head whipped up at her words. She watched as his eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched.

"What?" he growled, in a voice so low and dangerous that she instantly felt a stab of regret. She had gone too far.

He stalked towards her slowly. Menacingly. "You listen to me, very carefully Clarke. I know what you've been through, I know what I did to you, but don't you dare insinuate that you know what it's like to be me. Ever."

"I do!" she fired back. "I lost my father! My baby! I just watched someone I love die!"

"Would you rather Titus strung you up and sliced you open beforehand!" Aerrow exploded. "Would you rather watch Lexa writhe in agony as she was destroyed from the inside by snake venom? Or would you rather he take her DNA and TURN YOU INTO HER!"

Clarke was stunned silent, completely unable to respond.

This was a side of Aerrow she'd never seen before. She'd seen him angry, sure, in the heat of battle, but never like this. She suddenly found herself feeling very nervous as years upon years of suppressed pain, grief and rage was suddenly released from his internal shackles.

He locked his eyes on hers, and dropped his voice. "How many times have I saved you, Clarke? I saved you from the Panther, the Reapers, the Pauna, the Sniper, the list goes on…"

His hands were clenched tightly by his side, and a throbbing vein threatened to burst from his forehead. "It is only because of me that you're alive today. Ever since we landed you've let me fight your battles for you, or forced me to, while you sat back and did nothing. I've gone to hell and back for you, Clarke. I've watched people I love die for you, and what did you do in return for them?"

"I didn't-"

"I told you, right from the start, that you could be like me too, if you wanted to be. Anyone could be me if they're determined enough, but you chose not to. You chose the easy route. When Sienna and I fought the grounders at the drop ship, where were you?"

"I was setting the rockets to fire!"

"YOU WERE INSIDE!" He roared. His chest was heaving, his eyes bloodshot. He was barely keeping control. "Anyone could have helped Raven prime those rockets, but you decided to stay safe, while the rest of us fought for their lives. You're nothing but a hypocrite, Clarke. You dare call me a coward when your own hands don't even have any blood on them."

"I was going to irradiate Mount Weather!" she shouted back at him, finally snapping at his accusations.

"But you didn't!" Aerrow shut her down. "Oblivion beat you to it, then Octavia defeated them, yet you've allowed the grounders to believe it was you all along. Why?"

"I… I-" Clarke stuttered, trying to find an answer.

"I'll tell you why, because it was to your advantage."

"I had them hunting me!"

"So why didn't you say anything?" Aerrow demanded, "Why didn't you tell them the truth? Wanheda." He spat.

Water building in her eyes, Clarke clamped her mouth shut. She didn't want to voice it, didn't want to admit it, but she knew Aerrow had found her out.

He held his glare. "Because it suited you, because it gave you the power you needed to enact your will on everyone else. And now here you are, still trying to control everyone, still sacrificing everyone. You come to me asking – no, demanding I slaughter those children just to save your own damn skin!"

"I'M TRYING TO STOP A WAR!"

"SO DO IT YOURSELF!" He yelled over her. "FIGHT IN THE CONCLAVE, BECOME THE COMMANDER, RULE OVER EVERYONE!"

"YOU KNOW I CAN'T!"

"EXACTLY!" Aerrow took several deep, heaving breaths in attempt to calm himself, before dropping his voice to an ice cold growl. "Because you don't have the blood, the respect, nor the authority to have any influence whatsoever on what happens tomorrow, so I'm only going to say this once: Stop trying to control everyone."

Clarke wiped the building tears from her eyes. "So you would have Ontari win?" she choked out. "Have her wipe all of us out?"

Aerrow groaned in disgust as he turned away and ran both hands through his hair. "Jesus Clarke, have you ever stopped for just one second to consider why they hate us?"

"Because they're savages!" she hissed, "That's what they do!"

Aerrow folded his arms. "Was Lexa a savage?" he raised with a raised eyebrow, "Was she a mindless barbarian?"

It was a cruel thing to say, and Clarke visibly staggered. "No…"

"Yet she still wanted us gone." Aerrow continued, "Because of YOU!" he jammed his finger into her chest.

He could see tears running freely down her cheeks by now, but he was totally uncaring of how he was making her feel. This had been coming for a long time, long before they'd split apart. This had been going on since they'd first landed, their clash in ideals. They were like two volatile chemicals slowly mixing. And now in an instant, everything had gone boom.

She backed away from him as he stalked towards her, until her back was pressed firmly against the wall of the room, but still he kept coming, only stopping when his face was within inches of her own.

"We came down here, into their home, and you tried to force your beliefs onto them."

"Are you seriously saying that war is better than peace?" she found her voice.

"That's not the point, Clarke!" he backed away a few steps. "Look around you, this is not our home! It's theirs! Our ways mean nothing to them Clarke, not down here. They were here before us, so we play by their rules."

"Their rules are wrong!" Clarke raised her voice. "When in history has anyone benefitted from war? It's their ways that are making those kids kill each other tomorrow!"

The tension in the room was building second by second. Something was eventually going to give.

"Look where 'Blood must not have blood' has got you!" Aerrow shouted back wildly as he raised his finger up to the roof. "The woman you loved is lying up there, dead, because of you! Your delusion of peace is what killed Lexa!"

"AND YOUR BLOODLUST FOR WAR IS WHAT KILLED SIENNA!" Clarke screamed through her tears.

She was angry now. Angry at him for everything he had done to her, for cornering her and making her feel so incredibly tiny. Angry at him for having the nerve to judge her, when he himself was just as guilty.

Now it was Aerrow's turn to be silenced. He staggered backwards, struggling for breath, as if his entire chest had just caved in. He blinked rapidly, trying to stem the tears that instantly built.

Clarke stormed over and forcefully shoved him away. "YOU KILLED OUR BABY!" she sobbed desperately.

Aerrow felt tears of his own flowing at the returning memories. "And I will live with that for the rest of my life…" his voice was hoarse from yelling, and full of grief, "Do you think I wanted to-"

He cut himself off as something suddenly lodged in his mind, something that, in all the weeks he'd spent apart from her, he'd never even considered. Until now.

"How could you even get pregnant in the first place?" he rasped, squinting through his tears. "Sienna I can understand… with- with Oblivion and… Subject X… But you?..." he trailed off as his chin began trembling uncontrollably and a fresh round of sobs took over.

Clarke bit her lip and looked down. She was silent for a long, long time before she spoke. "My mother never gave me an implant…" she said distantly, "I don't know why… and I-" she cut herself off and took a deep breath. "After Mount Weather… I just wanted to start over… I just wanted a family. Was that too much to ask?" she told him weakly

Aerrow raised his eyebrows. "So you lied to me?" His voice was so small she barely heard it. She turned to look at him with blurred, watery eyes.

Aerrow didn't know what to feel. He just felt empty, completely drained from the events that had just transpired. He leaned back against the wall and sank to the floor, not trusting his legs to support him any longer.

Eventually, he found the strength to raise his head and look at her. "I remember a time when we promised each other we'd never do that…" he sniffed miserably.

Clarke looked down on him, eyes cold and hard as she stood over him. "Well I learnt from the best, didn't I?" she spat

Aerrow shook his head and looked away. He had no more fight to offer.

"You are the worst, Aerrow." She hissed at him. "You are the most selfish, cynical and pathetic person I know. I remember a time when I thought you loved me, but I was wrong. Because you don't love anyone. You don't care about anyone. You just live in your own little world, poisoning everything and everyone you touch. You were happy to slaughter innocent people on the Ark, at the Drop Ship, on the ground. You killed an entire village, wiped them from existence without so much as blinking. And here, now, when the people you claim to care about need you the most, you run away. You're a coward, Aerrow – No you're worse. You're a disease."

By now Aerrow's head was buried in his hands, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed uncontrollably while she exposed all his pain and grief and guilt and cut him to shreds.

Weakly, he raised his head a final time, looking at her through the matted, wild hair that had fallen in front of his face and whispered brokenly.

"Fuck you, Clarke."

Clarke shook her head in disgust. "No, Aerrow, fuck you. When you die tomorrow, I hope you die knowing you've condemned us all to join you…"

With no more words left for him, the blonde shook her head and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.

He wondered if it would be the last time he would ever see her again.

Back in the Nightbloods' room, the seven children all gathered around each other in what would be their final night together.

Once more, they had dragged their mattresses onto the ground and were huddled together tightly, fully intent on savouring their final hours with each other.

In the middle this time was Gabbi.

The little girl had been distraught ever since they had returned, crying and whimpering uncontrollably, and no one could work out why. They'd all known this time would eventually come and they had prepared themselves accordingly. The Conclave might have fallen upon them far too soon for their liking but even so, Gabbi's reaction was distressing to say the least.

The other two girls hugged her tightly on either side, Rubika stroking her hair in the way the blonde used to love so much "Gabbi… what's wrong?" she whispered.

Cleo was curled next to her, and Gabbi latched onto the big Lizard's soft body, cradling it close to her chest – though being gentle enough to not hurt the lizard as she sobbed.

"I want Aerrow…"

Rubika looked up, and locked eyes with Aden in an uneasy glance. None of them had seen him since returning.

They all were wondering where he was and what he was going to do the next day. They hadn't forgotten his promise either, and even though he was by far the newest member of their little family, they now considered him as much a part of it as anyone else.

Aden sighed. "I'll go find him." He promised Gabbi, squeezing her shoulder gently, before getting to his feet and sneaking quietly out of the room. Cleo scampered after him, tongue flicking rapidly.

A few minutes later, they heard the door open once more and they all turned, expecting to see Aerrow and Aden.

Instead, they froze.

It took a long time for Aden to find his wayward friend. He'd had to search much of the tower, all without being spotted by Titus's sentries.

Eventually, he found him on the second to top floor, where he hadn't moved since his yelling match with Clarke.

Aden stood in the doorway, watching as the elder nightblood stood propped up against the open window, staring out into the night. His long blonde hair blew gently in the breeze.

Slowly, he moved to stand next to him.

"What are we, Aden?" Aerrow spoke up miserably when he noticed the boy's presence alongside him. "Why do we hate each other so much? Why do we do such horrible things to others just to satisfy our own egos?"

He turned to look at the younger boy, and Aden saw water still fresh in his eyes. "I can't do this anymore. I can't-" he trailed off as he bowed his head.

After a long, long moment of silence, Aden spoke. "If you hate things so much… then change them." He said simply.

"No." Aerrow denied quickly, before switching to trigedasleng. "My fight is over."

Cleo crawled onto his shoulder as he flicked his eyes to meet Aden's. "You know something Aden, you've been one of the best friends I've ever had. You're a much better, much wiser person than me. I promise you that if I face Ontari, I will kill her, but never will I strike any of you down. Just promise me in return, that when the time comes, you do what you were put on this Earth to do."

Aden opened his mouth, but no words came out. Truthfully he had no idea how to respond to Aerrow's words.

"I'm not very old…" he said eventually, "But one thing I've learnt – one thing that Lexa taught me – is that no matter how many people you lose, you will find more. While it can never replace the old one, you can make a new family with your friends."

Aerrow looked at him sadly. "I wish I saw the world as you do… I'm ready to die tomorrow, nothing will change that."

"What about the friends you'll leave behind? What about that girl you protected on Ascension Day?"

Aerrow looked down, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Octavia… She was the one thing tethering him to this world.

"If you ever see her again… Tell her…" he choked out. "Tell her I lo-"

He was interrupted though when the same horn from two nights ago – long, low and sombre – was sounded.

His sentence unfinished, Aerrow locked eyes with Aden. "What was that?"

Aden looked just as confused. "I don't know… maybe they're assembling us? Usually they wouldn't blow it until the conclusion of the conclave…"

Aerrow frowned at him, then realisation dawned, and his eyes shot open in horror.

"We have to get back to the others!" he told Aden quickly, grabbing the boy's shoulders before racing out of the room.

They ran side by side, sprinting through the corridors in a frantic rush to get back to the other nightbloods. They leapt down the steps, hurling multiple at a time.

Aerrow felt his heart pumping in dread, his breaths fast and laboured as they skidded to a halt in front of the door.

After exchanging a quick glance at each other, Aerrow pushed open the doors.

He froze immediately.

Beside him, Aden hunched over and vomited explosively.

Led by Titus after her failed attempt to steal the flame – and thus prevent an ascension – Clarke found herself back in the throne room.

She was not alone.

All of the ambassadors, plus dozens of guards and generals were all gathered too, each as confused as the next as to why the victory horn had been sounded.

Clarke strained her eyes forward, looking through the crowd. She could see someone sitting on Lexa's throne. Before she could get a good look at who it was, a hand clamped itself over her mouth. She span, wide eyed, to find Roan standing in front of her, a finger raised to his lips.

Meanwhile, Titus pushed his way to the front. When he saw who it was on the throne, he stopped in his tracks. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Clarke finally laid eyes on the person on the throne too. When she did, her eyes widened, and her face drained of colour. "No…" she whispered.

There, sitting casually on the ancient wooden throne of the Commanders, face covered in black blood and a victorious smirk upon her face, was Ontari.

At Titus's question, she smiled (smiled!) at the Flamekeeper, before leaning forward and pulling something from a large hessian bag at her feet.

The entire crowd gasped as one when she held it up.

It was a human head.

The severed head of a little blonde girl.

The bodies were everywhere, strewn across the entire floor of the room.

Some held weapons in their unmoving hands, others were totally defenceless.

Blood was everywhere, on the walls on the floor. Their white mattresses, combined so innocently in the centre of the room, were now bathed in fresh, horrific black blood.

The bodies all had one thing in common.

They had all been decapitated.

It was a truly disgusting sight. Ragged strips of flesh hung from the corpses open necks, the twin pipes of the oesophagus and windpipe open to the air. Black blood still dribbled gruesomely from the severed arteries.

Aerrow grimaced at the sight, barely breathing as his eyes glazed over in pure horror. "Mother of God…" he breathed.

"Who could do this?" Aden cried beside him.

Aerrow turned to look at him, fresh tears of his own beginning to leak. Another family… gone…

"I know exactly who…" he answered gravely. "Someone who wanted to win."

He heard Aden's breathing deepen furiously, and the boy clenched his fists. "I'm going to kill them…" he said harshly. "Whoever it was… they die tonight."

Aerrow met his gaze, momentarily shocked at the raw fury burning alight in his usually calm, soft eyes. Then he sent one back, and gave a single, firm nod. "We fight as one." He growled. "Ogeda."

Aden nodded back. "Ogeda."

Then they grabbed their swords and ran out of the room

Clarke clamped her hand over her mouth to prevent her vomit coming out.

Gabbi's blank, lifeless eyes stared at her hauntingly, as droplets of blood fell from the strips of flesh where the rest of her body used to be, splattering on the floor at Ontari's feet.

Ontari threw the head uncaringly at Titus's feet, before kicking the bag over. Tears ran from Titus's eyes as he watched the heads of his students roll out one at a time. Rubika… Elias… Kaida… Nicolas… Elrik…

He could only stare at Ontari in apoplectic agony.

The Azgeda nightblood simply smirked back at him. "I win." She said triumphantly. "I'm the last-"

"Not yet!" a loud voice called from the other side of the room.

Everyone turned as one as the doors slammed open and in walked Aerrow and Aden, side by side with swords gripped in their hands and determined steel in their eyes.

More gasps went up among the crowd as they parted, leaving the last nightbloods in direct sight of each other.

"You've won nothing Ontari!" Aerrow yelled at her.

"More than one of us still breathes" Aden challenged. "This conclave is not over."

Ontari's smirk disappeared in an instant as her features hardened and her eyes darkened. Her hand went to her sword and she drew it slowly. Black blood still covered from its wicked blade.

"It will be soon enough." she growled, holding her sword in front of her in preparation.

Aerrow leant down and whispered in Aden's ear. "You take the right."

But it was too late. With a venomous snarl, Aden span his sword in his hand and charged at Ontari.

"Aden wait!" Aerrow called, running after him as he engaged Ontari in a furious clash of steel.

Aerrow made to join him, leading with a perfectly timed left hand swing, right at Ontari's neck, only for his sword to come to a sudden, jarring halt.

Aerrow blanched at the appearance of another sword. He turned and followed the arm of its user, to find himself looking into the ice cold eyes of Roan.

"You will have no interference in this battle." He growled at him.

His emotions running too wild to realise that Roan didn't know he was a nightblood, he simply forced his sword away and swung with his other hand, which the King blocked in return.

The gathered ambassadors stood well clear, pressed up against the walls as two separate battles now took up the centre of the room.

Aden sung his sword madly, with no coordination or timing. He was completely taken over by his rage at what his opponent had done to his family.

Rubika… with her kind face and gentle words, who he had explored the markets with so many times, shared so many sweetcakes with…

Elrik… so shy and jittery… but with a heart of gold and true, raging loyalty…

Nicolas… strong and unmoving, like a rock. Aden had lost count of how many times Nicolas had helped him lift a particularly heavy object, or open a tightly sealed jar…

Kaida… sharper than any blade he had ever wielded, and just as deadly. She may have made herself out to be emotionless, but he was a much a part of their family as any of them…

Elias… the older brother. The boy had at first outshone them all in combat, but he didn't hesitate to help them out with learning a new technique, or teaching them a more solid defensive stance. He could have killed them at any time, but instead he chose to help them…

And finally, Gabbi… little Gabbi… the darling angel of the group. She barely said a word, hardly ever played with the others, or escaped to the markets, but she'd become the very centre of them all, brought them all together. She'd deserved so much better…

They all had.

Their faces flashed in Aden's mind, feeding his anger, fuelling his strikes as he attacked Ontari.

The girl was more than up to the challenge however. She was older, bigger, stronger. While Aden was all rage, she was steely focussed, letting the boy tire himself out, weathering the storm before slowly, slowly but surely pressing her advantage.

Aerrow meanwhile had Roan on the back foot, the King was retreating from every lightning fast swing of his deadly coandite blades. Just as in his fight with Lexa, however, Roan's defense was all but impenetrable, his sword a fortress around his body that, try as he might, Aerrow simply couldn't break through.

He tried everything. He tried his signature Qinta moves, leaping into the air and leading with his feet, twirling his swords around his body in a whirlwind of attacks. He tried discarding one sword and surprising Roan by retrieving it suddenly a few attacks later.

He even ducked and gave Cleo a clear leap to attack the King. She leapt at him, claws outstretched, mouth open and hissing viciously, only for Roan to block her with his armoured forearm, before tossing her aside, sending her flying into the crowd with a whimper.

It was when Roan began landing some attacks of his own, advancing himself did Aerrow realise something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

He was not fighting with anywhere near the skill level he normally did.

Instead, he was breathing heavily, his swings sloppy and laboured with fatigue. His chest burned and his head throbbed, blurring his vision.

It was as if Oblivion's gene splicing had totally abandoned him, and now he was at Roan's mercy.

Not again! His mind screamed as he ducked Roan's sword. It had been happening ever since he had been shot, even longer in fact. It seemed as though the darker his blood got, the further his body degenerated. It hadn't been too bad at first, merely a slight fatigue. Now though… Now he was in big trouble.

Wheezing, he staggered back, doing everything he could to keep attacking his opponent. He had to get back to Aden! He could hear the boy struggling behind him. He couldn't let Ontari kill him!

In a last ditch effort, he gathered every ounce of energy he had and launched himself at Roan, spinning his swords rapidly around his body, aiming first at the King's head, then at his legs, then finally at his body.

It didn't work.

An attack that had killed dozens, now fell pathetically short, not even coming close to slicing his opponent.

The King punished him dearly, slamming his sword into Aerrow's, knocking it from the teenager's weakened grip easily, before lashing out with a kick of his own, sending Aerrow flying across the room, now weaponless.

Groaning in agony, Aerrow forced himself to get up, pushing himself up weakly with his arms. His exhausted muscles simply wouldn't comply though, and he slumped back down to the ground.

Roan stood contemptuously over him. "You've got teeth like a Wolf, Naja." He taunted, "But you cry like a Sheep."

It was then that Aerrow heard a horrific wail, and he flipped his head to his other side just as Ontari carved right through Aden's wrist, sending his blade – identical to Lexa's – tumbling to the ground.

Screaming and clutching the bleeding stump where his hand used to be, Aden dropped to his knees.

"No!" Aerrow groaned, desperately trying to get up and help his fellow nightblood, but Roan stood cruelly on top of him, crunching his battered, weakened body into the floor. "I told you, no interference." Roan hissed at him.

Ontari stood over Aden, like a Lion circling a wounded Gazelle. She twirled her sword absently, before raising it above her head, preparing to deliver the final blow.

Aerrow closed his eyes in resignation. There was nothing he could do. He knew it, Ontari knew it, everyone knew it.

This battle was over.

He forced himself to open his eyes, and found himself staring directly into Aden's. They were filled with tears, pale and terrified.

The eyes of someone who knew, without doubt, that they were going to die.

Tears blurring his own vision, Aerrow's face twisted into a look of profound sorrow. "I'm sorry…" was all he could think to whisper.

Ontari bought the sword down.

Chunk.

Aden's head dropped from his shoulders. It rolled across the floor gruesomely, coming to a halt in front of Aerrow, eyes still blinking rapidly in those horrific seconds before death.

The body twitched and spasmed with nervous convulsions. A hideous waterfall of blood gushed out from its open neck, bathing the floor of the throne room and spreading around Aerrow.

"NOOO!" He screamed, tears now streaming down his cheeks as he struggled and strained against Roan. "Jesus, no!"

Ontari casually stepped over Aden's body as it stilled, carelessly kicking his head to the side as she approached Aerrow.

Despite the agony he was in, he snapped his eyes up to glare at her. Her cool, smug stare had not changed at all. "I told you it wouldn't matter" she leered down at him.

She turned to face Titus, who had tears of his own falling at the brutal execution. "Now the Conclave is over, Flamekeeper." She told him. "I look forward to my ascension."

The Flamekeeper had no words, he simply bowed his head and left the room in silence.

Once he was out of sight, Ontari scanned the room, looking for Clarke, eager to dirty her blade once more. However, the blonde girl was nowhere to be seen.

"What about him?" Roan asked her, jerking his head towards Aerrow, who was still pinned beneath his foot.

"Aerrow kom Skaikru… Naja…" Ontari evaluated him. Aerrow just closed his eyes and waited for the end, totally defeated. That was why he never saw the look that crossed her face. It was one of hunger, desire. Raw, ravenous ambition.

She looked back up at Roan. "We keep him alive." She told him coldly. "After I wipe out his wretched clan, I have… other ideas for him…"

Aerrow never even heard her words. Whatever was wrong with his body had finally overwhelmed him, dragging him into unconsciousness.

As his world faded to darkness, he took with him the knowledge that his fate, and the fate of Octavia and all the others, had just been sealed…


Please don't hate me… at least more than I hate myself for writing that…

I know a lot of you wanted to the nightbloods to live, and killing off the little family I'd created is one of the hardest things I've had to write, but it had to be done that way, in order for the story to move in the direction I want it to.

This chapter is approximately the halfway point in the story, and it will take a very different turn from this point onwards. All the setting up is out of the way, so now the focus is purely on the story, and Aerrow's journey until its conclusion.

If some of the things in this chapter seem too convenient for the plot, just stick with me. Some of these things have been set up for a long time, and most of them will be revealed soon.