a/n Thank you to everyone who's still reading and reviewing this story! I'm so sorry about the long gap between updates - I keep getting distracted by Child of our Time, which you might want to go check out too. I've got the next few chapters of this planned out, so I hope not to leave you waiting so long next time round.

Happy reading!

Octavia isn't sure what she's expecting to find on her arrival at the valley. She knows little about it, beyond that the hunting is good, and that there are enough homes for her advisers, and that the rest of her people will have to camp until they have built shelters. One thing, though, she is certain of.

She will feel like an unwelcome intruder.

Sure enough, when she arrives at the head of Wonkru, there is no guard of honour to greet her. Bellamy stands at the edge of the clearing, waving self-consciously, and Monty is pottering about in a vegetable plot. Through an open door, she can vaguely hear Raven swearing at something, and a woman's laugh in response.

As she expected. Some welcome this is.

Well, then. There is no point in her standing around and expecting to be treated like a queen. Her place has been made entirely clear to her, whether she likes it or not. She therefore pulls her brother into a hug that she very much hopes he can tell is genuine and heartfelt, and then starts to give orders to her people. Indra and Gaia are to have the first pick of the accommodation, of course, and then Miller who will presumably want Jackson to live with him, too, and then Abby and Kane may choose next, for the sake of keeping Clarke vaguely on side, and then the rest of her advisers may squabble over what is left.

Too late, she realises she has set no house aside for herself. She just presumed, instinctively, that she would be living with the big brother who was her whole world for so many years, but of course, as his daughter chucks a trowel at him and tells him affectionately to stop standing around, it dawns on her that he lives with other people, now.

Armed with his trowel, about to go and do his menial errands, he does at least loiter for long enough to help her out of this crisis of her own making.

"We thought you might want the cottage next door to ours. We sort of set it aside for you. It's a bit smaller than ours, just right for one person, and you'll be able to pop over whenever you want."

Pop over whenever she wants? Bloodreina does not pop over next door on a whim. And, anyway, how is she to have her quarters securely guarded if she lives in a small cottage on the edge of the village, alone?

Of course, Bellamy has walked off by the time she has thought of these objections, grinning at his daughter and brandishing his trowel. Never mind, she tells herself. It will be Miller's problem to work out how to keep her safe. She had better go deposit her pack in this expertly chosen cottage.

And then, she supposes, she had better look like a ruler. There are tents to be pitched, and dinner to be caught. There are also, she recalls, prisoners to be guarded, somehow. She still hasn't set them to fight, having as she does some vague idea that her brother might look at her with less open hostility if she stops making a habit of putting people to death for disagreeing with her. But that leaves her with something of a problem, now, as she faces the question of how to detain them securely in this idyllic valley.

She hated that bunker. So much is certain. But in this moment, she finds herself desperately wishing to go home.

…...

Clarke cannot believe how quickly things start to go wrong. Wonkru have been in Shallow Valley for scarcely twenty-four hours when she hears the first whispers of discontent. Murmurings that this is not what was promised, this makeshift life of makeshift tents. Grumblings that the advisers live a comfortable life, while the working men must work all the harder. Mutterings about the prisoners, about the unfair inconsistencies of these traitors living when so many others have died at Bloodreina's bidding.

Suggestions that Octavia is not a ruler for this above-ground life.

And those whispers would be worrying enough on their own, of course they would. But that is not the worst of it.

Somehow, someone has found out that Madi and Gus are nightbloods, despite the care they have taken not to let this become common knowledge. And it leaves Clarke absolutely petrified. It does not take a genius, she thinks, to put two and two together here. To work out that, in world where the people are unhappy with this ruler, and there are two other obvious alternatives wandering around, it is only a matter of time before her children find themselves the figureheads of an ill-thought-through rebellion.

And then her happy family life with her beautiful baby, and her strong girl, and her formidable lover, will start to unravel, and she will be left clutching at threads of nothingness. She can't let that happen. She simply will not tolerate the idea. So it is that she realises she needs to do what she always does in times of distress.

She needs to talk to Bellamy.

"Hello, handsome." It's the kind of ostentatious endearment she wouldn't usually bother with, and she knows that he knows this. He's no fool, and she is certain he will pick up on this and realise that it is a less than subtle code.

These are not usual circumstances.

He catches her eye, catches too at her waist, and pulls her in for a showy kiss. "Morning, babe."

She nearly loses it at that, nearly ruins it all with a laugh despite the seriousness of the situation. But it seems, though, that their staged affection has done the job. The team of Wonkru warriors who are working alongside Bellamy on the housing situation take a couple of subtle steps backwards, avert their eyes from the activities of this loving couple.

She sighs in relief, and pulls him back in for another kiss. Trails her lips down his neck, and back up to his ear. Whispers her message, even as his hands start to roam the curves of her butt.

"I need to talk to you. Now. Without anyone getting suspicious. Make it look like we're headed for the bedroom?"

He doesn't need to be told twice. This is, she thinks, just one of the many reasons why she loves him. He scoops her into his arms and, with a smirk at the circle of uncomfortable strangers, carries her towards their house, kissing all the while.

He kicks the door closed behind him and sets her down.

"What's wrong?"

"I've been hearing things, Bellamy. Ever since they arrived, about how they're losing faith in Octavia."

"I've been hearing that, too. It's no surprise." He tries to sound matter-of-fact about it, but she knows his feelings on the state of his sister's grip on power are rather more complicated than that.

"Well, yes. But then – then I saw this man, this great big ox of a man – how is he even that size, after five years living in that bunker? - I saw him pointing at Madi and whispering to his friend. And then – then someone at the well asked me outright whether it was true that the kids were nightbloods."

"Hey. Hey, it's going to be OK, Clarke." He wraps his arms around her, but for once, she doesn't find it particularly comforting. She finds it frustrating, and a little patronising. They need to fix this, damn it, not stand around pretending everything will be OK if she only keeps calm.

"No. It's not. It's not, and you know it's not. If just one of these dozens and dozens of people who are unhappy with Octavia decides to try to put Madi on that throne -"

"Why are you only worried about Madi, here, anyway?" He sounds annoyed, and that gives her pause. She's not used to him sounding annoyed with her, these days.

"I just think that's their obvious move. She's older, and she acts older still, and she's not a blood relative of Octavia." She forces herself to sound reasonable, to address the thrust of his question. "I'm worried about Gus, too, of course I am."

"Don't be. I'll talk to my sister, give her the names of the people you've heard being disloyal. She can deal with them."

"Are you out of your mind? We're talking about a huge number of people, Bellamy. She'd kill them all, and you know it. And I don't even know their names -"

"Well, then, Clarke. What do you want me to do about it? Because so far you've shot down every single thing I've said." That's an unfair accusation, she thinks. She's only shot down one thing. And pulled away from that hug. And asked whether he's out of his mind.

Hmm. Perhaps he has a point.

She kicks at the wall, once, hard. And then she reminds herself that the only way the pair of them have ever successfully solved anything is by working together.

"I don't know. I just wanted to tell you, because – because facing things together is what we do."

"I know." He sounds like he is trying to soothe the baby, she thinks. "I know. Come here."

She accepts this hug a bit more willingly, rests her forehead against his shoulder and wonders how, exactly, they are going to go about keeping their children alive.

As if he has read her mind, he offers a suggestion. "I think our best move, now, is to stay close to Octavia. She's already tried to reach out to me, and made it clear she'd like to know Gus better. We have to convince her that we're not interested in rebelling against her, so that if anyone does try anything, she knows that neither us nor the kids were behind it. We don't have to give her any names, if you won't or can't. Let's just give her dinner a bit more often."

She doesn't like it, but it's the smart move, and she's proud of him for thinking it through so calmly in such a stressful situation. "Yeah. You're probably right. When we've finished our fake sex, you should go find her, invite her to come over later."

"Yeah. I'll do that." He kisses her gently on the forehead. "You know what? Now we're here, we could actually have sex. We might as well."

She laughs at that, squeezes him a little tighter round the waist. "You're impossible. Strangely, I'm not really in the mood right now."

"It was worth a try."

"Could we maybe play chess?" She asks, strangely shy at the challenge of asking a man she's been in a relationship with for five years to play a board game with her. "It's just – we could make the most of the time. It feels like it's been forever since we just sat down and played chess alone together."

"I'd like that." He agrees, and withdraws his arms from around her in order to go set up the pieces.

It is good, Clarke finds herself thinking, to be able to salvage something joyful from this afternoon. And it has her thinking that, actually, she might agree to let Harper babysit even more often in future.

…...

Madi has met very few people in her life – or, at least, she remembers meeting very few. She is vaguely aware that she lived in a bustling village until she was six years old, but her memories of that time are fuzzy at best, and only the faces of her nomon and a handful of others stand out to her.

So it is that she was a bit miffed when she first met some of these Skaikru folk, whom she has idolised since almost the moment she first met Clarke and Bellamy. She knew, of course, that Raven was capable of being a bit brusque, and that Echo was not expected to be warm, but all the same, she was disappointed when her overall reception from her parents' friends was such a cold one.

So it is that, now, she is rather enjoying this warmer reception from the ranks of Wonkru. She hardly knows the name of half of those who have approached her since their arrival, pressing her hand, asking whether she really is Clarke and Bellamy's child, inquiring after her parentage and the state of her blood. She seems to remember that she was a little worried about being a nightblood, once, when she was small. But these days, having grown up in a loving family who share the trait, she sees it only as a cause for celebration, and is more than happy to confirm the truth to these friendly strangers who ask their questions.

She's not an idiot, of course. She knows that Octavia has no reason to want another nightblood flaunting their legitimacy in her face. But she has no intention of causing trouble and, besides which, they are family, and that ought to count for something. She intends, therefore, to make the most of the fact that so many people suddenly wish to befriend her.

She has volunteered to teach a fishing lesson, today, and is proud and a little surprised when there are over a dozen takers.

"You're good with a spear, for one so young."

It's a bit of a senseless compliment, she thinks. She's Shallow Valley clan, and a Griffin-Blake to boot. Of course she's good at things, and of course she's good at this one thing in particular. All the same, she smiles warmly at the kindly woman who has spoken.

"Thank you. I've had a lot of practice."

"What other talents have you got then, hmm? Any good with a sword?"

"Passable. Better with a gun. My dad taught me how to shoot." She finds herself warming up to the conversation, deciding that maybe this is not so senseless after all. "And my mum says I'm good at solving problems, too, but I'm not sure how much use that is as a talent."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short. Isn't all battle strategy just problem solving?"

Battle strategy? She didn't realise they were talking about battle strategy.

"Well, maybe. I'm not sure, of course, I've only ever lived in peace really. My parents, they know far more about things like that."

"Of course, dear." The kindly woman nods soothingly. "Of course, they're the experts. So, then. What do I do with this spear?"

…...

Raven knows she ought to be happy. Grateful, too, or at the very least relieved. Because Wonkru are here, now, and Echo is, as yet, safe and well, with not so much as the slightest sign of her banishment being reinstated. Yet she cannot help but feel that something is wrong. She can't put her finger on it, but she does not like these whispers that follow around Spacekru, does not like the watchful eyes and guarded glares.

And she certainly doesn't like living with so many people, once more. It's not just a matter of worrying that Echo might catch someone else's eye. There's something rather more fundamental about it, a suspicion of crowds, that she can't remember being afflicted with before. But she doesn't like the idea that, when something goes wrong, she and her friends will be so outnumbered, that they might be separated by space and strangers.

Sorry, if. If something goes wrong.

She sighs with relief, that evening, when she gets in from a long day in engineering, and Echo is there, in their living room, in their house, in her life. It is the first time she's seen her all day, and she never realised until this moment quite how desperately she was missing her.

"You OK?" Raven asks, dropping onto a seat beside her. Stretching her bad leg out before her, kneading the muscles around her hip with her fist and trying to remind herself that her pain is always worse when she's stressed.

"Yeah. You're not, though." Echo points out perceptively, lifts her hand aside. Replaces it with her own gentle fingers.

"No. Thanks, that feels good." She can't allow herself to relax into it completely, though. "There's something wrong here, I'm sure there is. But I can't work out what."

"I can." Echo tells her conversationally. "Three people have asked me to help depose Octavia today alone."

Raven gasps in shock at that. "You can't, Echo. You mustn't. She'd kill you."

"Only if she caught me. And I fancy my chances, if she tries to put me in that pit."

"Echo." She knows she sounds like she is pleading, but there is nothing else for it. "You can't do that. You must know how much – how tough that would be on the people that care about you. To watch that."

"I guess." Echo sighs. "I'm not going to do it, anyway. She's your friend's sister, for a start. And heaven knows I've no reason to be loyal to her but – I'm loyal to you. And to Bellamy, by association, I suppose."

"Thank you. I just want you to be safe."

She doesn't respond to that, not directly, just keeps massaging that stiff muscle, and eventually moves on in a thoughtful tone. "I'm not sure I like the idea of replacing Octavia with an eleven year old child, anyway. I mean, she's bright, of course. But I think she should be allowed to be a child for a bit longer."

"You mean Madi?" She has to check, even though she cannot see another possibility.

"Yeah." Echo shakes her head, withdraws her hand. "This is silly. I'm not going to do it. Octavia's no worse than any other tyrant I've ever lived under, and I'm not going to help them with their damn coup. I'm going to get some sleep."

Raven pulls her in for a quick hug. "Sleep well. Do you think we could try to spend a bit more time together, over the next couple of days?"

Echo rewards her for that suggestion with a smile. "Yeah. Definitely. Sleep well yourself."

It's a nice sentiment, but it's not going to happen. And not just because of her leg, or her anxiety, or all these damn people who are filling up their new home.

No, she's rather more concerned with the whispers she can hear in the street outside.

The whispers of no Bloodreina no more.

a/n Thanks for reading!