Day 147 – Feb. 6
The harsh and rapid thumping of her heart and the frantic breaths wracking her body against the ice cold metal table under her chills her to the bone. Thick metal cuffs clamped around her ankles, wrists and neck feel as though they tighten and pinch at her skin with every agonising second that ticks by with her struggling for her life. Bright white light glaring down at her swirls with the twisted figures of Bellamy Blake, Marcus Kane, her mother, Doctor Tsing and Green Eyes as they crowd around her with absolute loathing in their eyes. Menacing, warped sounds blend with the buzzing of a distant drill and the echoes of voices taunting her, destroying all of her self-worth and crushing any shred of hope she had left.
Her body is in excruciating pain. Blazing fire burns through her left thigh and her abdomen, a steady and piercing ache throbbing through her chest, head, and legs. Cold air brushes through the holes in her head, the heavy metal frame weighing her skull down with a force that the holes in her head only amplify. Thick gunk and dried blood covers her barely dressed body, the tattered dark green tank top, her underwear and her socks doing nothing to keep her injured and dying body warm.
She's shaking uncontrollably, jittering violently against the cool metal slab. Despite the freezing chill in the air, sweat glistens over her skin, dripping onto the icy table she's pinned to. Each breath is hard and short, her body in too much pain to take a full breath, every slight movement sending blinding agony through every inch of her. The world swirls and shifts, faces morphing and slurring in front of her very eyes.
"Why'd you do it?" Her mother's sad voice begs of her, and Myles tries to turn her head dizzily to the woman but can't, the weight of the metal frame screwed into her skull keeping her still. The cool feel of all four of the screws grind hotly and vividly in her head, and Myles isn't sure if it's because they're inside of her bone and flesh or if it's the hair they drilled through carelessly. "Why'd you kill me?" A guttural noise bubbles from her shivering and wheezing lips in reply to her mother as her hazel eyes squeeze closed. "I wanted to live. I wanted a chance, and you took that from me."
Her jittering body convulses with a barely contained sob, sending white hot pain through her tired and destroyed body.
"If I never had you," her mother's hard voice asserts, and the redhead tries to scrunch her eyes closed even harder, as if it could make the hallucination disappear. The skin pulls against the holes in her head, and Myles swears she can feel the skin tearing. "I'd still be alive. I could've remarried and been happy." Desperate gasping cripples Myles as forceful sobs constrict her burning lungs, but the pain is starting to feel distant and muffled, making Myles feel dizzy. The redhead doesn't realise she's opened her eyes, instead finding her unfocused gaze locked on the only thing in the room that isn't blurry; her mother. No one else is in sight, only the auburn-haired woman she misses so dearly. "I could've had a daughter that wasn't so worthless," her mother sneers, her delicate features twisting into a look of bitter disdain. "I could've had a child who made me happy, made me want to stay."
Myles opens her mouth, her lips and tongue moving and her throat vibrating with words that the redhead can't hear, words that don't join her mother's echoing taunts. Her mother pushes off of the wall she was leaning against, stomping across the floor quickly with her arm raised. The sight of her mother storming towards her with the intent to slap her is so strange and unfamiliar that the red-haired teens stomach drops, the feeling so deep and real that it makes her nauseous. Still, she doesn't flinch, not until the woman is mere inches from her and her features shift drastically.
Wavy, auburn hair shortens rapidly, darkening to black and taking on the short haircut of her father's. Her mother's soft and delicate features become sharp and stoney, a scar running through one eyebrow. The sight of her father storming towards her with his arm raised is so familiar and terrifying, even now with all she's been through, that her whole body jolts despite the restraints and the pain in a desperate attempt to scramble away.
It doesn't register straight away that her head moves freely now to look away and scrunch closed her eyes. The heavy weight of the frame gone, leaving only a sharp and persistent throbbing where all five holes are. The ice cold air and the blood trickling from her head accentuates the ache, making it feel as if her brain is slowly melting and pouring from the large burr hole in the back of her head.
"You killed us all," Bellamy Blake's voice states dully, but Myles can't bring herself to open her eyes again. "'No one could ever love a girl with red hair'."
"I took you in as my own," Marcus Kane jibes, and pitiful sobs jar her agitated wounds. "And this is how you repay me? Your father was right about you."
"'Nothing but a lost cause'," Bellamy quotes the man he's never met, spitting the words out venomously.
Myles' mouth moves rapidly, the urgent pleas disappearing before they can even exit her throat. Nothing comes out, but that doesn't stop her from desperately begging for it all to stop.
It does. The room falls silent, only the slurring sound of the buzzing drill and a distantly barking dog bouncing around the small room. Hazel eyes are too fearful of it starting up again to open until pressure is felt on her left arm. Snapping her wide and terrified eyes open, the redhead comes face to face with Green Eyes, Doctor Tsing's assistant. Doctor Tsing leans over her right side, both adults with their hands pressing Myles down on the table. Pure, vicious panic claws through her insides when Doctor Tsing lifts a drill, and Myles' desperate pleading is drowned out by the deafening and screeching buzz of the drill turning on and the loud whine of a dog.
She's so familiar with it, with all the pain that device has done to her, remembers it so vividly and still feels the pain so vividly, that the tool doesn't even need to reach her skin for her to start screaming. It's like she can feel it before it ever touches her, and she thrashes her agonised body around hopelessly under their hold. Another voice flutters through the chaos, echoing in her mind with the words of everyone else, but Myles is too focused on the drill burring into her chest to pay attention to understanding the words overlapping in the air.
Doctor Tsing removes the drill to grab a large needle to extract the bone marrow, and when she brings the needle to her chest to force it through the burr hole and into the drilled bone, Myles flings her arm up unrestrictedly to grasp it. The woman's hands grip both of Myles' wrists firmly, but not harshly, as the teen brings the needles point to the doctor's neck. Her mouth moves, and Jasper Jordan's voice leaves Doctor Tsing's lips.
"Not real," her best friend's calm voice tries to get through to her. "Not real, Aggie." Myles doesn't feel like she's lying on a cold metal table anymore, her knees instead on the cushioning of a bed, and when she blinks her eyes, she sees Jasper in her room under her hands and not Doctor Tsing. "Not real."
Myles doesn't remember sitting up. Doesn't remember pinning Jasper to her bed and holding one of her knives to his throat. She doesn't remember Clarke being there, pale as a ghost as she watches on in panic. In fact, she doesn't remember seeing anything that wasn't this. It's like the change from Mount Weather to their home was so subtle and slow that she doesn't even recognise a difference. Her mind is still stuck in the mindset of her time in Mount Weather, the overwhelming and visceral sense that this is just another hallucination being the only reality that the redhead can grasp onto. What's real and what's not real isn't so black and white anymore, everyone's faces keep changing and everyone keeps saying things, is this so different? She just can't get past waiting for Jasper and Clarke to morph back into Doctor Tsing and Green Eyes.
"Not real," Jasper says again, his voice calm and his eyes non-judgmental. "Rule fifty-four, Aggie. Rule fifty-four."
The words make Myles blink blankly again, her grip falling slack as the words turn over in her head. When had they made the rules? After Mount Weather? Jasper's hands quickly grab the knife when his best friend loosens her grip, putting it back on her nightstand before rubbing his hands up her arms comfortingly. Weight shifts behind her, and their calico coloured dog leans his weight against Myles' side.
"Good," the brown-haired teen soothes, sitting up slowly to not spook her. "It's okay. It's not real."
"What's rule fifty-four?" Clarke asks quietly, leaning forward to rest a hand on Myles' upper arm.
Myles looks down at her hands, watching as they start to shake more and more. Her mind is swimming, being tugged roughly between different realities, and her sluggish brain is confused at why she's feeling the lingering ghost of the pain she was in during the dream if it wasn't real. Max's head bumps against her hands, high-pitched whines escaping his throat as he rubs his side and head against the redhead incessantly to calm her.
"Tell her, Aggie," Jasper encourages, clasping his hand around hers when hazel eyes remain glued to her shaking hands. "What's rule fifty-four?"
"'Start with what you know is true'," Myles' hoarse voice cracks out, bringing her hands that are held in Jasper's to her head to feel for the holes that were once there.
She doesn't find what she's looking for. Instead, she feels that her hair isn't at her ass anymore; it barely brushes over her shoulders. The holes aren't there, only the smooth and slightly concaved skin of healing scars and the short hair that's started to grow over where they had shaved for the burr hole. Hazel eyes flick around rapidly as her breathing becomes fast and erratic, the knowledge that it wasn't real and hasn't been for months crashing into her.
Jasper says something else, but Myles can't hear it over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears at the familiar sight of her room. The only difference to every other night is Clarke's jacket now hangs over the seat by her desk, and her boots sit on the floor near hers. She's not there, and that simple fact sends the redhead on a whirlwind of panic. It felt so real, so vivid, so visceral, and it wasn't. Her legs are moving her off of the bed before she can register it or tell them not to, and her dizzy and lightheaded steps send her crashing into the wall.
Both Jasper and Clarke are right in front of her again, crouched down to her level now that she's on the floor and this time they're trying to calm her breathing down. Max tries to force himself between the two teens, ducking down to wriggle his head under their crouched knees. Myles can't hear the sounds any of them make, can't feel Max's wet nose brush against her ankle. She can only hear the drill and feel the nonexistent ache that's still present in her body from her nightmare.
One of Jasper's hands is on the back of her head, being careful to avoid the spot of the burr hole and Clarke cradles her cheeks. Their mouths move but Myles can't hear them, only the sound of her own muffled and harsh breaths taking over the drill. The only thing she can focus on is the feeling of her thundering heartbeat under their touches and how it's overwhelmingly hard pounding must feel to them.
"Aggie," Jasper distantly booms, forcing her hazel eyes to lock on his brown as her vision stutters. "Start with what you know is true."
"My," Myles starts, her voice hiccupping through her gasps, the tightness choking her lungs not loosening as she speaks. "My name is Agniesźka Mylinski."
"Good," Clarke praises, her worried eyebrows knitted together. "What else?"
"I was – I was born," the redhead continues, squeezing her eyes shut and swallowing dryly over the lump in her throat. "On September fourteenth. I'm 18 years old." Myles' breathing is calmer now, and she can focus on more than just her heart rate. "We're on Earth." Locking her gaze on Jasper's, her best friend merely quirks a brown eyebrow and nods his head subtly, both his and Clarke's hands rubbing reassuringly over her clammy skin. Slowly, her muscles begin to unclench and relax. "I have red hair."
When she doesn't keep going, Jasper merely nods silently, knowing that at this moment in time, that's all she's truly sure of.
"That's okay," Jasper soothes, "Good. You're okay."
Her best friend shifts, and Max instantly uses it to his advantage. Shoving through the small gap between Jasper and Clarke, Max's paws scratch gently at Myles' raised knees. Quickly stopping the pointless action, the dog clambers over her knees altogether to stand over them and force himself in her lap. Myles lowers her knees slightly, and Max shifts, resting the top of his head against the bottom half of the redhead's face.
Clarke breathes out a short laugh, moving one of her hands to scratch at the dog's back and sliding the other from Myles' face to her shoulder. Jasper hooks his arm around his best friend's shoulders, sitting on the ground beside her instead of awkwardly squatting down. Bringing her terribly shaking hands down from her temples, the red-haired teen merely rests them on the shaggy dog's fur and he shifts anxiously again. Rubbing his face against hers and shuffling on his paws before stilling again and keeping his head against hers.
Hazel eyes are still stuck on the spot where Jasper was crouching down, numbness creeping into her veins. Whether it's from the panic attack, or from the sudden lack of pain, Myles doesn't know, and she can't find the will to bring her mind to try to figure it out. Time blurs together, the world becoming nothing more than an empty pit of white noise. Max shifting his weight from the redheads lap and Jasper and Clarke's hands trying to pull Myles to her feet makes her mind switch back on for a moment.
"Come on," Clarke urges kindly, her gentle hands carefully helping guide her to her shaky feet. "Let's go back to bed."
Myles doesn't remember walking over there, just somehow making it to her bed and lying down on it. Clarke crawls over her legs to get to the side she was sleeping on, kindly tugging the blanket up as Max jumps up onto the bed with them. It was crowded when it was only her and Clarke, but with Max there now, it's overwhelming to Myles' frayed and frazzled senses.
Ray's still staying in Monty's room, the guest room that both teens had envisioned their third best friend to occupy. The few hours they had home yesterday before Clarke called them over the radio they'd spent tearing down a wall in their maze of a treehouse. They'd barely begun to gather up the wood for the framework of his own room when they had to stop, and unless Clarke wants to sleep on the couch in front of an open wall in winter, there's nowhere else for her to go.
"I'll go get a blanket," Jasper murmurs, dragging Myles' distracted mind to the present again.
Jasper returns a moment later, a pillow and blanket in his hands. Dumping them both on the ground beside the bed, the brown-haired teen lays down on the ground and reaches an arm up to hold on to Myles'.
Hours tick by with them just like that. Max lying sprawled across both girls as both Clarke and Jasper fall asleep through easy and muttered conversations. It all slurs together for Myles, the numbness taking over for chunks of time and only allowing the redhead moments in between to participate in her friend's conversations. A vicious tug-of-war game plays out in her emotionally drained mind, her awareness of reality being pulled and toyed with mercilessly.
It shocks Myles when she next becomes aware of her surroundings. It's silent, only the melodies of three deep and slow breaths keeping her company. Turning her head to look at Clarke, the blonde is asleep beside her, her worries for Arkadia being forgotten in favour of calming sleep. Leaning up on her elbows, Max perks up from his dozing position across both girls' legs and looks up at her. Reaching her hand out to scratch at his fur fondly, hazel eyes glance down to Jasper's hand resting next to her arm. Peeking over the edge of her bed, Jasper lays asleep on the ground with only a pillow and a blanket to make up his bed.
Sighing heavily, the redhead can't help feeling claustrophobic and carefully sits up fully. When she slides her legs out from under Max, the dog stands and jumps to the ground by Jasper, already sensing the red-haired teens sleeplessness. Slowly and quietly swinging her legs to the ground and standing, Myles pads across her bedroom floor with her sock-clad feet, making her way to her boots and grabbing her fawb glove off of the desk.
With one eye closed, Myles looks through the small jagged piece of thick glass wrapped in a wire that connects to a frame that sits around her head. The glass magnifies the inside of the vambrace she's looking at in her hands, making the leather she's just poked a hole in appear significantly bigger. Forcing the small lazily squashed and moulded eyelet through the hole, Myles flips the vambrace over to rest the homemade metal clasp on a hard stone, vaguely shaped like a block. Placing the hole of the equally as messily made stud over the prong of the eyelet, the red-haired teen reaches for a skinny metal cylinder and holds it against one side of the small metal clasp.
Grabbing a hammer with her right hand, Myles bashes the top of the skinny metal cylinder to pinch the leather in the bottom half of the clasp. Banging it once more before switching sides and repeating the process to carefully secure it in place. When she's sure it's in place, Myles drops the hammer and metal cylinder onto the table to lift the leather and tug at it, inspecting it with her magnifying lens to make sure it won't tear or come loose. It looks to be evenly hammered in, and it doesn't budge when she yanks at the leather so she reaches for the ammo cartridge she's made.
The old one was made of cloth and leather to wrap around her forearm with all the small arrows shoved inside. In order to get all of the arrow-darts in place and ready to use, Myles and Jasper would have to insert the arrows individually once the brace was already secured to their arm. It was designed to be flexible and not restrict the arms movement, but it only proved to be a hassle when reloading and gearing up. This is different, taking several extended pistol magazines and dissecting them to make it all work.
Her idea to use an ammo mag had seemed great in theory, though, in practice it had required quite a bit of dicking around. Most of the mags long enough to hold the darts and the spring mechanisms to push them out in the right order had to be extended magazines, but almost all of the extended mags they've found were curved. Obviously, this wouldn't have worked at all, especially if they wanted more than one row of arrows.
So, Myles cut them up and attached the 'walls' of the mags to leather so she could easily access the mechanisms to either improve them in the future or fix any problems that may arise. It's bulkier than the last wrap-around arrow holder, the rectangular shape jutting out ever so slightly and the outline of it being visible on her long sleeve. Fortunately, it doesn't feel heavier when she picks it up, although it is currently empty. Leather straps wrap around the length of it, designed so the buckles can be secured on only one side of the contraption, without obstructing them when opening it up. One strap lines the inside of the mag, reaching from the spring mechanisms to the top of the small leather cartridge to protect a cord that'll fire the darts.
Clipping the arrow-dart cartridge back together into its rectangular shape, the redhead lines the rod that extends the length of the mag to the two bar holders that connect to the arrow trolley. A light sounding click sounds from the vambrace and Max stands from his spot by the Arker's boots to stare intently towards the entrance. Myles presses the four homemade snap fasteners together to clasp the ammo mag to the vambrace and reaches around to buckle the straps so the back of the mag isn't flapping around.
Sounds echo through the rocky walls of the secluded cave she's in and Max huffs happily, trotting excitedly to greet Jasper and Clarke as they walk deeper into the cave. This place is not like their house, which reaches across the treetops of several trees, but underground. They had wanted a place where they could mess around with a bunch of things while minimising the amount of sound they emitted, and they found the perfect place. The hollow, rocky hole Myles is in is connected to a deep cave they found, and when venturing deep inside of it, they discovered that it hooks around and goes underground.
It had taken a couple days to find a discreet spot to start digging a slim entrance to it, like Lincoln had, and once they had, they'd boarded up a wall that leads to the cave above ground. The drop to get into it is slightly shorter than Lincoln's cave, and it doesn't open up for a couple metres, meaning anyone would have to stay hunched over for a minute before they can stand up straight. On the bright side, it means that it's easier to get in and out of, even if they were injured.
"Morning," Clarke calls happily, a smile plastered on her face while she pats Max.
"Hey," Jasper greets, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting into the room. Hazel eyes glance up over the small magnifier after Myles pulls the leather mag from her vambrace to slide the arrows into it. Humming distractedly over the clicks the arrows make as they slip past part of the mechanism to keep the arrows firing in order and when she wants them to. Looking back down at the mag to make sure the springs are staying tight and in place, Myles doesn't even notice her best friend walk up to her until a steaming mug is placed on the table in front of her. "Thought you'd be here when I couldn't find you in the house."
The red-haired teen only hums again in reply, too focussed on her task for his words to register.
"This place is awesome," the blonde breathes, her blue gaze sweeping the section of the cave they're in and all of their things. "Are those paintings?"
"Yeah," Jasper answers, watching her and pointing at some before quirking an eyebrow playfully. "Can you tell which ones are mine?"
Clipping the mag shut again, Myles flicks her gaze over the magnifier to them and takes a swig of her hot coffee.
"They're all beautiful," Clarke says coyly, taking a sip of her drink and screwing up her face at the bitter taste. "Where'd you get the paint?"
"We made it," Myles supplies, sliding her wrist into the fawb glove and nodding at Jasper when he looks to her. "Thanks for the coffee."
"No problem," he brushes off easily, halfheartedly pointing at the vambrace. "What'd you do to it?"
"Improved it," the redhead boasts, pulling the wire that's tucked away and looped around a small knob in the strap that protrudes from the ammo magazine. Hooking it up and around the gear that shifts when she pulls the rod to reload. "Ready?" Pointing her closed fist to the chunk of wood they use as a practice board. "Clarke, fire in the hole."
Clarke whips her head around to her and instinctively steps back. Myles pulls the rod along her pointer finger down and presses it down in her fist to reset the arrows, before repeating the action to shoot. Nothing fires, but Myles could feel it shift and hear the click of the arrow locking in place on the trolley. Red eyebrows furrow, and she pulls her arm back to her to look at what's happened.
"How long are we s'posed to be ready?" Jasper goads jokingly, and Myles unhooks the wire that's somehow twisted on the gear that turns when she presses the rod to her palm.
Lifting her fist again, Myles repeats the action of shifting the rod and the arrow fires, lodging in the wood. Clarke jumps in shock.
"Whoa!" Clarke marvels, and Myles clicks the rod back. "How'd you do that?"
"Her wristbow," Jasper supplies as the redhead states, 'our fawb glove'.
Unclipping the rectangular magazine and holding it up for Jasper to see, "no more manually reloading after we've strapped it."
"That's awesome," her best friend praises, reaching out and inspecting the mag as Clarke walks up to the arrow. "How many did you make?"
"Just the one," Myles grimaces, leaning back in her chair and taking the magnifier off of her head. "Took three extended pistol mags, though."
Jasper lets out a long breath, "does it need that much?"
"No," the red-haired teen admits, seeing Clarke go back to being transfixed with the paintings. Her gentle hand reaches out to feel the dried substance colouring the thin wooden pallets. Rolling her head to glance back at Jasper, "but I'd already come to terms with using them. Any solid scrap would do it, just needs it straight to keep it stabilised."
"How long did it take you?" Jasper enquires, putting his mug down to turn Myles' arm over and clip it back onto the vambrace.
"Not long," Myles dismisses, gesturing out the curved rock wall of the cave. "I spent a while cutting up a fuck-tonne of wood. We've got everything we need to make enough of Ray's room for him to sleep in it, but he'll be cold as shit."
"Sweeeeeeeet," the brown-haired teen drawls out, both teens lifting their hands before high-fiving themselves.
Hazel eyes watch the blonde be fixated on the paintings for a moment more, "we've got paint in the third drawer." Clarke turns in acknowledgment to the redhead, "you should paint something."
"We've gotta get to Polis," Jasper interjects, "it's almost sunup."
"Yeah," the blonde agrees, reluctantly walking away from the paintings. "I'm only good at drawing, anyway. I wouldn't even know what to do."
"If you can draw," Myles asserts confidently, "you can paint, and you sure as hell can draw."
"I can't do either," Jasper points out goofily, earning him an indignant slap from Myles, "and you still said they're both beautiful. It doesn't matter if they're any good, it's fun. Especially if you've been drinking."
The two warriors open both tall doors in front of Myles and escort her inside. It's a drastic change from the last two weeks, gone are the indecent must haves, given strictly for survival, only extravagant luxuries in their place. A tall ceiling that holds several chandeliers with lit candles keeps the open air sweet and lit. Overdone furniture with cushioning and vibrant, glaring colours litter throughout the beautiful room.
"Maiyls kom Skaikru," one of the guards introduces loudly, stopping a couple steps into the room and the man he speaks to turns from his terrace overlooking Polis. "Ai Haihefa." [AN: "Myles of the Sky People, my King."]
"Mochof," Roan commends, stepping towards them slowly. "Beja, bants osir." [AN: "Thank you. Please, leave us."]
The men obediently turn around and leave, closing the door behind themselves. Myles keeps her eyes locked on the Ice Nation King's, the curious glint in her eyes mirrored in his.
"I'm surprised you're still here," Myles starts, flicking her gaze around his room fleetingly. "But I guess an upgrade like this could even tempt a king."
"And yet," Roan drawls out, his gruff voice carrying a light inflection, "you still came to see me." The reminder of why she's here makes her drop her gaze in regret and hold on to her left wrist anxiously. Immediately sensing the shift in atmosphere, the king drops his bantering demeanour. "What's happened?"
"I'm afraid this isn't a visit, your majesty," the redhead divulges, meeting his eyes again and hoping he can somehow know why she's here so she doesn't have to speak the words aloud. He doesn't, his brown eyes squinting in question at her nervous fiddling. "I've come to ask something of you."
"Well," the King forces a smirk, "it's a good thing I stayed, then." Myles doesn't continue; the guilt creeping up inside of her eats away her words. "Come on. Spit it out."
"Would you…" Myles finds herself losing her words again and diverts her eyes so that she can't see the look on his face when she asks what she needs to. "Would you grant us permission to borrow your mother's body?"
It's silent for a moment, but Myles can't bring herself to look up again.
"You're not looking at me," Roan states, and Myles can't read his gruff tone.
Huffing a nervous laugh, "I feel like it's crossing a line. Like a really big line and I'm crossing it with really big steps."
"Look at me," the king demands, and hesitant hazel eyes start to choppily ascend to his. His brown eyes flick between her two hazel, noting the guilt swimming in them. It reminds him of when she had asked for permission to kill his mother, and it strikes him today even more than it had the day before. "Can I ask something of you?"
A shocked laugh belts out of her, "whatever you need to, Amin." [AN: "Your Highness."]
"Why did you tell me about your father?" Roan asks, his tone firm but curious, as if the question had been plaguing his mind all night.
Myles flinches at the question, the amount her father and the scars he's left her with has come up in the last year feels overwhelming. It's almost like he's here, still breathing down her neck and making her feel like she's a hostage, instead of a human. Roan watches the movement, unsatisfied curiosity oozing from his pores.
"I – uh…" Myles deflects, sparing a glance back up at him to make sure he's serious and not another hallucination lingering from the night before. A determined fire burns behind his brown eyes and her hazel find themselves stuck to them as her words run through her mind quickly, desperately scrambling for a way to explain it. Tearing her gaze away and looking anywhere but at him. "Where I come from, where we lived, it was like this building. Like a kingdom, but made up of twelve parts."
"When we came down," the red-haired teen continues through a deep sigh, looking back up at him with a tired expression and a shrug. "We came down on eleven of those parts. We know where four of them landed. Arkadia is one, there are two others in Trigeda and the one in Azgeda." Roan looks at her expectantly when she stops again, and Myles' left arm jitters anxiously. "My dad was on one of the seven parts we haven't found yet."
"He's still alive?" Roan demands, his brown eyebrows falling down low to match his aggressive tone.
"I protected him," Myles admits haltingly, her eyes leaving his for a moment, but when they meet his again, recognition flitters amongst the slew of other emotions.
The king asks the only question left on his mind, "why?"
"I, uh…" the redhead deflects, her gaze bouncing around the room, "I don't know what your relationship with your mother was like before she banished you…" Her teary eyes get stuck on the intensity of his waiting gaze, "but if I found out that he died – I – it'd – it'd crush me." Tears completely cloud her vision before a hot tear rolls down Myles' cheek and she quickly swipes it away. Nodding her head with small and rapid motions, "he's the only family I have left. He's all I have left."
She's still nodding for a moment after the last word leaves her rosy lips, as if she's trying to convince herself of her own words. It's quiet for a moment, and Roan's pitying and grieving eyes flick down to watch her throat when she swallows to try to steady herself.
"You can take my mother," Roan announces softly, and the sharp change of conversation throws Myles for a second.
"Wha – " Myles blanches, red eyebrows drawing together, "you don't want to know why I need her?"
"No, just," the King lifts a hand to hold out awkwardly in the air between them. "Just bring her to Azgeda when you're done."
"Of course," the red-haired teen vows, sincerity and guilt cloaking her features. "I'll bring her back to you as soon as possible, safely and in the exact same condition."
Thick fog dances slowly over the vibrant tree tops in the winter morning air. The pace they're going is easy, merely walking their horses down the grass path. Bushes and trees have been chopped back, leaving them a wide passage through the Earth. Lexa and Clarke ride two horses in front of the two best friends, the four of them and a carriage carrying Queen Nia's body are they only ones on horses. Guards walk with them in pairs of two, two pairs marching in front of Lexa and Clarke, one behind the two best friends and one behind the carriage.
It's eerily silent, the thick atmosphere rivalling the denseness of the fog. Soft and slow thumps of their horses hooves and the huffs and neighs the animals emit are they only things keeping them company. Clarke and Lexa talk quietly, too quietly for the two teens behind them to understand a word that they say. Whatever conversation they're having seems to make the tension in the air around them twinge sweetly, the mutual attraction that's clearly felt by the two of them being voiced in only their body language.
Seeing Lexa at the summit, going to her last night about Arkadia and riding alongside of her today has shown Clarke that the commander isn't as heartless as she tries to portray herself. It's bittersweet that, amongst all this chaos, the two have fallen for each other. The sight of the two quickly becoming close reminds Myles of Bellamy, and her dread-filled mind becomes consumed with thoughts of him and Arkadia.
Jasper instantly notices the shift in her demeanour and turns his head to look at his best friend.
"You don't have to go, either," the brown-haired teen tells Myles, and the redhead flicks her vacant gaze to him.
"One of us has to," Myles sighs, her sagged and lax posture jolting slightly with the horse's movement.
Clarke turns her head to them with her blonde eyebrows furrowed, "you two don't want to go home?"
"It's not home," Jasper huffs out snidely, shaking his head and looking at the trees that pass by his side.
"It's different for us, princess," the redhead smirks sadly, and Lexa turns her head to look back at the two Arker's behind her. "When we left, it had a different name. We were different."
"You left a hero to your people," the commander asserts strongly, "and you return one. The mountain slayer returns with more than supplies, you return with the body of the Ice Queen. You bring them justice."
"We didn't kill her," Myles corrects Lexa, swallowing through the lump in her throat. "You bring them justice, I only bring nightmares."
Pity crosses the commanders face, her tone becoming firm with her next words, as if trying to get the redhead to believe them herself.
"We bring them peace," the conviction in Lexa's tone makes Myles' hazel eyes sweep up to lock on her brown.
Content that the words have struck a chord, the commander faces back in front of her. The words echo in the redheads mind, but dread still sits heavily in her gut. Quickly becoming distracted again, Myles doesn't switch back on until Jasper knocks his boot against hers. Looking up at him, her best friend nods to Lexa and Clarke, and Myles watches as they look at each other with soft expressions and fond smiles.
Quirking her red eyebrows playfully at Jasper, the teen swallows a laugh that threatens to bubble from his throat.
"Heda!" One of the guards at the very front shouts in warning, and all of the guards ready their weapons and charge forward. [AN: "Commander!"]
Myles digs her heels in and pulls on the reins for her horse to come to a stop behind the commander and Clarke, her skinny frame sliding off of the saddle before the horse can even fully halt. Her hazel eyes are glued to the carnage in front of them, mesmerised in horror. She can hear her boots drag across the dirt as she slowly approaches the hundreds of bodies laying where the peacekeeping army had been stationed.
Jasper jumps off of his horse to stand by Myles' side for only a moment, and then he steps down the slight decline to walk amongst the bodies. Clarke's gasping breaths are heard clearly through the silence that fills the group, and Myles' boots find themselves wandering up to her best friends. Hazel eyes scan for any sign of movement in the bodies, any sign of life, but they don't find anything other than unseeing eyes, dried blood and large hordes of flies.
Bending down to crouch amongst the bodies, her gaze sweeps across the hours old wounds. Dread and regret fill her, and her eyes haltingly flick up to meet Lexa's wide brown. As if feeling her gaze, the commander meets her gaze and goes rigid, seeing the look in the Arker's eyes. Flies buzz around her face noisily, but her eyes remain locked on the commander's.
Myles' throat feels tight when she speaks, "they're all bullet wounds."
All the air in Clarke's lungs leaves in one powerful puff, her breath clouding in front of her. Lexa clenches her jaw, sliding off of her horse.
"Chek gon kika au!" Lexa booms out, stalking forward to help pick through the bodies. [AN: "Check for survivors!"]
The red-haired teen stands, walking carefully amongst the carnage and scouring every bullet ridden and blood soaked body for signs of life. Smoke plumes rise from the ground somewhere to her right from a fire that was recently put out, and large puddles of blood melt into the muddy ground. Not a single one of their weapons have been tainted with blood, no scrapes or cuts on their hands from fighting back. None of these people fought back.
Nausea fills Myles' stomach at the sight of all of these people's faces, of those she knew the names of, the families of, and those she only saw in passing when dropping off supplies. They were sent here to protect Arkadia, and they're all littered with bullets for it. Every single one of these people volunteered to protect Myles and Jasper's people because they got to know them, got to trust them, and felt like they owed the two teens for keeping them well fed and clothed during winter. Automatic rifles mowed them all down mercilessly, and they never had a chance to fight back. Venturing further, hazel eyes almost miss the slight twitch of movement to her right. Snapping her head up, Myles couldn't even slow her careful steps down if she wanted to at the sight of a badly wounded but alive Indra.
Indra lies against a log, looking like she scrambled backwards as far as she could when she was wounded to avoid the onslaught of bullets. She's silent, but her chest rises and falls quickly with laboured breaths. When she hears the redheads steps approaching, she tries to look towards her and she grunts lowly in pain.
"Indra," Myles greets, falling to her knees on the blood soaked muddy dirt. "Ai na sis yu au, nami? Ste gonen." Leaning over and pulling off her shoulder pad to inspect her wounds and apply pressure to them. "Heda! Clarke! Get your asses over here!" Indra grunts at the pressure on her wounds, and Myles slips her hand around her back to feel for an exit wound. "Sorry, I need to slow the bleeding." [AN: "Indra. I'm gonna help you, okay? Hold on. Commander!"]
"Yu en Kein don nowe set klin kom emo," Indra pants out tiredly as heads snap towards the red-haired teen. [AN: "You and Kane never belonged with them."]
"Kei, yu get in chit emo biyo," Myles shrugs, "hou bilaik weron tombom kamp raun." [AN: "well, you know what they say. Home is where the heart is."]
"That's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard," the dark-skinned woman declares weakly through her groans, and Myles barks out a laugh as several sets of steps rush up to them.
"Indra!" Lexa calls out, coming to kneel in the mud on her other side.
"Heda," Indra replies breathily, trying to push herself up on her elbows.
"Nope," Myles stops her, holding her down, "uh-uh, stay still."
"What's the damage?" Jasper asks, hovering over the red-haired teens shoulders while Clarke kneels down beside Lexa to search for other wounds.
"Two through and through," the redhead rattles off, hearing Jasper pull open the bag hanging from his shoulder. "Both missed the brachial artery and nerves. I can't tell if there's any splintering or fractures of the bone. Can you wiggle your fingers for me?"
Indra does as told, and Clarke sighs in relief, "missed the neck of the humorous." Spinning to take the gauze Jasper holds out, Clarke leans over the warrior. "Use the bandage – "
"Ugh!" Indra grunts loudly from the pain of suddenly trying to pull away from the blonde-haired teen's hands. Myles and Lexa immediately try to hold the woman still. "Stay away. You're one of them."
"Indra, teik em sis au," the commander urges, and Indra's brown eyes look at her doubtfully, but her movements cease. [AN: "Indra, let her help."]
"Okay, Indra," Myles starts, letting Clarke's hands hold the gauze to the wound as she leans back to feel her blood covered gloved fingers down Indra's arm gently. "I'm gonna need you to make a fist and shake it side to side, just a little."
Indra's shaky hand makes a tight fist and she wriggles it side to side slightly, and relief floods through Myles. The woman is still panting short and loud breathes in pain, her body trembling as uncontrollable grunts and groans fall from her lips.
"Good," the redhead praises, nodding to herself. "That's just the way we want it to be."
Jasper crouches down, "what's that mean?"
"The scapula and acromion are intact," Myles supplies, reaching back to grab more gauze and hold it awkwardly to the exit wounds.
"And there's minimal ligament damage," Clarke continues, looking Indra in the eye. "You're lucky."
"Indra," Lexa coaxes, her tone and expression twisted with disdain. "What happened here?"
"They attacked while we slept," Indra answers breathlessly, making all three Arker's deflate visibly. "Our watch was to the north, looking for Azgeda. They killed our archers first." Myles is shaking her head to herself, wracking her brain for how this could've happened after the army was arrested. "Our infantry couldn't get close. Then they executed the wounded."
"Uncle Marcus would never let this happen," Myles insists, locking eyes with Lexa's fiery brown.
"He wouldn't," the warrior agrees, looking almost offended by the idea that anyone could think this was Marcus Kane's doing. "It wasn't Kane. It was Pike."
Both Myles and Jasper look at Clarke, all absolutely disgusted at the revelation that somehow Pike and his army left lock-up and they didn't have any warning. They could've warned the army, but they didn't because they were sure they'd stay in prison until they brought Nia's body there this morning.
"How could this happen?" Clarke denies shakily, "he was arrested. H – how?"
"How did you escape?" Lexa enquires, her posture leant back and her words slow and murmured, instead of urgent like they were a moment ago.
"Bellamy," Indra informs them indifferently, not meeting any of their eyes.
Shock pumps through Myles' veins, "Bellamy?" Shaking her head quickly, the redhead refuses to believe he'd actually take part in this. "Bellamy was with them?"
"He wanted to spare the wounded," the warrior tells her, "but they wouldn't listen. He convinced Pike to let me live, so I could deliver a message."
Myles' eyes flick to Lexa's, the same stomach dropping dread being mirrored in both of their expressions.
"What message?" Lexa questions in a hard and detached voice.
"Skaikru rejects the coalition," Indra recounts, all the breath leaving Myles as she looks to her best friend and meets his eyes. "This is their land now." It's unspoken between the two best friends, the mutual conclusion of the red-haired teen being the only one willing and capable of fixing this being communicated loud and clear. "We can leave, or we can die."
Lexa leans back until her back is straight, hesitating for a moment before slowly turning her head to the guards they rode in with.
"Send riders," the commander orders them, and Jasper replaces Myles' hands applying pressure to the woman's wounds so she can spring to her feet. Lexa stands when the redhead does, her words and tone unshakable. "I call upon the armies of the Twelve Clans. In a day's time, we lay waste to Arkadia and everyone within its walls."
The warriors instantly agree, turning to walk away, but Myles is already rushing to talk sense into Lexa.
"No," Myles begs, coming to a stop inches from the commander's face. "Heda, I can fix this. This is what I do, let me fix this."
Lexa doesn't reply, doesn't shift her expression from the stoney and stoically emotionless mask she's put on. Fire burns through Myles' veins, knowing there isn't any time to waste and she quickly marches past the commander.
"Hod em op," Lexa calls, and in a second the warriors surround the red-haired teen, turning their weapons on Myles. [AN: "Stop her."]
The redhead doesn't fear them; she and Jasper both know they can easily fight their way out of this mess right now, but Myles would rather them live. Spinning her conflicted gaze to Jasper, her eyes silently beg him to do something so she doesn't have to kill these men. A response doesn't come from him, however, but Clarke.
"Lexa," Clarke exclaims in shock, shooting to her feet and leaving Jasper alone to manage Indra's bleeding. "What are you doing?"
"I can't let any of you leave, Clarke," the commander begrudgingly informs her, guilt chipping away at her heartless facade.
Clarke scoffs indignantly, "so we're prisoners now? Just like that?"
"Yes," Lexa answers quietly, as if she hates to admit it and a look of betrayal crosses Clarke's face.
"Fine," Myles relents, pulling her radio from her waistband and holding it up. Pressing a button to switch it to Arkadia's station and pressing the transmit button with three clicks. "If you won't let me go to see Uncle Marcus, I'll bring him here."
Relief and victory lightens the heartbroken expression cloaking the blonde's features, and Lexa watches Clarke as she smiles hopefully. Flicking her conceding gaze back to Myles, who quirks a red eyebrow impatiently at the motion. All Myles gets in reply from the commander is a slow and short nod.
They're inside of Lexa's large tent now, the warriors had erected it once Lexa had made it clear they're waiting for Marcus Kane before anything else is done. Lexa stands in the wide and open expanse of the tent, looking off distantly as she waits. No doubt she's weighing her options, and knowing that fact makes Myles envy Jasper for leaving to get more supplies. Clarke's hands work with Myles', the two of them working together to help Indra's wounds.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Myles moves her hands and the gauze that temporarily covers the stitched closed bullet wounds.
"The bleeding's stopped," Clarke announces calmly, her tired voice accompanying Indra's pained, low noises.
"We're just waiting on JJ for something to help with the – " Myles cuts off as the tent flap flies open, and hazel eyes don't even need to flick over to know Jasper is marching inside. "Speak of the devil."
"Octavia?" Clarke falters, turning her head to look at the tent flap.
Myles' head whips around at the name, seeing Jasper beelining for her with the medicine pack and Octavia at his heels.
"What's happened?" Myles frets, not doing anything once the medicine pack is placed in her hands. "Where's Marcus?"
"He sent me," the Blake sibling breathes out, kneeling down beside Indra's makeshift bed on the dirt. The action reminds Myles why she has the medicine pack, and the redhead opens it. Opening one of the compartments with sterile needles and pulling a needle out before dousing it with liquid from a large bottle labeled 'DISINFECT'. "Indra, thank god."
Carefully holding the needle up to dry in the air, Myles pulls out a vial with clear liquid marked 'MORPH'. Unscrewing the cap with one hand and then stabbing the sterile needle's tip into the vial to carefully pull a couple milligrams out. Octavia and Indra both eye the red-haired teen incredulously as she watches the syringe fill up carefully.
In the corner of her eyes, Lexa steps up to them slowly, her hard brown gaze sweeping over the scene. Pulling the needle from the vial, Myles hands it to Jasper to put the lid back on it while she holds the needle in the air and pushes the syringe in a bit to get rid of any and all air. Little squirts of the clear liquid shoot from the tip before Myles is satisfied that it's safe and ready for use.
"What is that?" Octavia demands, her dark brown eyebrows drawn together as she watches Myles line it up to Indra's bare arm.
"Something we made," Myles says distractedly, pressing the sharp tip into Indra's arm and causing the warrior to flinch at the strange feeling. "Closest thing to what morphine used to be like that we could figure out."
The result is almost instantaneous, Indra's muscles relaxing under Myles' fingertips before she has even finished pulling the needle out. Pain-filled groans and trembling calm down quietly, and Myles yanks the needle end of the syringe off to shove it into the syringe, effectively stopping it from being able to jab anyone or anything else before they can throw it away safely.
"How did this happen?" Lexa grits out, interrupting the easy moment that's fallen over them.
Octavia looks over her shoulder at the young woman, answering as she stands up.
"Kane lost the election to Pike," Octavia supplies, and all three Arker's in the tent snap their heads to the Blake sibling in shock. "Everything's different."
Myles stands, dropping the medicine kit on the ground and stepping over to Octavia to try to satisfy the denial building inside of her. There's nothing in the dark brown-haired teens demeanour that gives away any deception, only fear and sadness oozing from her. Lexa's brown eyes are ablaze with anger, her harsh glare being tossed at every Arker in the tent.
"Your people voted for this," the commander seethes, her tone low and predatory.
Wide hazel eyes snap to the young woman's brown in determined rejection.
"No," Myles denies confidently, shaking her head urgently with her eyebrows high up on her forehead. "No, that's impossible."
"How would you know, Myles?" Octavia spits out bitterly, turning to the redhead slowly. "You haven't been here."
"You don't understand," the red-haired teen pleads with the Blake sibling, as if the teen could change reality. "The grounders army is going to be here before nightfall. I need to see Bellamy. I need to fix this."
"Bellamy was a part of this," the Blake sister reminds her disdainfully, speaking to the anxious and jittery redhead like she's a child. "He's with Pike. What makes you think he'll help us?"
It's clear Octavia's just as pissed as everyone else, but she has the same underlying resentment for the Ark as Myles does, tripling her disgust of the situation. She's lost faith in her brother; she's lost sight of who he is.
"Bell saved Indra's life," Myles tells Octavia, and the words stun the sibling to silence. Octavia fully shifts her head back, staring at the red-haired teen with wide eyes to scour her features for dishonesty before whipping around to look at Indra. Myles turns to Lexa, knowing she's the only one right now with the power to try to stop Myles from doing what she needs to do. "Look," the redhead insists, stepping close to Lexa and trying to reason with her. "If what Octavia's saying is true, that means Pike trusts him. If I can get to Bellamy, he can get to Pike and I can fix this."
"You can't just walk through the gates, Myles," Lexa points out, her face twisted up bitterly. "You've been living with their enemy. If it were me, I'd kill you on the spot."
"I can get in," Myles counters calmly, her confident hazel eyes switching between the commander's two brown. "I can do it undetectably, uncatchably and perfectly."
"It's true," Indra pipes up, gaining Lexa's attention. "You know it's true, you've seen it yourself. She is more than Wanheda to them… she's the Ghost."
It's silent for a moment as the commander's eyes swing back over to Myles. She knows the young woman well enough to know she's studying her, recounting everything she knows of the redhead and piecing together a puzzle that Myles will never be privy to.
"Go," Lexa commands simply, and Myles instinctively grabs Octavia's hand to pull her out the tent with her. "But be quick."
One of the many things Myles isn't good at is waiting. Leaning against a table somewhere the redhead had hoped she never had to be again, angst keeps her body fidgeting with unease. Hazel eyes scan around her, seeing the same dull and bland shade of grey that her eyes are no longer used to being the only colour to exist. Nerves and anxiety tremble through her veins, making every sound she hears feel louder than it really is.
Just standing in this room, in this Station of the Ark, is suffocating. Knowing exactly what life can offer outside of these walls, knowing exactly what everyone on this Space Station had to do to survive chips away at her mind. She's no longer eighteen, she's no longer this war-hardened version of herself, instead she's the little girl staring at a door and dreading the moment it opened.
Footsteps march down the hallway outside of the door Myles stares at and she swallows dryly, no longer knowing who the man about to walk through that door is. Pushing her shoulders back and straightening her back, Myles can't help feeling dirty for eavesdropping on the tail end of the two siblings' argument.
"I'm not playing anything," Octavia snaps. "This is who I am. You're my brother. I shouldn't have to tell you that."
The door opens, but Bellamy is looking at the ground. He's haunted, as haunted as Myles is, looking far too tired and worn down by life for his age. Slowly, the dark brown-haired man walks through the threshold before his deep brown gaze flicks up and his whole body goes stiff at the sight of Myles.
Even his eyes are different. They seem darker than they were at the summit two days ago, but maybe that's just from the bags under his eyes. He looks like the same man from the dropship, the only two differences Myles can spot being the high ranking Ark guardsman jacket he wears, his free and messy dark brown curls and his haunted eyes. Neither Bellamy Blake or Myles break their eye contact or move, not until Octavia says her last three words and leaves.
"Now, I'm done," the Blake sister declares, causing Bellamy's surprised eyes to leave Myles for only a moment before she shuts the door behind herself.
It's awkwardly silent, and Myles can't help feeling that his once loving gaze now burns a hole through her.
"You should go easy on O," Myles advises after a brief beat of hesitation. "She's not had it easy."
"What are you doing here, Myles?" Bellamy demands hotly, like just hearing her speak made his patience evaporate.
His tone and the disdainful look he's giving her makes his use of 'Myles' instead of 'Aggie' be heard louder than her own raging heartbeat, sending a sharp pang through her chest. Still, though, Myles can't seem to tear her eyes from his.
"We need to talk," the red-haired teen states softly, hating that she expects the backlash before he even opens his mouth.
"Oh," the Blake brother scoffs, smiling sarcastically. "You've decided that? The mighty Wanheda, who chose the grounders over her own people? Who turned her back on us when we came to rescue you? Now, you want to talk?"
A thousand spiteful comebacks shoot through her mind at his furious and vengeful tone and the words he spits them out with. Instead, however, Myles swallows and pushes off of the table to step towards him haltingly.
"I came to tell you that the Ice Nation has paid the price for the attack on Mount Weather," Myles offers firmly. "That it's over."
"There it is again," Bellamy chides, crossing his arms and looking at the ground with a sadistic smirk. Looking up at her sharply and speaking furiously. "Why do you get to decide it's over?"
"I don't know what you want from me," the redhead admits, her boots planting on the ground a metre away from him. "We did our part."
"We?" Bellamy mockingly questions, his head jutting forward condescendingly.
"Lexa and Roan…" Myles starts to explain, cutting herself off when she realises that it's too complicated for him to possibly understand right now. Sucking in a greedy breath, "the Ice Queen is dead, we fixed it and you and Pike ruined everything."
"Why are you here, Myles?" Bellamy demands lowly, uncrossing his arms and stalking right up to Myles.
"If Arkadia doesn't fix what you've broken," the red-haired teen informs him softly, begging for him to understand. "The twelve clans will wipe you out and I won't be able to fix it for you again."
"Let them try," the Blake brother declares defiantly, and Myles' hopeful resolve falters.
"Please don't tell me that you want another war," Myles whispers thickly, her voice becoming stuck with tears that she tries desperately to not let slip out.
"We've been at war since we landed," Bellamy reasons quietly, his dark brown eyebrows turning up in a worried frown. "At least Pike understands that."
It stuns Myles to silence for a moment, "why is that? Because last time I checked, it was because we ruined their land and burned down their villages."
"You're wrong," the Blake brother asserts confidently, his sharp features twisting up angrily again.
"Am I?" Myles demands, "I'm sorry, were there any attacks in the last three months? Or just the bomb at Mount Weather?"
"I let you," Bellamy divulges scornfully, scrunching up his nose sourly, "and Octavia and Kane convince me that we could trust these people when they have shown over and over who they are. And I won't let anyone else die for that mistake."
"Just," Myles' head is spinning, of all the things she expected to walk through that door, she didn't expect an unrepentant mass murderer. Deep brown eyes stare at her widely, looking maddened by everything they've been through. "Listen, Bell, I need you and we don't have much time."
"You need me," Bellamy repeats blandly after a second of just staring at her stormily.
"Yes," Myles immediately agrees, her red eyebrows raising high and a sad smile of relief daring to peek through her pleading expression. "Yes, I d – "
"You left me," Bellamy reminds her shakily, his tone unwaveringly harsh as dark brown eyebrows fly up. "You left everyone."
"What else was I sup – " the red-haired teen tries, before Bellamy cuts her off.
"Enough, Myles!" Bellamy shouts, lowering his voice when he continues. "You're not in charge here. And that's a good thing, because people die when you're in charge."
Tears glisten in both of their eyes, the words destroying everything that Myles had spent the last three months painstakingly creating to keep herself alive and okay. Bellamy almost looks like he wants to take the words back, but he doesn't. Hazel eyes leave his, taunting reminders of the hallucinations of Bellamy she's seen since Mount Weather echoing in her mind and tempting her with the belief that this isn't real.
"Okay," Myles relents defeatedly, daring to lock her tear-filled eyes on Bellamy's again.
"Okay?" Bellamy snidely repeats.
"Go ask your sister what she thinks," Myles starts, quickly finishing her sentence before Bellamy could talk over her again. He stops, squinting his eyes at her in a patronising way that makes her feel stupid enough to keep talking. "It doesn't mean she's right, you don't have to care at all how she feels, but, god, ask her, because she's the next one walking out that gate and leaving you and never looking back."
It's Bellamy's turn to be shocked to silence, Myles' words reinforcing a fear that's lingered in the back of his mind since they left Mount Weather three months ago. The slack expression that takes over his face is almost enough to make Myles want to cave and go back to begging him to help, but she knows it's no use. Octavia was right, he's not going to help them.
Turning when only silence fills the room, Myles waits another beat before storming past the man and through the door Bellamy had entered through, marching down the hallway to get to the room that leads her out of this hellhole. Hot tears spill down her cheeks, and the redhead angrily swipes them away, never once hearing Bellamy leave the room or turn to follow her. It doesn't take long to navigate through the familiar winding halls, and it's only a matter of moments later that Myles slips through the red strips of plastic hanging from the ceiling to make up a temporary wall.
"Uncle Marcus," Myles breathes out happily, the tears she was fighting moments ago reappearing.
At the sight of the redhead, Marcus surges forward to embrace her in a tight hug that does nothing to help stop her teary eyes from watering. Sniffing loudly and trying to steady herself from the conversation she just had, hazel eyes skim over Abby Griffin and Octavia shifting the metal panel on the wall. Shifting it reveals the small passageway that Myles and Octavia had entered through, and it reminds Myles that there's no time to waste.
"It's okay," Marcus soothes, feeling the girl he's loved as his own daughter try to pull herself together. "We know what happened."
"We know what Pike did," Abby adds urgently, abandoning Octavia at the panel to help figure this out with the red-haired teen. Myles pulls out of Marcus' hug to look at them. "Is there anything we can do to prevent a retaliation?"
"Aggie, hurry," Marcus urges kindly, his soft tone making her want to melt into the floor. "We don't have time."
"We came here to give them Pike," Octavia admits sorrowfully from the panel, already knowing from the look on the redhead's face how Bellamy reacted.
"He's the duly elected chancellor," Marcus explains lowly, "our people knew what they were voting for. Besides, he has the guards and all the guns. Can't get close to him."
"And that's not the way we do things," Abby insists, ever the voice of reason.
Myles' teary eyes lock back on Marcus' determined gaze, lifting a shoulder to shrug helplessly.
"I haven't got any better ideas," the redhead admits shakily, her head twitching to the side with her effort to stay calm.
"She's right," Octavia decides, "maybe it's time we changed the way we do things."
A loud alarm echoes through the hallways and rooms of Alpha Station, a man's monotone voice calling out an announcement.
"Security breach," the alarm sounds, a shrill beeping screeching through after his words that's almost as loud as the realisation that Bellamy told the guard she's here. "Lockdown commencing."
"You need to go," Marcus whispers, urgently tugging Myles towards the passageway. "Now."
"Uncle Marcus," Myles refuses, hot tears completely obstructing her vision. "Come with me."
"I can't," the councillor pleads with her, reaching his hands up to cup her face as the shrill and fast-paced alarm continues to blare.
"Please," the redhead whimpers, tears spilling over her cheeks. "I'm tired, I can't do this again. I can't. I can't."
"You can," Marcus corrects strongly, "and you will, because that's what you do. That's what you're good at." Myles tips her head to the side, defeat coursing through her body and weighing her down. "May we meet again."
"May we meet again," Myles echoes as Marcus pulls her head down to plant a kiss on her forehead before letting her go completely to disappear down the cramped passageway.
Myles' rapidly pounding boots cross the Earth beneath her feet quickly, the sound of the thumping rivalling her anxiously beating heart. Darkness cloaks the Earth, the sun finally having completely disappeared over the horizon. The dark evening sky and the white puffs of her own breath that cloud in front of her face make it hard to see exactly what's in front of her. Her boots stomp over sticks and bound over logs and tree roots easily and without much thought, but the slippery mud that greets her with the hundreds of bodies trip her up.
Fire lit torches accompany the warriors standing guard outside of Lexa's large tent, and the second Myles is close enough to be recognisable in the lowlight, one of them disappears into the tent. Myles gets there just as the man slips back out of the woven material, and she doesn't wait for permission before slinking in behind him.
Jasper springs to his feet, and Clarke straightens in her spot next to Indra, but Lexa paces impatiently, barely sparing the redhead a glance.
"Where's Octavia?" Indra immediately enquires, and Myles' fast steps falter before stopping completely in front of the invisible line the commander walks.
"She's still in camp," Myles explains, getting simultaneous shocked looks from both Arker's and the warrior.
"What?" Clarke exclaims. "She hates it there."
"What's happening?" Jasper quizzes, walking to stand so close to his best friend that when they take breaths, his abdomen brushes against her elbow.
Myles doesn't answer, only watching as Lexa paces in front of her.
"Tell us, Myles," the commander urges dully, "how does this end? Have you come up with a way to save your people, yet again?"
"No," the red-haired teen admits honestly, quirking her eyebrows and tipping her head before continuing. "Only you can do that."
"Aggie," Clarke breathes out lowly in warning, but her fearful expression doesn't make Myles falter or slow.
"What happened out there is an act of war," Myles says simply, lifting an arm and pointing bitterly at the muddy field of their dead friend's. "Hell, they even said it themselves. Your army was here to help us and my people slaughtered them in their sleep." Clarke stands in shock, and Jasper reaches a hand out to grip his best friend's arm as her name falls quietly from his lips. "You have every right to retaliate. Every right to wipe them all out. Or, you can change the way you do things."
"Why should she change?" Indra counters confidently, "blood must have blood."
"And how does that end?" Myles shoots back at the warrior, lifting her eyebrows and shrugging lazily. Flicking her hazel eyes back to Lexa's impatient brown. "Even if both armies had fully automatic guns, that still only ends with everyone dead. Heda, what kind of leader do you want to be?" Lexa halts in her pacing to level the red-haired teen with a bored stare. "Kaina-de chon ste flosh klin kom ogeda chants em ste hon in… kos daun bilaik yu hedon? O kaina-de chon ste tich houd-de op fodowin hedon?" [AN: "The kind who kills every chance she gets… because that's your way? Or the kind who shows the world a better way?"]
Lexa steps to stand toe to toe with Myles, and Jasper let's go of the redhead's arm, knowing she has this handled. Something shines in Lexa's brown eyes, and Myles can't quite put her finger on it, but she knows she needs to hold her ground firmly.
"You consider letting a massacre go unavenged..." the commander starts slowly, as if she's more curious for the Arker's reply than anything else. "A better way?"
"If it ends the cycle of death, yes," Myles declares strongly, "if it ends the cycle of unnecessary wars, yes. If it brings peace, yes." Lexa's unblinking eyes stare into Myles', "someone has to take the first step, Heda. What's a better legacy than be the one who does that?" The commander finally closes her eyes, holding them closed for a beat as she slowly turns and begins pacing again. Unwilling to lose this and doom Arkadia, Myles follows after her. "You said to me you want peace, that everything you've done has been to achieve that, but look at where we are! We're on the brink of another war. A war… that you can stop."
Lexa stops walking, locking her softening gaze on the redhead's hazel. When the young woman merely switches her eyes between Myles', Indra leans forward from the pillows she lay propped up against.
"Commander," Indra's incredulous voice prompts, "you can't seriously be considering this."
The commander turns her unwavering gaze to Clarke as she replies, "I'm not considering it." Myles' stomach bottoms out, the feeling of failing again filling her to the brim. "I'm doing it."
"Heda," Indra interjects forcefully, "please – "
"Indra," Lexa cuts her off, and Myles finally feels like she can breathe again. "Our people act as if war is easier than peace. If that's so, should we not try and achieve the more difficult goal?"
Respect flourishes inside of Myles, and she spares a glance at the two other relaxed Arker's.
"Polis will not support you," the dark-skinned warrior warns, "Titus – "
"Titus is my subject," the commander raises her voice, stepping towards the wounded warrior. "They're all my subjects." Lexa lowers her voice again, her tone falling so low and threateningly that Myles swears the ground shakes. "Do you say they will defy me? Will you defy me?"
"No, Heda," Indra amends calmly, "I will not."
"Then let it be known…" the commander announces, turning back to lock her eyes with Clarke's before finally switching to Myles' fleetingly. "Blood must not have blood."
They're here again, slowing the rover to a stop in the pitch black and pouring rain at the usual sight of the tree with half of a branch chopped off and a boulder immediately after it. It's different, though, the two best friends aren't alone in the rover anymore as it comes to a complete stop beside the familiar cluster of stones to their left. Myles flicks off the headlights and waits a beat for her eyes to adjust before crawling forward again.
"What's the bet…" Jasper drawls out tiredly, "that since last time it was for Clarke, this time it'll be for someone else?"
"If it is…" Myles plays along, "my money's on Lincoln."
"Lincoln?" Clarke scoffs jokingly, leaning forward in the backseat to bring her head between the two front seats. "Definitely Finn. He hates it there more than Octavia."
"That's who my money's on," the brown-haired teen decides aloud, and Myles flicks her head towards him halfheartedly.
"Finny-boy?" Myles asks, quirking an eyebrow even though neither of the other two can see it.
"No," Jasper corrects instantly, "Octavia, you amateurs."
"Nah," Clarke waves off, "she'll stay if Lincoln stays. Those two are a package deal."
Myles starts hitting the brake again, slowing the slowly crawling rover to a stop.
Tipping her head to the side, Myles states, "only one way to find out."
Unbuckling the only two seatbelts in the rover, all three climb out into the cold rain. It doesn't take more than a second for Octavia Blake's voice to call out to them as two sets of footsteps approach.
"Guys," the Blake sister greets jogging towards them. "We're here."
"Climb straight in," Jasper declares, pushing Clarke gently back towards the rover. "Get you out of the rain."
Clarke switches on the ceiling light when she climbs over the front seats to get into the back and Myles slips back into the drivers seat. The small light illuminates all five Arker's faces, showing the other person Octavia is with to be Finn. Finn clambers into the backseat with Octavia, sitting across from her and Clarke. Jasper shuts his door behind himself and both best friends turn to face the three in the back.
"What's happened?" Myles quizzes, dread pumping heavily through her veins.
"Whatever you said to Bell worked," a drenched Octavia informs them, and shock colours the three. "He's gonna be a double agent for Marcus."
"That's fantastic," Clarke beams, excitement radiating from her.
"He's good at playing the inside man," Jasper agrees, looking to Myles with a smile.
"What else?" Myles enquires softly, "Why'd Uncle Marcus send you both out?"
"He didn't," Finn admits, "I'm not going back in there."
"Neither am I," Octavia adds, holding up one of Marcus' walkie-talkies. "They arrested Lincoln and all the grounders in sick-bay. Kane wants me to be the eyes for whatever Pike plans do outside of the walls, keep me from joining them in lockup and give you two a break."
Myles and Jasper lock eyes.
"Thank god!"