Day 138 – Jan. 28
Myles' head aches like a motherfucker, but she's still alive, and that confusing fact is the only thing that's keeping her feet dragging her forward to follow the man holding her captive. Her hands are tied together in front of her, the rope biting into her skin and chaffing uncomfortably as the man pulls at her lagging form. The heart-shaped locket that was once her mothers still hangs around her neck, the metal nipping at her pale skin in the cold winter air. All of her weapons are gone except for her spare mags and the knives in her bra and boots, leaving her sluggish mind to fret about the condition of her fawb glove.
That thing is her baby, having built the entire thing from scratch and spent many sleepless nights struggling to make it actually work. Max and Jasper aren't a concern, the small calico coloured dog wasn't harmed by her captor, only stunned by some sort of blow before bolting to get Jasper for help. Jasper hadn't been happy, her best friends voice chastises her through the ear piece still connected to the radio on her near empty belt frequently, not trying to hide his disdain for this plan.
If Jasper didn't have guns, and didn't trust Myles as much as he does, her captor would be dead by now. Hazel eyes don't need to scan the wilderness around them or hear her best friends voice in her ear to know that he and Max are following them. They'd left the rest of the Farm Station survivors with the coordinates and a map for Arkadia, choosing instead to tag along for this adventure to appease the redheads curiosity.
Ray Jordan hadn't wanted to go with the survivors to Arkadia, but his steps are loud and his body untrained. Unable to accompany his son, and unwilling to join the rest of his Station, Jasper had taken him to their home. This had been hours ago, before the sun had set yesterday, leaving Pike and his group to survive the night in Trigeda territory alone and unsupervised while Jasper chases after his reckless best friend.
"Aggie," Jasper's voice calls lowly through her ear piece. Myles already knows what he's about to say, she's been waiting for him to acknowledge the predicament from the second her boots stopped stepping over the pale rocks of the riverbank to walk through the river. "I can't follow you if you keep walking along the water, I need to get across. Give me fifteen seconds and then cause a diversion."
Myles quickens her pace ever so slightly so her hands aren't being pulled and she can discreetly reach her walkie-talkie. Pressing the transmit button twice to say yes, the red haired teen let's her arms fall slack again as her boots leave the water to walk over the rocks on the other side. Counting one in her head, Myles starts to stumble but catches herself. The man holding her captive tilts his head towards her, giving her a glimpse of the black war paint carelessly slapped across his face through the long and matted braids of his brown hair without meeting her eyes. Two. His hands tug on the twisted vines acting as a rope, making the material rub and scrape harshly against her skin.
"Stay on your feet," the man tosses over his shoulder as she reaches five, not slowing his strides.
A red eyebrow quirks up at the accent in the man's voice, hearing the familiar warped vowel sounds mixed amongst hard consonants with the vague trills indicative of a grounders accent. However, this is different. All of the other Clans have small distinguishing features to their accents, but none of his words have that. It's purposely sluggish, as if he were trying to mask the details of his speech.
The redheads curiosity only continues to grow. If he doesn't want her to know where he's from, and he's not killing her when he has had ample opportunity to do so, what's his plan?
Eight. Myles stumbles once more, one of her boots landing in the shallow water of the rivers edge as she makes sure to swerve closer to the riverbed. Her wrists are tugged on harshly again, and this time when she stumbles, it's authentic. Unable to catch herself from the jolt, the red haired teen falls to her knees on the rocky shore. Ten. Pain explodes through her knees, and she's yanked to her feet by the rope around her wrists, but it's worked, he's closer to the water now.
"On your feet!" The man snaps while her wet boots scuffle over the rocks in an attempt to stay on her feet.
Thirteen. Trying to hasten her steps to get closer to the man and disguise it as her stumbling to remain upright, Myles gets ready for her plan of action. Fourteen. Barely any light shines down on them from the early morning sun, keeping the crisp winter air chilly and the wildlife quiet. Fifteen.
Throwing herself forward with all of her body weight, the redhead sends both herself and her captor sprawling to the ground. Sharp pain pinches at her body as her front falls roughly onto the hard and thick stones of the shore, her bound hands pulling awkwardly to the side as ice cold water splashes all over her back and shoulders from her captor falling into the water. Her radio and ear piece are mostly spared from the water, but the man's whole body gets submerged before he shoots up into a sitting position.
Hazel eyes can hardly see the flicker of her best friend and their dog booking it across the river behind her captors angrily standing figure looming above her, and her panicked scooting backwards across the jagged rocks isn't out of fear. She knows that he's not going to kill her; if he was, he would've done it already. It's to keep him distracted, his brown eyes on hers and not on Jasper and Max ducking into the tree line.
The man's boots chase after her pathetically shimmying form slowly, and Myles squeaks out, "sorry."
"Looks like the great Wanheda's human after all," the man's gruff voice proclaims as Myles stills at state of his face, her curious eyes watching the black war paint melt away with morbid fascination.
Underneath the man's black war paint are the decorative facial scars of someone from Azgeda. Raised white skin sweeps thickly around his eyes from his forehead to his cheek bone, branching off into multiple lines before joining together again, the scarring mirrored in a symmetrical pattern on both sides of his face. This leaves the redhead with more questions than it does answers. They're not heading anywhere near Ice Nation territory, so why is he keeping her alive, if not to give to his queen?
"You," Myles murmurs in exhilaration, sitting up slowly, "just keep getting more interesting."
"Says the great Wanheda…" the man replies, letting his Ice Nation accent shine through unrestrictedly, pulling a water-skin from his soaking wet side and bending down to fill it. "…who doesn't even fight back," looking up while he refills his water, he gestures with his hands that no longer hold the rope she's tied with to prove his point. "Or run."
"What can I say?" Myles huffs through a thoughtful smile, "you're intriguing. Be a shame to kill such an interesting adventure."
"You crave death," the man declares, tucking his water-skin away before stalking over to her and picking up his end of the rope. "Strange sight of a hero."
"A glowing review, Azgeda," the redhead quirks her brows sarcastically, standing up on her own. "I'm flattered."
The Azgedian watches her, squinting his brown eyes and speaking after a moment of thought, "you're steady now."
"Yeah, well," Myles deflects his scrutinising gaze, "my head hurts. Thanks for that, by the way."
"I liked it better when you were quiet," her captor jibes, walking forward and tugging on the rope to pull her after him.
"Oh!" Myles exclaims loudly, an overly-exaggerated bright smile taking over her delicate features. "In that case, Azgeda, let me tell you a little something about military exercises in space."
"I will gag you," the Azgedian warns, not looking back at her as they continue over the rocky riverbank.
"That isn't involved," the redhead rambles, "but I suppose it could be. Brilliant idea, Azgeda. You see, what they do is…" the man halts, spinning around to the mockingly chattering red haired teen and sticking his hand into his bag. "…instead of killing large groups of people and fighting to the death in medieval torture groups, they make you do team building activities." A strip of worn and dirty beige fabric is pulled from his bag, and Myles watches the movement, but doesn't try to pull away from his hands. "That's very rude, this isn't very team-like of you. I think we need to do Inchworm, I feel like we're not on the same page at all."
Her last few words are muffled as the Azgedian ties the fabric at the back of her head, strands of her shoulder length red hair being tugged at and pulled uncomfortably. Myles goes quiet, looking into the man's annoyed brown eyes with an alive twinkle in hers.
"Is this better?" Myles' muffled voice is unrecognisable to her own ears, but her captor seems to understand her.
"It will do," he grunts out, turning back around to march over the rocky terrain.
Its quiet between them again, only the sounds of their own rough and careless footsteps trampling over the Earth. An idea blossoms in her mind, and she decides to keep rambling through her gag in an effort to gauge more information out of her captor.
"…she didn't do that, though," Myles blabbers on nonsensically through her gag, "no, not Rosie. She put Venus after Earth, and there was no way she was changing it." The sun is higher in the sky now, and the redheads throat is dry and sore from talking so much. Still, she refuses to stop, comfortable with the fact that she is slowly chipping away at the Azgedian's mind. "She got her ass right up to Mr. Fielding and sai – "
Myles is abruptly cut off when her captor yanks her tied hands to himself and shoves her onto her back on the long grass below them. Landing with a solid thump, a small peep of a squeak bursts from the redheads mouth in surprise. Hazel eyes widen when the man goes to the ground with her, holding her shoulders down and leaning over her body completely with his.
"Quiet," the man orders in a whispered voice, his brown eyes hard with seriousness.
A red eyebrow quirks up, but she remains silent, and the Azgedian slowly leans back. His hands still grip onto her shoulders, pulling her up with him. He stays crouched down, his knees hovering over her sitting form as he twists his head to her left. Myles follows his gaze to see two men in full armour with weapons in their hands and masks over their heads walking carelessly through the same overgrown field as them. Confusion blurs over Myles' features, and her captor mistakes it for not recognising the scouts from their armour.
"Ice Nation scouts," he explains, and the redhead levels him with an exasperated look. Myles isn't confused about who they are, but why they're here. Why her captor doesn't want them to know that they're here. Lexa won't like this, and she knows from experience that they'll take this as an act of war. "Come on," her captor urges quietly, "we back track. Then we go around."
Curiouser and curiouser. Red eyebrows pull together, and she realises that if they go around them, she might not get to know what the fuck is actually going on. Surely, if Azgeda warriors are marching on Trigeda lands, that must be where he's taking her, right? To their queen? Why then, would he not want his people to know? To instead go around them? It's only two scouts, but Jasper needs to get around them discreetly so he can cross the field to follow after Myles.
Flicking her hazel eyes between her captors two brown, Myles screams. The Azgedian holding her prisoner looks disappointed and exasperated, but not surprised. Pulling a sack from his bag, the man wastes no time in yanking it over her head.
"Their deaths are on you," he tells her, and Myles can't help the sadistic snort that bursts from her.
She's unceremoniously wrenched up by her shirt as the sound of three footsteps rush to them. Dread finally pumps through her veins; if there's more than two, how many are there? This was supposed to distract them to help Jasper sneak around them, but what if there's too many and she's just doomed him? Flecks of light shine through the sack over her head, but hazel eyes cannot see what's happening in front of her. Her captors hands still grip the rope, Myles can feel it in his hand as his fingers hook around the twisted vines holding her hands together.
"This is a horrible idea," Jasper murmurs lowly through her ear piece, adding to the redheads paranoia.
Myles is thankful her hands are tied in front of her, allowing her the ability to grab the knife still tucked into the fabric of her bra, if she needs to. Her rising anxiety is less for her own wellbeing, the red haired teen knows and feels her best friend watching over her through the scope of a gun. But, if he's forced to shoot them, it will reveal himself to whoever else is out here.
"Chil, you," her captor tries to pacify the other Azgeda warriors, "ai nou lufa sich au." [AN: "Easy. I don't want trouble."]
"Em kom Azgeda," a man informs the others, his voice sounding slightly higher and younger than her captor's. "Chon dison bilaik?" [AN: "He's Ice Nation. Who's this?"]
Ice cold dread fills Myles' throbbing veins. While her captor might not want to harm her himself and is happy just pulling her happily complying ass along, the same cannot be said for these warriors. Patiently waiting for either Jasper or the Azgedian who's holding her captive to make a move, the redhead can't help the paranoid shiver that runs through her arms or the involuntary twitch that her hands make against her captors.
"Wanheda," her captor discloses, and Myles regrets trying to annoy the man. "Honon gon Haiplana." [AN: "The Commander Of Death. A prisoner for our Queen."]
One of the warriors shifts, stepping around them and Myles' hands twitch against her captors again. Slowly, the new persons footsteps approach them, before the sack is lifted and torn away from her head. Hazel eyes quickly scan the men in front of her, taking in their aggressive posture, outfits and weapons. They're all dressed the same, in typical Azgeda armour, one weilding a machete, one a sword, and the third a bow with an arrow notched. Heads twists and snap to each other, and even with their faces completely covered in masks and patchwork hoods, Myles can see the excitement the three of them bubble with.
"Ai don tel yo op," her captor urges, sensing the men's eagerness as much as the redhead is. "Ai nou lufa sich au." [AN: "I told you. I don't want trouble."]
"Oso na bilaik klir skai, klin woda," the man who lifted the sack from her head gleefully proclaims to the two men behind him. Myles shifts on her feet, getting ready for an attack. "Sis em op." [AN: "We'll be set for life. Take her."]
"Ai nou na teik yo dula daun," the man holding her wrist refuses in the same low tone he's been talking with the whole time. [AN: "I can't let you do that."]
As soon as the words are out of his mouth, her captor completely lets go of her hands and the rope tying them together. Myles doesn't move, staying exactly where she is and watching the Azgeda warriors with a fiery determination in her hazel eyes. Brown eyes halfheartedly glance in surprise over his shoulder at his freed hostage, before looking back at the warriors snapping at him.
"Chit yu dula?" One of the men harshly snap, taken aback by the captor letting her go and pulling his sword and one of Myles' knives that he'd stolen. [AN: "What are you doing?"]
"Ai na hon em in," another man calls loudly over his shoulder, rushing up to Myles. "Frag em op." [AN: "I'll get her, kill him."]
The other two warriors close in around the redheads captor, but she's sure he can handle himself. When the warrior running up to her reaches her, Myles ducks down to avoid his rough hands and slips back up a second behind his right arm. Yanking up her bound hands, the red haired teen quickly hooks them around her attackers neck and wrenches the man's head down. Lifting up her knee quickly, the hard bones in his face crack and crunch as they smash into Myles' kneecap.
Spinning around, hazel eyes see her captor has his sword shoved through one of the warriors stomach as the archer staggers to his feet, dazed, behind him. His bow and quiver are hastily slung over her captors shoulder, leaving the archer with only a dagger. Myles' footsteps reach the archer while her hands pull her knife from its slot in the fabric of her bra and the redhead jumps onto the archers back to bring her bound hands with the knife to his throat.
Her captor turns to them, lifting the bow, notching an arrow and drawing back the string before halting at the sight. The red haired teen is hoping this can end without him dying, but that daydream is discarded abruptly when the archer lifts his dagger in a hopeless attempt to stab her. Hooking her leg up and over his shoulder, her boot lands on his forearm and Myles shoves the weapon away. The archer tumbles from the jolt and shifting of her weight on his back, sending him crashing to the ground.
Myles goes down with him, her tied hands still hooked around his throat and forcing her to the ground. The archer recovers quickly, but Myles recovers even quicker, already on her feet again and ready for the man's angered and hasty approach. His arms are opened wide as he barrels towards her, expecting her to pull something like she had earlier with the other warrior. Instead, Myles flings herself into his arms and swings her hands up to stab the knife into his throat and slash. Blood spurts everywhere, spraying over her face and neck a second before the archer falls to the ground.
An arrow is shot towards her, but it misses Myles by a few inches and her hazel eyes stare at her captor in confusion. It's the first time he's done something to her besides knock her on her head. He meets her eyes for a split second, before focussing on something behind her and approaching her with an unsteady wobble in his steps. Turning around, Myles sees the warrior she had bashed into her knee near where she had left him, with an arrow sticking out of his chest.
"Aggie," Jasper's low voice calls over the radios ear piece still in her ear. "There's a whole Ice Nation army west of us. Pull out or you'll be dead."
"Now that's better," the man praises in a gruff voice, and Myles pulls the gag from her mouth. "It didn't have to be this way."
"There's a whole army here," the redhead repeats, nodding her head to the west end of the field they're in. "What other way is there?"
The man's brown eyes turn in the direction her head indicated to and his body freezes, as if he wasn't expecting the sight of the distantly marching Azgedians. His hands grip her arms and he roughly pulls her down to crouch in the long grass with him. Red eyebrows twitch in curiosity, and her hands go to her walkie-talkie to let Jasper know that she's not ready to end this.
"You want to avoid your own army," Myles relays quietly, her finger pressing down on the transmit button. "You really know how to make an adventure I could never pull out of."
His brown eyes look at her with an almost hesitant curiosity as her finger lifts off of the button discreetly, "your need for an adventure is going to get you killed."
"If you wanted me dead," the redhead deadpans, quirking an eyebrow up in a silent challenge. "You would've killed me already."
"There's still time," the man counters, lifting the fabric acting as a gag from her neck and sticking it back in her mouth before yanking the bloody knife from her hands. He brings a finger up to his mouth sarcastically, pulling the red haired teen up to walk across the field, away from the Azgeda army. "Now shh."
Myles snorts obnoxiously, speaking through the cloth in her mouth, "how boring."
A disgruntled huff and a halfheartedly harsh tug on the rope tied around her wrists is the only response Myles gets from her captor. Following along after his limping form, the redhead keeps her hazel eyes looking at the army marching on Trigeda lands to their left. Their steps are slow and cautious now, deliberately trying to avoid any more scouts that may be roaming around. Worry pricks at her heart, hoping her best friend can use all of their training to stay hidden and safe.
War drums bang on in the distance, and it makes both the redhead and her Azgedian kidnapper falter, bending over slightly to crouch down while they walk. The army is getting closer to the field, walking on an angle and quickly closing the distance between them and the redheads captor.
"We've got a problem," Jasper's anxious and breathless voice informs her through her ear, and Myles instantly starts whipping her head around to search him out. Her heart stills and her steps falter when her gaze lands on Indra, Marcus, Monty and Bellamy walking through the field, where she and her captor had been fighting the scouts minutes ago. Jasper and Max sprint through the long grass behind them, barreling towards them in an attempt to save them from the Ice Nation warriors that surround the field that holds them all. "Keep moving."
It's almost as if he can feel her eyes on him, and knows it's her. Bellamy Blake's deep brown eyes instantly find hers, and even from the tree line she enters across the field, Myles can see his whole posture shift. Snapping her head back to her captor to make sure his attention is on the woods in front of them, Myles' breathing picks up and her veins feel electrified with anxiety. They're passing through the trees, but still the army is getting closer to them, the war drums gradually getting louder.
Abandoning her resolve to not look at Bellamy for a moment, hazel eyes get glimpses of Bellamy sprinting to her before being tackled roughly by both Jasper and the two best friends small calico dog. Deep brown eyes never leave hers once he stands again, desperately trying to ignore the frantically demanding hands of Jasper and Marcus that try to stop him from following her. It looks like there's nothing and no one else in the world besides the redhead to him. Monty and Indra join in on holding Bellamy back, with the formers attention seemingly being tugged in five thousand different directions as he wrestles with what he's supposed to do now.
Feeling confident Jasper and Max have this covered, Myles looks at the wobbly man in front of her once more. Jasper and Monty haven't said one word to each other directly in three months, and the closest they've come to seeing each other is Jasper watching him from a distance. A pang of sorrowful regret sends ice cold pain through her chest, her worry for her two best friends growing.
Myles knows Jasper isn't ready to face Monty, even though the latter has already forgiven him for the atrocious behaviour he displayed before leaving to live with the redhead. Monty isn't the kind of person to hold a grudge about that, even though some of the brunettes words truly affected him. Monty knows that it was all out of pain and grief, understanding that him forgiving his best friend is not the same as his best friend forgiving himself. In truth, Myles doesn't know if there's anything in the universe that could properly ruin their relationship.
"Handled," her best friend huffs through her ear piece, and Myles' shoulders sag in relief, releasing the tension that she hadn't even realised had formed there. "I can't follow you across, I have to wait for the army to pass. Lay low and let me know if the plan changes."
Keeping close to the injured Azgedian in front of her, Myles presses the transmit button twice in acknowledgement. Suddenly, her captors sluggish steps stop altogether, and his bloody hand rests on a tree beside them. His other hand fumbles through the bag slung over his shoulder, pulling out an old brochure with the layout of trains and their paths detailed. A crudely drawn map of the lands is scrawled over top of it, and her captors eyes scan it. Red eyebrows twitch up, her mind already reconciling their position and their need to hide from the army as her gaze scours the map.
Clan symbols are drawn all over the paper, indicating the directions to each of their lands. Two different coloured inks line over the map, a brown and a black. The brown ink looks to be underneath the black, and hastily indicates tunnels and possible paths underground. Black ink crosses over some areas, possibly marking tunnels that are inaccessible or don't lead to anywhere. Landmarks are detailed in the black ink, showing the paths to Polis, specific villages, Arkadia and Mount Weather.
Black squares with small shapes, dashes and scribbles in them mark out where the underground tunnels find the surface of the Earth again, and where hideouts and water can be found. It doesn't take Myles more than a short moment to locate their position and see exactly where the nearest entrance for a tunnel is. Gripping her captors arm with her bound hands, the redhead surges forward and the man easily follows her. He's unsteady on his feet, looking like he's about to fall flat on his face, and a warped sense of concern washes over her for the Azgedian.
Weaving around the trees, the two find the stone brick walls that stand around a staircase which descends into the Earth within moments. There's nothing else to show for it, only the hip height, crumbling brick walls and the two skinny, tall black poles that stand on the ends of it. Green moss and grass cover the decaying stone, but Myles still marvels at the sight when they reach it.
The wounded Azgedian man stops again when they walk between the walls, leaning his hand on the stone bricks and stepping down the first step slowly. Concrete stairs that are overgrown with greenery and discoloured and chipped from age descend into absolute darkness. A hand touches her elbow, and hazel eyes flick up to the man's brown.
"Scream again," the man huffs in warning, continuing to step down the stairs and tugging on the redheads arm, "and we'll both be dead."
Myles steps down the stairs eagerly, disappearing into the darkness before her attacker follows her down. The darkness doesn't stretch for long, beams of early afternoon sunlight stream down through leaf covered grates in the ceiling. It's a subway station, tiled walls with rotting posters and signs keeping them company. An abundance of wires rain down on them from the ceiling and sit scattered across the floor. Concrete pillars and long, old, bright blue seats are placed every few metres.
Her captor shrugs off his bag once they're a couple of metres past the end of the staircase, and Myles takes this as her cue to stop walking. The rope around her wrists is no longer being tugged on or held, the Azgedian either not thinking she's an issue or not caring if she tries to make a break for it. They're surrounded by Ice Nation warriors, so even if she wanted to go, she couldn't.
Leaning her back against one of the concrete pillars, hazel eyes watch her captor start peeling off his armour, stopping when he reaches his tattered, blood covered brown shirt. A red eyebrow quirks up when he gingerly bends down to gather debris to make a fire, and she pushes off of the pillar to do it for him. The red haired teen is silent as she works, her gag is still in her mouth but that's not what's stopping her from talking.
Fretful dread looms over her, the weight of it easily several times as heavy as the curious look the Azgedian man watches her with. It's not until she's got everything ready that Myles pulls down her gag, and she only does it so she can blow on the kindling while she rubs her bound hands down a stick. After a moment of rubbing the stick, a small hint of smoke rises in the dim light, and the redhead keeps her actions going until there's a flame.
Dumping the lit kindling into the fire pit, Myles stands and walks back over to the pillar she had leant against and slides down it to sit on the grotty, leaf covered floor. The air in the subway station is colder than it is on the surface, but instead of pulling her legs up to keep warm, the redhead sits with her legs out straight in a 'v' shape. It's a subconscious move to show her captor that she has the upper hand, making sure he knows that she doesn't fear him and is able to get comfortable.
The man makes an amused huffing sounding, before bending down to drop a knife into the fire. He groans softly at the movement, straightening to remove his brown shirt. Strained grunts fill the air, and Myles struggles not to feel bad for him. Hazel eyes shift to him from her dazed staring at the fire and halt on his back. Intricate scars in a large pattern of curved lines cover the skin of his back, reminding Myles of the kinds of brands that they give themselves in place of tattoos.
Flicking her gaze back to the fire, her hazel eyes can just barely see his athletic and toned muscles tense and quiver with pained movements. Her mind is elsewhere, though, spinning around in circles of Jasper, Bellamy, Monty, Marcus, Indra and Max.
"Another inch," her captors deep voice converses, not turning around to look at her. "And I'd be dead." Tilting his head to glance at her, "Maybe you're not the Commander of Death, after all." Myles doesn't answer or look back at him, keeping her disinterested hazel eyes on the dancing flames. "Now she's quiet."
"I didn't do that to you," Myles reminds him blankly, not shifting her eyes or adding anything to the tone of her voice.
"No," he agrees, nodding slightly and twisting his body towards her, the angry stab wound still bubbling with blood. "But you brought the man who did to us."
"Everything good?" Jasper asks through her earpiece after another awkward beat, and Myles instantly presses the transmit button twice in acknowledgment.
Hazel eyes glide back over to the man's back, "why are you hiding?" Brown eyes glance over his shoulder, "from your own people?"
"Why'd your run away from yours?" Her captor retorts, and the redhead stops, realising that he has a point.
The Azgedian hobbles over to the fire, before bending down gingerly to pick up the knife. Myles can't see his face, or what his hands are doing, but she can hear the sizzle of the blade against his skin and smell the stench of seared flesh. A strained groan drawls out of his mouth as the muscles in his back twitch and flinch.
"The Great Wanheda," the man mocks once the hot blade is no longer on his skin, turning around and walking up to the red haired teen. Myles keeps her eyes on his, even as he holds the blade, glowing bright from heat, so close to her face that she can feel how hot it is. "Mountain Slayer."
"You want me to spit on it?" Myles replies, her tone equally as sarcastic as his is.
"How can someone," he starts, pulling the blade away from her face, "be that feisty and lethal, yet not fight back once?"
"I told you, Azgeda," the red haired teen shrugs one shoulder halfheartedly, "yu ste bilaik nodoben." [AN: "you are intriguing."]
"Me?" The man scoffs, looking at her in disbelief, "what about you, Wanheda? The great warrior that doesn't fight anymore."
"I'm not what everyone seems to think I am," Myles answers immediately, continuing at the perplexed look in his brown eyes. "Someone who's great," the venom in her voice as she repeats the word is almost guttural, spitting the word out as if it were sour in her mouth. "A hero, someone who has power."
"Who are you…" her captor questions slowly, crouching down to match her eye level instead of standing over her. "…if you're not those things?"
"No one," the redhead supplies, diverting her eyes back to the flames flickering in front of her.
"Lot of people out there right now," his gruff voice shoots back, "looking for no one."
"What can I say?" Myles brags, leaning her head back on the gritty pillar and locking her hazel gaze on his brown again. Quirking her red eyebrows in jest, "I'm great company."
The man huffs through a small, amused smirk, "you're not boring." Her captor sits down on the floor in front of her instead of staying in the same crouched position. At the curious glint in her eyes, he continues, "every time I think I know something about you, you prove me wrong."
"Like you're one to talk, Azgeda," the redhead asserts, letting her eyebrows jump around her face jokingly. "You're not actually taking me to the Queen, we're heading a lot further East than her royal low-ness would ever travel, even with that army leading the way."
"There are other buyers," the man confesses to her, "those who are willing to meet my price."
"Hmm," Myles hums distractedly, rolling her head against the harsh surface of the pillar to look away from him. Rolling her head to look back at him, "how much is Skaiku offering? Can't imagine they'd have anything worth your while there."
"They don't," he confirms dully, "not for someone who abandoned them."
A red eyebrow shoots up at his choice of words, but Myles doesn't deny them, "look at us, Azgeda. Branches of the same tree."
"Doubt that," the man replies harshly, his face scrunching up slightly as he mulls over the words. "You took the cowards way out."
"And not being loyal to the Ice Nation isn't doing that?" Myles counters, scrutinising the man in front of her. "Come on, Azgeda. We're both in disguise, living on the lamb, staying away from our people."
"I was banished," he refutes quietly, his voice and eyes hard with bitterness. "Nothing like you. You had a choice."
"Did I?" Myles quizzes, her red eyebrows furrowing. "I didn't in the mountain."
"You defeated our greatest enemy," the man argues, his face lax with his lack of understanding. "We suffered for many years, and you stopped that. Took that power, and ran."
"What your people see as power," the redhead divulges softly, "mine sees as weakness. What I did in the mountain had a great cost, and I'm trying to repay it."
"You can go back," her captor insists, "I can't. You're the way back home to my people."
Realisation dawns on Myles, and a knowing smile slowly creeps across her face. The expression gets a frustrated huff from the Azgedian in front of her, his brown eyebrows pulling together as his long brown hair shakes with the small movement of his head. Myles knows who this is, she and Jasper had heard the story of this man. A tragic tale of a son who was banished from his home and family as part of the agreement for the Ice Nation to join Lexa's Coalition.
"Oh, now… that's a twist," the red haired teen marvels, her delicate features lighting up brightly. Her captor hesitates, his reserved nature showing in the brief flash of uncertainty that dances across his face. Lifting her hands up, Myles opens the palm of her right hand for the man to shake. "Hainofa Roun kom Azgeda." [AN: "Prince Roan of the Ice Nation."]
Roan hesitates, looking from her hand to her gleeful hazel eyes before hesitantly reaching forward to shake her hand slowly. It's a strange and awkward gesture, one that he does more so out of uncomfortableness than respect. The knowledge of that doesn't make the bright look on Myles' face or the giddy jittering in her veins lessen any.
"Does that feed it?" Roan enquires mockingly, but his tone is twinged with curiosity. "Your craving for adventure?"
"It's getting there," Myles assures, "you know, we would already be at Polis if we'd followed the border instead of the river."
Huffing, Roan replies sarcastically, "I'll keep that in mind for next time."
Leaning her head back against the pillar, Myles thinks through the man's words. Roan is obviously very desperate to get to back to his people, and it would only make sense that he would deliver one of the most wanted people right now to her to get what he wants. The grounders believe that when they kill someone, they don't just take a life, but the power of a soul. Someone like Myles, who's taken many lives of people who have also taken many lives themselves, that's a lot of soul power.
It's no surprise Queen Nia of the Ice Nation wants her 'power', the already large expanse of land could easily overtake the surrounding clans if the people there truly believed their queen to have all of that power. What is mildly surprising and makes curiosity itch away at her mind is why Roan wouldn't kill her himself and use that 'power' to force the commander and his mothers hands? Surely, that would be a whole lot easier than escorting the redhead across the territory to bring her to Polis. The commanders soft spot for the Arkers would get in the way of her killing Myles, so there's only two reasons why Roan would think this would work.
One being that he simply doesn't understand the close working relationship the Arkers have with the commander. Lexa abandoned them at Mount Weather, but they still need to be allies and have maintained a mutually beneficial relationship, keeping one another in each other's good graces. The second reason is even simpler, and most probably the truth. Lexa sought out Roan to make him a deal for her. This would explain why he's taking her directly to Polis, why he's willing to kill his own people to get her there alive, and why he's so determined and eager. Why he thinks this will actually work in his favour, despite everything that's happened in the last three months.
"Who is it?" Myles questions softly after a quiet few moments, turning her eyes back to the man. Roan glances back at her, confusion fluttering through his brown eyes. "At home. Who you're trying to get back to." At his blank look, "it can't be your mother."
"How do you do that?" Roan queries instead, and another knowing smile crosses her face.
"I know people," the redhead supplies vaguely, before shrugging and adding. "And I've got someone, too. I left him behind."
"I would never leave her behind," Roan grumbles strongly, and Myles is sure his hard tone is meant to once again highlight their differences.
"What's her name?" Myles asks quietly, but all the Azgedian gives her in reply is a sharp look. Tipping her head, she offers, "if I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?" Roan doesn't answer her again, merely looking at her disinterestedly, "well, we're gonna be here for a while, we gotta pass the time somehow."
"Bellamy Blake," his name rolls off of the red haired teens tongue easily, and she can't help picturing the overwhelming looks of admiration and greed that would take over his sharp features whenever she'd say his name. "A king," scoffing a kind laugh to herself, "tall and handsome. It's the kind of love you don't realise is love right away. You feel it in your gut… it's heavy and whole and true." Hazel eyes stare at the fire as her skin tingles with memories that feel like distant dreams. "Makes you feel like you're drowning, but it feels so good you just can't stop."
"You left him," Roan's gruff voice reminds her, and sad hazel eyes flick back to his confused brown.
"I… saved him," Myles corrects slowly, smirking sadly. "You see, your highness, that cost… the cost of killing people – innocent people… that cost isn't just in the world, or in your soul." Keeping her sincere hazel eyes locked steadily on the man's, "it taints your heart. And Bellamy Blake, he's got enough heart to keep us all going… he doesn't deserve for his heart to be tainted by mine."
Roan's brown eyes are still on her, soaking in her words, "you were protecting him." Myles finally tears her eyes away at the words, pulling her knees up and resting her elbows on them to stare at her bound hands in front of her. It's silent for a moment, but then the Azgedian surprises Myles. "Michi reminds me there's more to life than war. That there is happiness, and… time."
"She sounds nice," Myles tells him, and his tense face relaxes slightly. "Hopefully this army hurries up and you can go home to her."
Something strange cloaks his face, his brown eyes leaving hers as they fall into an awkward silence.
All Myles can see through the sack on her head is dull and pale streams of light. She can feel her own harsh and hot breath huffing out through her gag, the repetitive sound mashing with the whispers of people around them. Her feet and legs ache as her stomach rumbles, not having any food and water today paired with the distance she's travelled is wearing her down. A door opens in front of her and the redhead silently pleads for this to be the end of her little adventure with the Prince.
"Wanheda," Roan calls out into the room, and Myles slows to a stop as her shoulders sag. "Kom ai don swega klin." [AN: "The Commander of Death, as promised."]
The hand Roan had been holding the back of her shirt with pushes her down, and the tired red haired teen obediently falls to her knees. His hand leaves her altogether to yank the sack off of her head. Myles' hazel eyes had adjusted to the muted lights shining through the fabric, and the abrupt blinding sunlight from the window behind Lexa's throne completely overtakes her vision. Blinking her eyes for a moment, her gaze sweeps up to the commander standing in front of her throne, Titus and Indra on either side of her. Jasper stands to her right, Max shifting anxiously by his feet, fidgeting as he watches the redhead worriedly.
"Hello, Myles," Lexa greets, and the redhead quickly replies through her gag.
"Yeah, yeah," Myles' muffled voice sounds like gibberish, even to her own ears.
Lexa slowly steps down from the platform her throne sits upon, before coming to a stop directly in front of the Arker. The commanders calculating eyes scan the redhead quickly, and hazel eyes flick to her best friend.
"The deal was for you to bring her to me unharmed," the commander hard and authoritative tone voices her displeasure.
"She kept it interesting," Roan's quick and snide words make the redhead snort obnoxiously.
A brief flutter of amusement shines in Lexa's brown eyes, "I'd expect so."
"I've done my part," the prince of Azgeda states, "now do yours. Lift my banishment."
"I'm told your mothers army marches on Polis," Lexa deflects, speaking as if she expects Roan to have the answers to the questions swirling around in her mind.
"That has nothing to do with me," Roan sneers, and Myles can feel the tension radiating off of him. "Honour our deal."
"I'll honour our deal when your queen honours my coalition," the commander refutes, before raising her voice to address the others in the room. "Lock Prince Roan Of Azgeda away."
Immediately, warriors step forward from their various places around the room to do as asked, and Myles can hear the group of men storming out of the room.
Titus looks from Myles to Lexa, "What now?"
"Leave us," Lexa dismisses, lifting her hands halfheartedly and Jasper takes this as his cue.
Her best friend is by her side in a moment, undoing the rope on her rubbed raw wrists and pulling the gag out of her dry mouth. Max rubs against her side, making small, high pitches whining sounds that break her heart. Both Indra and Titus walk around them to leave, the latter giving the redhead a snarky look. They've never gotten along, the man believing that the Arkers are more trouble than they're worth.
With her unbound, Jasper grips her arms and gently pulls her to her feet, with Max nudging at her, as if to help her up as well. Myles is unsteady on her feet, her tired and hungry body ready for the day to be over.
"Ready to go home?" Jasper asks her lightly, and the red haired teen all but falls into a puddle on the floor at the words.
"Very," Myles huffs, getting ready to turn around when a glance at Lexa stops her.
The commander clearly wants to say something, so the redhead waits, "I'm sorry."
"Nah," the redhead waves off, raking her fingers through her knotty red hair and relishing in the fact that the ends of her hair barely reach her shoulders. "I get it. Good plan."
"The Ice Queen has a plan of her own," Lexa informs her, and both Jasper and Myles' whole bodies shift to take on an almost predatory stance, as if they both expect the Queen's army to barrel through the door behind them. "I had to ensure Wanheda didn't fall into her hands. War is brewing." The commanders eyes flick between the two best friends, "You two have the biggest pull in the clans. I need you."
Hazel eyes lock on her best friends brown, both teens quirking an eyebrow up before looking back at Lexa.
"What do you need from us?" Jasper enquires, and Myles squints her eyes as she waits for the answer.
"More than I'm sure you're willing to do," Lexa answers vaguely, "that's why I'm offering something in return."
"Lexa," Myles' tone has a lilt of warning in it, her tired brain is already over the conversation. "Get on with it."
"I'm holding a peace summit for Skaikru in a weeks time," the Commander starts, and Myles is already shaking her head and turning away. "Myles."
"I'm not going to that," the redhead refuses, her voice hard and unshakeable.
Jasper's hand touches her arm, a silent warning to calm down, "I'll do it."
"I need you both there," Lexa counters, and Myles scoffs loudly in disdain. "They need to see faces they can trust, and you want to get Finn out of here. If you agree, he'll go home with you right now, and we'll consider it even."
Finn's name makes Myles stop. Hazel eyes stare at Lexa, sizing her up and making sure that she's being serious. The commanders expression never wavers, and Myles' eyes sweep over to Jasper's before she sighs heavily.
"Fine," the red haired teen caves, not bothering to hide her resentment of the deal. "What else?"
"All of the clans ambassadors will be there," Lexa divulges, "including the leaders for Arkadia. It is our goal to arrive at an agreement for a peace treaty, but I need to ensure the clans are happy."
"Are they not?" Jasper quizzes, sharing a worried look with Myles.
"Not all of them," the commander confirms, "I have received word that the ambassadors of Delfikru believe my decision to push the coalition for a peace treaty is weak. I would like you to show them that the Sky People are allies that we need, and can make us strong."
Hazel eyes meet Jasper's brown, and both teens convey a silent message through their eyes, before looking back at the commander.
"How?"
Myles and Jasper's boots march down the hallway, Max's little paws making cute clicking sounds with every step. The two warriors standing guard on either side of tall, dark brown wood doors look towards them when they hear the small group coming. Both men look at the two teens and their small dog approaching them and shift, recognising their familiar faces. By the time they reach them, the men open the doors for them and nod in greeting.
"Mochof," the redhead thanks them, smiling politely and slipping through the doors. [AN: "Thank you."]
"Chof," Jasper echoes, sticking by Myles' side. [AN: "Thanks."]
"Pro," they both return in kind, shutting the door behind them. [AN: "you're welcome."]
Instead of swerving towards the door to their left, where they normally go, the two teens stick to the right hand side of the room and walk through a singular door on the back wall. Trikru guards stand in there, sorting through the contents of Roan's bag and laying them out on the table. When the two teens pass through the doorframe, their heads snap up to them.
"Bida kom daunde laik ain," Myles informs them, slowing to a stop once they've entered the room. "En's ait taim osir hon emo in nau?" [AN: "Some of those are mine. Is it alright if we get them now?"]
One of the men shrugs, setting down one of the many knives from Roan's bag, "foshou. Oda kom em bilaik roubich, nami?" [AN: "Sure. Too much of it is trash."]
"Mochof," the redhead smiles, continuing forward and beginning the process of strapping on her weapons. [AN: "Thank you."]
Their eyes continue to watch her, seeming transfixed with her fluid motions. As she's strapping on the brace over her abdomen, Jasper leans against the table to slip weapons into the braces she hasn't attached yet.
"I can't believe you," her best friend chastises, and a bright smile breaks across Myles' face. "I'm being serious. It was a stupid plan."
"You went along with it," Myles replies, taking the ankle strap from his hand and securing it on her leg.
"Stupidly," Jasper huffs, and the redhead reaches for the one for her other leg. "You could've died."
"Buuuut I didn't," the red haired teen reminds him in an annoying, sing-song voice.
"Bellamy tried to march alongside the Azgeda army," at the information, Myles' hands still and her hazel eyes snap up to Jasper's. "Stole some clothes and left. I stopped him before he could do anything too crazy."
"You're joking," Myles deadpans, her still shocked hands slowly beginning to move again.
"Nope," Jasper denies, popping the 'p' while Myles straps on her last weapon, her seemingly intact fawb glove. "You two really are made for each other. He hasn't gotten over you. Or your haircut."
"He's better off," the redhead waves the words off, heading towards the door again and halfheartedly tossing another thank you over her shoulder.
Jasper and Max walk right by her side, slipping between two more warriors that guard the doorway on the left wall of the room and walking into the hallway of prison cells. Each cell is the same, most have bar covered windows, but they all have uncomfortable looking beds made of old, ratty blankets on the cold floor. Not much is inside many of them, obviously being designed to hold criminals and nothing more. They walk past several of them, before a man's voice makes them both halt.
"You're still alive," Roan states in bewilderment, and Myles steps up to his cell to lean her shoulder on the wall separating the prisoners cells.
"Sure am," Myles smirks, winking, "I tried to warn you, Azgeda. Apparently, Skaikru are important allies, so I've got some swing, but… I'll do what I can to get you home."
"There's only one way to do that," the Prince tells her in a low tone, making Jasper shift anxiously on his feet in the corners of her eyes. "Commander promised to lift my banishment if I delivered you safely. She broke our deal. I'm willing to strike a new one with you so we can both go home."
"I am home," the redhead corrects him softly, her eyebrows turned up in a sad expression.
"Then you won't have a chance to get what you really want," Roan tries, his voice sounding antsy and nervous.
Smiling sadly, Myles decides to humour the desperate man, "and what is that?"
"Bellamy Blake," the Prince insists, "she is the only one standing in the way of you repaying the cost of Mount Weather."
"No," the red haired teen answers simply, pity seeping through her features. "I won't kill her. That won't help either of us."
"If you do this," Roan persists, "Azgeda will take control of the coalition, and you'll find a strong and grateful ally in the Ice Queen."
"Will we?" Jasper pipes up as Myles tilts her head doubtfully, "from what we hear, your mother isn't fond of playing allies."
"That's because you've been talking to Lexa," the Prince urges, his brown eyes all but pleading the two Arkers. "Look. We're all trying to do what's right for our people. This is what's right for yours."
"I'm sorry, Azgeda," Myles laments, her eyebrows stuck in a worried frown. "If you believed that, you would've taken me to your queen. I'll see what I can do to get you home."
With that, Myles pushes off of the wall to continue down the cells until they reach the one they always come to. When he hears their footsteps approach, his head snaps up and all three smile at each other.
The physical changes Jasper's gone through in the last three months is nothing in comparison to Finn Collins. His hair is even shorter than Jasper's is now, which is only slightly longer than a buzz cut. Gone is his slender and somewhat stocky build, replaced with hard and toned muscles from continuous heavy, manual labour. Like Jasper, his movements and mannerisms are completely different, barely anything left of the carefree and relaxed motions of a rebellious teen.
"Hey," Finn smiles, walking up to the bars and crouching down to pat Max. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you guys today. Everything okay?"
"Sure is," Jasper reassures quickly, his tone happy and light as he pulls the keys from his pocket to unlock the door.
"I hope you've got all your shit in one place," Myles tells him coyly, and the brown haired teen stands up to give Jasper a bro-hug when he enters the cell.
"Why?" Finn asks, breaking away from Jasper after they pat each other on the back to give Myles her own tight hug.
Myles doesn't answer, only squeezes him really tight before pulling back and holding him at arms length by his upper arms. Jasper claps a hand down on his shoulder heavily, standing beside the redhead and matching her wide and happy smile. Max jumps up slightly to nudge his head into Finn's hand, encouraging the brown haired teen to bend over to the small dog and scratch at his ears.
"You're going home," Jasper beams, and the words take a short moment to register in Finn's head.
His hand stills in Max's calico coloured fur, his eyes and expression freezing as his head snaps sharply between them, "What?" Brown eyebrows pull together in confusion, but his tone is light and airy, knowing that the two teens with him wouldn't lie about this. "I've got eleven days left."
"Not anymore," Myles affirms happily, "you are a free man. You got anything in here you wanna take with you?"
"Yeah, uh…" Finn spins around, quickly collecting all of his books and clothes in his arms hastily. With his attention diverted, Max shifts to sit on Myles' boot as he flicks his head up against her and Jasper's legs for pats. Both teens comply, watching Finn rifle around excitedly. "What'd this cost you? Letting me off early?"
"Just one job," Jasper dismisses easily, crouching down to pat Max with both hands.
"One?" The brown haired teen repeats in shock, "just one?"
"Yeah," the redhead sighs, "but it's a doozy. The ambassadors from Delphi had some fancy relic stolen a week ago. It's probably long gone by now, but that's… not really the point of it."
"If finding it isn't the point of the job," Finn starts, straightening and heading back to them with his arms full. "Then what is?"
"The rover's out front," Jasper says lowly, gesturing to the door with both arms obnoxiously while Myles tries to pry some of the formerly titled Spacewalkers belongings from his arms. "We'll tell you there."