A/N: there's a little nod to Nadia's movie, Spring, in this chapter.
We know from 4.6 that Luna is both aware of Murphy stealing the medicine for Adria, and doesn't seem to hold any negative feelings towards Raven over the fact. So this chapter sort of explores that. It's actually the first one I wrote for this story, though it's evolved a LOT from the first draft. Actually, that's why it took me so long to post. I kept editing it every day cos I wasn't satisfied.
With this fic, I'm constantly trying to find a balance between Luna's anger/judgment/despair and her compassion/peace/hope. We see both sides of her throughout the series and it's something that I'm going to be continually exploring.
Trigger Warning: Child Abuse
Given up on walking in circles after ten minutes, Raven admitted defeat (because she was bored and not because her leg had reached mammoth levels of pain) and returned to Luna's spot on the dock.
The Grounder hadn't budged an inch and the braid was still in her lap.
They were going to be here a while.
Luna inclined her head to acknowledge her return but said nothing.
She was good at being quiet.
Raven could be, too. But that was usually when she had something interesting to focus on and, as beautiful as this island was, it didn't offer much in the way of that.
Her gaze traveled to the perimeter where the drones lingered and she halfheartedly considered taking one down to tinker with just to pass the time. The chances of something exploding or someone being shot at were relatively small, but she also didn't want to explain any of that to Abby if things did go wrong. Or watch Murphy laugh his ass off.
Fucking Murphy.
She still didn't know why he'd tagged along. It certainly would have been better for her ever-fraying sanity if he had chosen to stay behind.
It was like he was trying to make her life harder.
"I won't be much longer."
Raven started guiltily.
Shit.
Had she been that obvious?
"No, take your time. I'm all good. The fresh air is. . . nice."
Much better than recycled space air, at any rate.
Luna smiled fleetingly. "I know you have things to work on back at the lab and that you don't like being away from it."
That was. . . very true but, "This is important, too."
Raven meant that.
She'd been forced to rush through her goodbyes to Finn and Sinclair. Too much else was going on; hell, she'd barely been given even a second to grieve the former before she was strung up on a pole and forced to endure a lovely game of 'let's cut the little bird to ribbons in order to get our rocks off'.
Luna blinked at her words as though they'd surprised her in some way.
Maybe that was to be expected. She hadn't been given time to grieve, either. Raven could remember all of them - including her - pouncing on the Grounder just as she was finishing her prayers for the dead upon discovering that Luna was, very strangely, not among those dead.
And then there was Nyko.
There'd been little time to pay him much respect, either.
Her eyes passed over the braid still clutched protectively in the other woman's hand.
"The girl. . ." She'd had a name. "Adria. She meant a lot to you."
Enough that Raven had been able to use her to alter the callous course Luna had set herself on.
She didn't want to use her now, though.
This wasn't about convincing Luna to stay, this was about giving her the chance to open up about what she'd lost. If she wanted to.
Raven wouldn't have.
But she knew for some people, talking about your pain helped. Somehow.
Maybe Luna was one of those people.
If she was, Raven wanted to give her that.
It was the least she could do for what she was giving them.
Luna glanced up at her, lips curving faintly, which she took to mean that her continued presence and prying weren't completely unwelcome. "I knew her for a long time. Raised her from when she was small."
Raven hesitated before drawing closer. "What happened to her parents?"
"What always happens," she sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "War. Her entire village was decimated when we came across it. There were only a few in Floukru then. This was back when we were just starting to form, before we found our home on the sea. At that time, we were nomadic. Moving from place to place, away from the battles that would spring up anywhere, everywhere. It was also important that we keep our distance from anyone who had any connection to Polis or the Fleimkepas. When we found Adria, we took her with us. We all cared for her but I. . ." She trailed off, eyes drawing downward.
Back to the braid.
It was the first crack she'd seen in the mask of impassiveness Luna had been donning the past couple of days - well, other than the aloof amusement that had hovered over their earlier conversation.
Raven smiled slightly, though it felt tight on her face. "Got attached?"
She turned to her, nodded. "I've always loved children. Their gentleness. Their peace. But I refuse to have any of my own. I would never curse someone else with this blood. Not by choice."
Raven frowned. Whilst her speech the last time they'd been here had convinced Luna to return, she'd sensed it hadn't truly been enough to rid the other woman of years of entrenched self-loathing - at least, in regards to her blood.
Looked like she'd been right.
It was rare that Raven hated being right. This was one of those times.
She opened her mouth but Luna had already turned away, back to the sea, fingers trailing over the braid in her lap. "But Adria. . . Adria was mine." Her face cracked in a smile, an element of vindication to the weak upturn of her lips. "Turns out blood doesn't count for everything."
Raven swallowed. "No. It doesn't."
Blood hadn't meant shit to her mother. Finn was the closest to family she'd ever had and they'd had no relation to speak of. Thank god, or that would've gotten creepy real fast.
"I'm sorry we couldn't save her."
Luna shrugged. "You tried."
She grimaced, looked away. "I. . . actually, I didn't."
The other woman turned back around, but her expression didn't shift. She looked up at Raven, watching, waiting for her to say more. She was good at that. Letting the quiet fill a conversation, just long enough to be effective.
It was actually kind of annoying.
Raven took a breath. "When Abby asked for the pills, I said no. I didn't think they could save her and I didn't want to waste the supplies. Especially since we wouldn't be letting you into Arcadia later once the radiation hit. It didn't seem. . ."
Luna raised an eyebrow. "Logical?"
"Yeah," she breathed.
What was the point of wasting what little protection they had against the radiation? And even if, by some miracle, it did work, what would it even accomplish? No way a handful of Grounders, even if one of them was a child, would find their way onto a list that excluded most of their own people.
That rationality hadn't made Raven feel any better about her decision, though.
"But Murphy stole them anyway, and I was so pissed. I. . ."
Fucking Murphy had been more moral than her.
She glanced up, searching the other woman's face, certain that she would see that gentle calm evaporate under dark contempt, disgust.
But Luna had turned her attention once more to the water, her back transforming into a fortified barrier that Raven couldn't hope to penetrate.
She trailed off, whatever words she was about to claw forth feeling useless on her tongue. She waited for the Grounder to say something, anything.
But she didn't.
This couldn't be it.
She'd expected more, there had to be more.
Raven had condemned to death the child Luna just admitted to loving as a daughter. And, god, she didn't even regret it. Still thought it had been the right choice. Even as it ate away at her, over a week later.
But the other woman said nothing. Did nothing.
"Luna, did you hear what I just said?"
Luna's gaze flicked down and she smiled to herself, though the humor in her eyes was almost bitter.
When she finally spoke, it wasn't about Raven's actions, or Adria.
"At the beginning of a nightblood's training, they actually encourage us to form attachments."
Raven blinked, struggling to grasp what had brought about this sudden shift in subject, what thread of conversation Luna was attempting to pull on. Had she been so horrified by her confession that she couldn't even bear to spend a second longer discussing it?
Raven floundered.
The other woman continued, blind to her confusion, or perhaps simply indifferent to its existence.
"A good leader has to be hard, but not completely without heart. If we weren't able to still care for our people, what use would we be?" Luna's shoulders lifted a moment as she hesitated. "But there's a point, where caring becomes too much. It must always be about the greater number, rather than the individual. Love from a distance - it was something Lexa and I never quite accomplished." The corner of her mouth drew up slightly, though there was a bitter edge to the expression, even as it was tempered by amusement. "In the end, I think it's what made us stronger novitiates. We were always fighting for so much more than the others. But there's a cost to that."
Raven frowned, she didn't understand the point of this. What it had to do with a dead kid she'd refused to save. "Adria-"
"One of the first things we do in our training is learn how to care for something other than ourselves. So they give us each a rabbit, and that rabbit is our responsibility. For a year, we take care of it, protect it, ensure its survival. Learn to love it." Her eyes trailed to the braid in her lap, thumb caressing it softly. "And then, after the year is up, they test us. All the novitiates are locked in a room. Except for one." She hardened her shoulders, set her gaze once again on the sea. "You. The others, they stay in that room, without food, only water. You're fine. You're outside the room. You get food. Your bed. Every comfort important to life. But the others, they starve. For days. Weeks."
Luna's voice was still carefully neutral but Raven could sense a growing tension in it and her stomach began to curdle with unease.
She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the end of this.
"But it doesn't have to take that long. The Fleimkepas give you the power to save them. A knife. And your rabbit. If you kill the rabbit, you can feed it to them. Save them from hunger. From death." She scoffed then, the sound unnaturally harsh from her lips. "They wouldn't have actually let any of us die - not us. We were too valuable. But we were still so young. We didn't know that. We couldn't. We hadn't learnt it yet. The most important lesson. . ." She swallowed. "Our lives matter too much until they don't matter at all."
Raven took a step forward - to do what, she didn't know. Something to wipe that look from Luna's face. She couldn't even judge what that look was, exactly. Something darker than sorrow, more lifeless.
Small.
Luna looked small.
But she halted at the sound of the other woman continuing - just in time. What the hell was she going to do, anyway? Pat her on the back? Mutter 'tough titties' and awkwardly scramble for a subject change?
She had a feeling even Murphy could provide better comfort than that.
Luna's voice, which had started to drop, turn faint, regained its strength; Raven relaxed slightly. "We all go through that test, one by one. No exceptions. Everyone kills their rabbit, eventually."
Her gaze lowered to the braid once more as the world descended into empty silence.
Raven stared. The vivid picture Luna had just painted enough to momentarily distract her from her guilt.
The pang of starvation was nauseatingly familiar to her, clinging to the wretched years that pieced together her early childhood. The idea that anyone would inflict that experience on a kid as a teachable moment made something boil inside of her.
At least her mother's actions had been born out of a reckless disregard for her own child's needs rather than cruel intention. That didn't excuse what she'd done by any means but. . .
It was certainly more palatable, if such a thing ever could be. Easier to swallow, to understand - if not forgive.
Her mother certainly hadn't possessed any pride in it. Just the opposite, in fact. The few times she'd been sober enough to acknowledge what she'd done, there'd been nothing but shame.
Raven didn't know what she would have done if she'd ever swung around and said to her that it had been right.
Necessary.
Probably, she would have punched her in the face.
(who was she kidding? She would have bitten her tongue and abandoned the apartment for Finn's soothing presence, for the reminder that there was someone who loved and appreciated her, who valued her safety and wellbeing. Then she would have returned a few hours later to check that the woman who gave her life was still breathing; clear away the empty moonshine bottles littering the apartment; and tuck her into bed.
Somehow, someway her love for that woman always won out over her hate.
And she'd lived with the shame of that for years, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it)
Raven had been allowed to grow up before the world forced her to kill in order to protect, to hold on to what she loved.
"That's barbaric," she sputtered at last, all thoughts of Adria lost for the time being, swallowed up by memories she'd hoped to abandon to the darkness of space.
Maybe there was some mercy in that.
In a moment's escape from the rattling breaths of a dying child who she'd refused to help.
Luna finally turned around at the statement, expression blank. "But effective." She shrugged. "And the lesson doesn't stop there. A year later, the inhabitants of Polis and surrounding villages line up outside the tower. One by one, they start to get whipped. They volunteer for it, of course. It's their duty. An honor, even. But it's horrible to watch. They're your people, you're supposed to protect them. And you can. Another choice. The whipping will stop, if you take a knife and cut those you love. Deep enough to scar, to really hurt, but not so deep as to risk death or permanent injury."
The way she described it bordered on clinical - utterly without passion, which was almost more unsettling than the content of her speech.
Raven's jaw clenched, ribs burning as she remembered the cut of such a knife. She didn't want to hear this.
Didn't know how not to hear it, either.
She'd wanted to offer Luna the chance to talk.
And here she was: talking.
Raven hadn't been at all prepared for what she had to say, though.
But that didn't really matter, did it?
This wasn't about her.
Or, it shouldn't be.
Perhaps there'd been an element of selfishness in her impulsive decision to confess. She'd only thought about her own actions - and what Luna would make of them. Had been overtaken by the urge to unburden herself, to halt whatever tenderness she saw building for her in Luna's gaze - she couldn't allow it to take root.
So maybe Raven's revelation had been more for her own sake.
Maybe it hadn't been about Luna at all.
But this was.
And she owed it to the other woman to at least listen.
Not that it mattered. Luna seemed determined to continue, with or without her attention.
"The Commander and Fleimkepa know you well by this stage, have watched you, know your personality, your ties. Usually, it's family they choose, or another nightblood you've formed a bond with. Again, we all do it."
She paused, before reaching down and lifting her shirt - revealing two angry strips of darkened flesh over her ribs.
Raven's skin cried out in aching memory and she had to take a moment to steady her breathing.
Death by a thousand cuts.
These ones looked deeper than her own, the scars less faded despite having existed for longer.
She remembered how Lexa had run a sword through the heart of the man who had framed Raven, a man she'd seemed to care deeply for.
Gustus.
So this is how they prepared you for that.
It made a ruthless kind of sense.
But that didn't deter the bile rising in Raven's throat, didn't soften the ghost of pain skating across her ribs.
She had the sudden urge to flee.
Tramped down on it.
Luna didn't look at her, didn't notice the turbulent emotions raging across her face. "This one's from my brother."
She touched the top scar, almost tenderly
She didn't even know Luna had a brother, or that he'd been a nightblood as well - as the other woman seemed to be implying.
She wondered what had happened to him.
If she was honest, Raven could admit that she had little understanding of what it actually meant to be a nightblood. Her knowledge tended towards the sciencey side of it - to A.L.I.E. and Becca's involvement in the whole affair. But Clarke had mentioned something about a fucked up tradition the Grounders had of intentionally killing off the few nightbloods they managed to find - which didn't make any kind of long-term sense. She hadn't gone into detail but Raven had gotten the sense that whatever she'd witnessed had been. . . traumatic.
The horror story Luna was painting for her now certainly seemed to live up to the legend. Raven suspected she probably didn't want to know what exactly had happened to her brother. The odds that he was alive were slim.
They wouldn't be hanging all their hopes on the woman in front of her if there were still other nightbloods out there to prey upon.
But. . . there was a possibility that he'd gone into hiding, too. Same as Luna. He could be anywhere right now, safe - and she wouldn't blame the other woman for choosing not to disclose that information to them, or his location.
If Raven only had one person left in the world that she cared about, she'd want to protect them too.
Luna's hand drew her attention as it moved down to the second scar. It lingered there, finger tracing its ghastly expanse. "And this is Lexa's. She cut deeper. Didn't want to risk being made to do it again. She was always very thorough." With that, Luna lowered her shirt, swallowing slightly before her face returned to its mask of dispassion. "We don't form attachments as easily after that."
Raven had to look away a moment. She knew it was just her mind playing tricks on her but she swore her ribs were hissing, searing tendrils climbing the expanse of her body. "Why are you telling me this?"
She could feel Luna's eyes on her, watching. "You made the smart choice, Raven. The logical choice. The same one I would have made - if I'd accepted the role of Commander. Which is one of the reasons why I didn't, why I wouldn't ever take the Flame willingly."
Raven hesitated before meeting her gaze, insides turning at the empathy she saw there.
She didn't deserve it. Not from Luna. Not for this.
But the other woman seemed determined to give it anyway.
"You were right. Those pills didn't save Adria. And, as you said, you would only have been saving her for the horrors that came later." She hesitated. "It's not the choice I would have made, but I don't blame you for making it."
Raven stared. "You loved her."
Luna's gaze tracked down briefly, hesitating on the braid in her lap. The one she hadn't been able to bring herself to part with. "Yes. More than I've ever loved anyone." She took a breath. "When A.L.I.E. attacked Floukrou, I made the choice to kill someone else I loved, in order to save Adria's life." Her lips curved somewhat bitterly, finger trailing over the length of the braid. "Saved her for a slow and painful death soon after, as it turns out." She raised her eyes to Raven's once more and that smile turned softer, more genuine. "I am the last person alive who has the right to judge anyone for the choices they make. And that includes you."
"It's that simple?"
"It's that simple."
Seeing that she still looked unconvinced, Luna sighed. "I could judge you, Raven. But I can't say that judgment would hold much weight. And honestly right now I don't have the energy for more judgment. Or the heart for it. So, if that's what you're looking for, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to go elsewhere for it."
Well, that was a far cry from the words she'd spoken on this very dock just a few days ago. Her judgment and disdain for all humanity - including Raven - had been on full display then.
This was more in line with the Luna she'd heard Clarke and Octavia speak of, on the rare occasions they ever mentioned their time in Floukru.
Raven wondered which Luna was the real one.
Perhaps they were both real. Struggling for dominance inside her, rising to the surface one day, sinking the next.
Or maybe neither of them were, and the truth existed somewhere in between.
She'd just learned more about Luna than she'd ever hoped (or wanted) to, and yet somehow, she felt more like a mystery to her than ever before.
Whoever Luna was, Raven realized suddenly that she wanted to know her.
She shouldn't. It wasn't important, wouldn't help her save the world, save anyone. Nor was it probably wise. Getting to know people often meant one day being hurt by them, or having to watch them be hurt by others.
But she was lonely. Her closest friend right now was old enough to be her mother and their relationship could be. . . volatile.
Being around Luna, though; talking to her . . . it was easy.
Frighteningly, easy.
Just like being around Finn had once been.
She could use a little easiness in her life.
Had a feeling Luna could use it too.
Raven hesitated before advancing and lowering herself somewhat awkwardly onto the dock beside her, suppressing a grimace at the spiderweb of pain that shot up her hip. Once down, she paused a moment longer before allowing her feet to dangle over the edge like Luna's - it was more comfortable and she had learnt very quickly to seize whatever comfort she could find.
The water beneath her feet had become calm - almost too calm - and, unnerved by the threat it still posed, she looked away, eyes pausing briefly on Luna's exposed feet, resting far too close to hers.
There was a small blemish on one, a shape of sorts. For a moment, she thought it might be a tattoo - to match the ones on her upper arms - but closer scrutiny unearthed a shadowy discoloration that could only be organic.
A birthmark?
Interest lost, she focused on the other woman once more.
Luna watched her actions closely but didn't draw away. If she found the increased proximity of Raven's presence an intrusion, it didn't show.
There was nothing she could say to Luna that felt even close to adequate after all she had just revealed. There were no words that softened the ache of a childhood destroyed, and Raven knew that intimately.
She also suspected that Luna hadn't revealed this aspect of her past because she wanted to be comforted, to be heard. Rather, it was a tool she'd employed in an attempt to ease Raven's own pain.
And that was. . .
Well, she didn't really know what to do with that.
Against her will, her eyes were drawn to Luna's ribs, picturing the cuts that had been hidden away once more, thinking of the history they held.
She knew just how painful that history could be. And what it must have taken Luna to share it with her.
Raven couldn't understand it.
Probably never would.
Taking a breath, she gestured at Luna's side. "Can I?"
Raven wasn't sure where the impulse had sprung from. She hated anyone touching her own scars. Freaked out once during sex with Wick when he'd tried to. But the memory of Luna's story still made her stomach churn, even moreso the way she had looked at those scars with a certain fondness. Like they were keepsakes, gifts from those she loved, rather than the marks of abuse they really were. But then, what else did she have left over from her family? Her friends?
No graves, no photos.
A couple of scars and some hair.
Raven had a necklace. That was all.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
But it was what she had.
Luna looked at her in slight confusion but lifted her shirt back up with little hesitation. Raven would have snapped and walked away if someone had asked the same of her, but Luna's demeanor had always been softer. Not pliant, not weak . . . but more peaceful, at ease with the things expected of her.
With her horrors.
Raven hesitated, hand hovering in the air before she let herself touch, fingers gliding lightly over the scar that had been gifted by her brother. Luna flinched slightly but didn't pull away. Raven wondered if she was the first to touch it, rethought her decision to do so. What if this was an invasion? Added salt to wounds that even a lifetime couldn't fully heal?
But she didn't pull away and, after a moment, the Luna exhaled, relaxing under her hand.
Raven couldn't conjure any words of comfort, could barely speak at all, but she could offer this.
A gentle touch.
She tried to imagine a child cutting into this flesh, Luna doing the same to another, wondered just how young they'd been at the time.
The Grounders and Sky People could certainly compete for brutality. And all in the name of survival.
That justification was starting to taste like ash in her mouth.
Surrounding the two scars were a bunch of smaller, faded lines, too many to count at a glance. They disappeared under the wrapping of Luna's bra - which she was trying her best not to look at, out of respect (thank god, only the bottom half was showing). Despite her curiosity, Raven decided not to ask about those. She was reluctant to hear any more grisly tales about what growing up as a nightblood entailed.
"How do you live with it?" she asked, when she finally felt able to speak again. "All of it. The choices. The guilt."
Luna's hand came up to cover hers, though she didn't pull it away, just folded her fingers over Raven's in a firm but gentle hold. "Hope. Hope that there's something more to life than those choices, than surviving."
Raven's skin burned under the touch, electricity firing along her nerve endings, shooting up her arm - all the way to her heart. It was uncomfortable. But also invigorating. She didn't know whether to tear herself away, or lean in further to the touch.
She swallowed.
"And if there isn't?"
Luna didn't hesitate. "Find something that's still worth fighting for. Something that matters. For me, it was building a safe place of peace for my people."
"And now that you've lost that?" She felt bad for asking, for poking at a wound nowhere near as healed as the scar beneath her hand, but she needed the answer.
"I suppose now I'm just trying to find whatever peace I can." Luna gave her hand a squeeze, tried for a smile but it seemed hollow to Raven, void of the hope she professed to cling to.
Heart thudding in her chest, she squeezed back.
Raven tried to remember the last time she'd held someone's hand - more than briefly - for no other reason than to just hold it.
Until now, she hadn't realized that she had been missing that contact. That she needed it.
But holding Luna's hand felt a little like breaking the surface of a nightmare, in those few minutes afterwards when she took the time to just breathe.
To be still.
Everything was okay, everything would be okay, as long as she just breathed.
The terrors of tomorrow could wait. All she had to do was close her eyes and immerse herself in the knowledge that, for now, she was safe. For now, death lay behind and ahead of her, but not inside this moment.
That was what holding Luna's hand felt like.
Raven wondered whether it was doing the same for her. Hoped it was.
They were quiet for some time, before Luna spoke again, curiosity in her gaze. "Why did you tell me about Adria?" She cocked her head to the side. "Were you looking for solace or condemnation? Retribution or forgiveness?"
Raven's mouth opened but words failed her. It had been impulsive, the confession. She wasn't sure she'd been seeking anything at all. Or, not really.
True, she'd wanted to talk about it with the other woman, to unburden herself. Mostly because every ounce of kindness from Luna felt like sandpaper against her skin, like she was deceiving her in some way.
She'd needed to talk about it - but that didn't mean she'd been looking for anything.
Punishment or forgiveness hadn't been the goal.
The truth had.
Luna's lips quirked slightly. "Because, as I told you, I'm not sure I'm the right person to give you that. The things I've shared, believe me when I say those. . . are the least of my crimes." She shrugged lightly. "And besides. I'm no judge, no Heda. And I don't want to be. I forfeited that role when I forfeited the Flame."
Raven couldn't hold her tongue this time. "You seemed full of judgment the last time we were here."
Luna didn't blink, her expression remaining as calm as the water beneath their feet, not even a ripple to mar it. "And I was. I don't respond well to being forced into things. That usually ends with me having to kill someone, often someone I love." Her mouth hinted at something that might have been a smile, lids lowering slightly as she stared at her lap, but the subject was far from humorous. "Especially when it involves my blood. I was angry. Hurting. Scared." Raven stiffened slightly at the implication - that Luna had been scared of them. Her stomach turned. "And I can be again, if that's what you really want. But I'd rather not return to that state, if I can help it." She hesitated. "I can't exist inside it and still do what you need me to do. Do you understand? You asked me not to give up. This is the only way I know how to do that."
Yeah. Raven could understand.
Luna needed to believe that they were worth saving. Any of them. All of them. She needed to live in that belief, to immerse herself in it.
Otherwise, she would drown - and take the rest of them down with her.
Right now, Luna held their lives in the palm of her hand. Their salvation flowed in her veins, and Raven had handed her the power to choose whether she granted it or not.
She could just as easily let them sink to their doom.
In spite of that realization, Raven felt no regret for the choice she'd made; the steady heat of Luna's hand enveloping her own warded against it.
Perhaps there was room for sentiment at the end of the world, after all.
And if there wasn't, Raven was determined to make some.
She swallowed and nodded.
Luna smiled and that gesture was all she needed to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that her choice had been worth it.
Whatever happened, it would be worth it.
She cleared her throat, realizing she could answer the other woman's question after all. "I told you because I thought it was something you should know. Since you're helping us."
Helping me.
Luna frowned a little, this answer seemingly one she hadn't expected. "And what if knowing had made me leave?"
Raven's lips parted but she said nothing.
To be honest, she hadn't really thought that far ahead and even if she had, she wasn't sure it would have been enough to keep her silent.
The absence of words seemed to tell Luna all she needed, though.
That smile returned.
"Well, thankyou, then. For telling me."
"Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone's hand is the beginning of a journey. At other times, it is allowing another to take yours."
― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration
A/N: I would like to take the time to apologize to my beloved bunny, Magna, for this chapter. I wrote the draft before I had you. No hard feelings.
I was trying to think of how they would prepare children to one day kill the friends (or family) they'd spent their entire lives with. I highly doubt they just throw them all in an arena and hope for the best. This isn't the hunger games. And I'd think they'd want to raise them to be accustomed to that kind of sacrifice and ruthlessness in order to avoid them breaking from the sudden trauma of killing their friends. It feels like something they would have to build up to.
I plan to be doing quite a bit of worldbuilding when it comes to the grounders - especially in regards to nightbloods in an effort to make sense of that fucked up system.
Also this might be a good time to warn you guys that I haven't seen past s4 yet - I had to stop watching after Lexa died for my mental health and only started again at the end of last year and I watch it with my mum so we're moving at a snail pace. Because of that, there might be some things that don't entirely line up. I'm trying to be aware of all the major events that happen on the show but without watching it, I figure I'm going to miss some things.
