That Never Was - 3

by lileb

Aggie is no longer alone in her careless dances with fate; and if there's one thing that life is reliable for, it's giving you chances to teeter on the edge of death. Some chances, not even distance can save you from. Book three in the series: The Ghost

10. Chapter 9 - Bitter Harvest

Day 156 – Feb. 15

Myles is sitting at the table in the cave again, staring at her fingers and humming as they fiddle with the coarse strings mimicking her mumbled tune. No matter how much she stares down at them, fixating on each string and the sound they make, it's hard for her to remember exactly how they made them. She doesn't remember carefully collecting sheep and cows intestines from her own kills or that of a butcher's. Doesn't remember patiently waiting and travelling all over with Jasper to find anyone with mulberry silkworms at the beginning of winter.

In fact, she can't even tell looking down at them now and listening to their dull and bright notes that those threads of silk she tried so hard to find are hidden beneath the sterilised and cleaned wound animal gut she strums and presses down on. Only fixating on sore fingertips, the skin hardened and gradually becoming accustomed to pressing down on the hard strings in awkward patterns.

Her mind is elsewhere, straying from the indents on her fingertips and focussing on the words bouncing around her mind. Counting syllables and trying to pick words that sound smooth and flow easily in a song. Myles is far too busy figuring out exactly what she wants to say and exactly how she wants it to sound for anything else to even be a thought in her head. Sliding her hand up the skinny bridge, Myles presses down with the very tips of her fingertips on her left hand. Holding down certain strings in different places to make the different sounds of the notes and chords she wants when she plucks or strums the instrument, ignoring the dull bite of her fingertips. Her right hand dances across the belly of the guitar, gliding in the same rhythm it has been for hours now.

It doesn't look like it would've two hundred years ago, probably doesn't sound like it did either, but it's the closest thing to it they can get their hands on. Mount Weather had a piano and several other instruments, proper ones from before the war, but the two best friends couldn't bring themselves to venture inside to get them. The body of the guitar she plays is narrow, the belly deep, the waist nowhere near as pronounced and dramatic as other guitars looked in the pictures from the Ark.

Sighing, Myles pauses in her tune to slip her hands to where they need to be to get the sound of the beginning of the last chorus. Repeating the steady and strong notes, the redhead mumbles the words she already knows she wants.

"Is this what they call heartbreak?" Myles sings softly to the tune she strums, matching every inflection in her tone to the notes she plays. "What makes your soul quiver and quake? Sittin' with only blood left on my sleeve, not knowin' who to grieve." The beat picks up as her hands move faster over the strings, keeping the sad sound but making it sound loud and harsh. "Is this what they call heartbreak? When you lose all that's at stake? My heart's no longer in its case, carried away with every lost face. Is this what they call heartbreak?"

Keeping the momentum for another moment, Myles mumbles incoherently the tune she wants the words at the end of the chorus to keep. They've not been decided on yet, though, she knows where she wants them and what they need to sound like to fit with the beat. Myles' hearty and confident strumming calms, going back to the simple tune from the very beginning of the song.

"I'd be lying if I didn't say," the red-haired teen breathes out, emphasising certain words and drawling them out to fit in the slower tune. "I miss you more than yesterday. Your silence speaks like the ghost, of decayed trust and almost." Slowing down her notes and strumming, Myles hums for the lines she doesn't yet know what she wants to say. "The best thing I can do, is what's right by you. Like you did for me, by stoppin' and settin' me free." Max's paws enter the cave, clicking and trotting on the rocky ground calmly down the narrow and short passage to reach the redhead. "I've loved you through the rough, and now I'll love you enough, to let you go. Like you let me…" strumming one last time, slowly, "go."

"That's sad," Jasper states, walking towards her and Myles looks up at him. "Good. That's what I was looking for."

"Okay," Myles replies slowly, squinting her eyes, "right."

"I can't sleep," her best friend elaborates, sitting on the floor in front of her and lying down. He's still facing her with his knees bent up by her own, looking up at her from his spot on the rocky ground as Max walks around them both, looking for pats. "Because I'm miserable. I went to wake you up and force you to be miserable with me, but you cheated."

"I didn't cheat," the red-haired teen counters calmly, tilting her head condescendingly and keeping her gaze locked on Jasper's. "I won."

"You won," Jasper echoes sarcastically, barely contained laughter bubbling over his words, "at being more miserable than me for one night. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Myles jokes back, giggling, "it was a monumental achievement. I'm going to write it down and hang it on my wall."

Jasper barks out a loud laugh, and Myles' face scrunches up as she laughs at their stupidity. Their laughter dies down, and the brown-haired teen is the first to break the comfortable silence that falls over them.

"Man…" Jasper breathes out, and Myles looks from her absentmindedly strumming fingers to look at him. "No wonder Clarke likes it at Polis more."

"She has every reason to like it at Polis more," Myles agrees. "She doesn't get woken up in the night for trauma, she gets sex."

"I bet," her best friend wonders aloud, his voice distant with thoughtfulness. "The commander is great in bed."

"Dude," the redhead interjects, pulling her eyebrows down low and pausing in her mindless strumming to level Jasper with an exasperated look. "Really? Lexa?"

"Clarke is so bossy and proper," Jasper defends his point, lifting his hands and gesturing to Myles as if he's talking to a child. "She probably has a chart of the best positions and makes a plan."

"Exactly," Myles doubles down, "she knows what she wants. She's a perfectionist. All that pent up energy she always has has to go somewhere."

Jasper props himself up on his elbows, looking at his best friend like he's just had an epiphany. Myles stares at Jasper, patiently waiting with her hands frozen on the guitar.

"Oh, my god," the brown-haired teen mutters, "control freak equals freaky in the sheets."

"That's what I'm saying," the redhead exclaims, "she had dudes with girlfriends falling to their knees in front of her. She has the commander in the palm of her hand. That girl has some huge appeal. And she's hot."

"That's just unfair," Jasper mutters, lying back down on the floor. "But also so awesome. That's our friend, how cool is that?"

"Very cool," Myles concedes, nodding to herself and strumming the strings again.

"Okay," the brown-haired teen decides with conviction, "we had our happy moment, let's go back to being miserable." Myles snorts obnoxiously at that, but Jasper isn't finished. "D.J., hit me with that sad song."

Obediently, the redhead strums the notes again in the tune she's played repetitively over the last few hours. There's no embarrassment, no shame, no judgement. Monty, Jasper and her have the kind of friendship where it's just there. They can say or do just about anything, and they'll either have the others full support or they'll be told exactly how ridiculous they sound or look. And it's always okay, while it may bruise feelings, they are never left feeling like they need to hold back.

So, knowing that Jasper will either love or hate the song passionately, Myles plays it without the fear of either. They all know it's for their own good, every time they do or say something stupid, it's pointed out in the kindest, most 'I love you anyway' way that it's just okay.

"I've been tongue tied," Myles sings softly, drawling out the notes and adding inflections to her tone to match the tune she plucks the strings with. "For as long as I've been alive."

They're both lying on the floor, Myles having migrated to laying beside her best friend after a little while. Sitting at the table had suddenly felt too far away from Jasper, even though he was lying right there beside her. It's simple and easy, reminiscent of their time on the Ark. Yet, darkness chokes the air, reminding them constantly of everything they've seen. Max lies on the cool stone by their feet, stretched out and twitching at every loud noise the two best friends make.

"… they did not!" Myles exclaims, her red eyebrows pulled together and held down in frustration.

"Yes, they did," Jasper counters lightly, a bright smile shining through his words.

"No, they didn't," the redhead continues, turning her head to stare at her best friend with her ear against the cool ground. "It was very clearly Clarke from the very beginning!"

"I'm telling you," her best friend informs her through a chuckle, no trace of deception in his calm tone. "That's why no one stepped on your toes at all." Myles only continues to stare at Jasper, her mouth held open in shock. "I said the deaths in Trishana were suspicious and we needed riders out there because an attack on an isolated clan in that much snow would be a huge fucking loss. And everyone, everyone thought I was an idiot. You were the only one who agreed, and everyone shut up."

"Oh… my god," Myles breathes out, her pinched expression falling lax as she wraps her mind around the idea. "That's mortifying."

"It's not," the brown-haired teen insists, chuckling, "it's just funny."

"No," the redhead rejects lowly, bringing a hand to her head and looking back at the glistening cave ceiling. "Do you think Lexa knows?"

"Of course Lexa knows," Jasper states, turning his head to level his best friend with a pointed look. "It's her kingdom."

"She doesn't think it's true, does she?" Myles asks, cringing strongly, "that's so awkward."

"She's spent the last three months with us," the brown-haired teen reminds her. "That means she's spent three months listening to talk about 'ooh, Bellamy Blake', 'oh, his big heart'." Myles reaches the hand farthest from Jasper out, slapping his arm halfheartedly. "'Those eyes, ooh'."

"I do not sound like that," the red-haired teen argues indignantly, looking at him.

"Yes, you do," Jasper tells her, bringing a hand to her arm and holding it gently, staring into her eyes. "And I'm telling you this because I love you; you were so unbelievably wrong."

"Wha – why?" Myles inquires, all joking and frustration leaving and being replaced with curiosity.

"He's an arrogant, self-serving jackass," her best friend declares, "who only cares about himself."

"No, he isn't," the redhead shoots back straight away. "He'd do anything for Octavia."

"Fine," Jasper relents, looking at her with raised eyebrows and daring her to question him again. "He's an arrogant, self-serving jackass who only cares about himself and Octavia."

Rolling her hazel eyes, Myles replies, "this is a very over-dramatic reaction for saying something stupid in the heat of the moment."

"That's not why I'm saying it," the brown-haired teen informs her, "it's why I'm saying it out loud to you, but me and Monty have thought this since we landed."

Myles props herself up on her elbows as she stares at her best friend dumbfounded.

"Why didn't you guys say anything?" Myles enquires, her tone soft and puzzled instead of accusatory.

"We did," Jasper shrugs, a dopey smile on his face, "just not to you."

"He's not that bad," the redhead insists, gesturing with her hands exasperatedly and making the rocky ground pinch at her elbows.

A lot of memories run through her mind, every single one of them leaving a bittersweet pang in her heart. There're the images that leave a sour taste in her mouth; every cocky, egotistical comment or statement that drew in a loyal crowd, every woman who left his large and extravagant tent disheveled or barely dressed with a blush tinting her face. But all of those memories are followed up by the same sweet thing; Bellamy unable to mercy-kill Atom, leaving with them to find Jasper, not running away – despite everything, loving her.

Jasper quirks an eyebrow silently at his best friend's defence of the Blake brother, and Myles drops her head back in response, her hazel gaze stuck on his.

"He's all bark," Myles informs him confidently, hopefully, "he says whatever and he doesn't follow through with it."

"Except when it comes to killing 300 of our friends," Jasper reminds her dully, "in their sleep."

The words make the redhead deflate, her shoulders falling lax and her body slumping. Heaving a heavy sigh in defeat, Myles lies back down on the ground, staring at the jagged stone ceiling of the cave.

"You still love him," Jasper whispers, it's a statement and not a question, but his best friend still answers it as if it were.

"Do you still love me?" Myles whispers back, her tone empty and hollow.

"Of course," her best friend promises strongly, "it's not that same thing. You saved us all by pulling that lever, he saved no one by pulling the trigger."

"What if he thought they did?" She murmurs back, "I killed friends, too."

"Maya…" Jasper swallows, his dead lover's name coming out strained. "And everyone else in the resistance… they might've been friends, but they still needed us and the grounders dead to live."

Myles turns her head towards her best friend, but doesn't meet his eyes, both teens instead staring vacantly somewhere in the other's general direction.

"Not dead," Myles counters softly, "there weren't many resistors. We have plenty of people who could've donated marrow and lived."

"And what would that do?" Jasper questions, and the redhead knows his harsh tone isn't directed to her. "They would've lost everything, everyone, for what?"

"To live," the red-haired teen answers, "to love."

"Would that be worth it to you?" Her best friend asks, finally looking at her eyes again. Myles meets his gaze, shaking her head lightly against the cold rocky ground. "Me, either."

"If you don't hate me," Myles starts slowly and quietly, expecting a bad reaction. "Why do you still hate Monty?"

Jasper tenses, but he doesn't snap at her, instead taking his time to think through the words.

"I don't hate him," he states so quietly that his voice wobbles, "I don't think I ever did. I hated everyone else, Monty… Monty was someone I could blame and have it mean something. Blaming Bellamy did nothing, but blaming Monty felt like it made a difference."

"Do you think 'cause it hurt him?" Myles enquires softly, watching her best friend's face.

"I don't know," Jasper answers, dragging one of his shoulders on the ground slightly to shrug. "Maybe."

"What do you think will happen?" Myles questions curiously, and Jasper meets her eyes again. "When Pike isn't chancellor anymore?"

"Depends," the brown-haired teen offers vaguely, "if it's a big thing, a lot of people might die. If it's a little thing, Marcus will probably become chancellor. Open the door between them and the grounders. Lincoln will probably leave, anyway."

"I don't see anyone going back," the redhead adds, getting an eyebrow quirk and a huff in agreement from her best friend. A smile breaks across Myles' face, "Clarke will move in with Lexa."

"Fingers crossed," Jasper announces, holding a hand up with his middle and pointer finger crossed over one another. "We didn't have the space for dad."

"I don't mind her visiting," Myles decides after a beat, "but this back and forth might kill the last shreds of sanity I have left."

"That's what's killing yours?" Jasper quizzes in faux shock, "the tension between her and Finn is stampeding over mine."

Giggling lightly, "it was rough at first… but now it's kinda funny."

"It's not funny," her best friend insists, laughing. "It's sad. He thought he had another chance."

"He looks constipated wherever someone mentions Lexa," Myles details, giggling.

"You masochist," Jasper accuses playfully, chuckling through the words. "The poor dude is all alone."

"Finn's fine," the red-haired teen assures him, calming down from her laughter. "He's with us."

"That's the saddest part," her best friend counters, bursting out into laughter.

"We're all alone," Myles agrees, her tone light and happy. "But we're all alone together."

"Speak for yourself," Jasper declares, his laughter dying down to appear serious.

"Ha!" Myles barks out, "oh, god, here we go again."

"You're just jealous," the brown-haired teen teases, "I have suitors bowing at my feet."

"She was not bowing at your feet," the redhead chortles, snorting to herself. "She told you the farm was a two-hour walk north from their house."

"She was hot," Jasper reminds her, "and she was flirting with me."

"She was not flirting with you," Myles chuckles out instantly, her breaths wheezing from her laughter. "You said 'I value my breath, but you can keep taking it away' and she laughed."

"That's flirting," Jasper insists, his brown eyes bright with laughter as he looks at his best friend. "You'd know that if you didn't get with someone so quickly. This is what we like to call 'the game'."

"Is 'we'…" the redhead tries to joke through her giggling, "… you and the other single people?"

"You're part of that group now, Aggie," Jasper reminds her playfully. "I'm teaching you the tricks of the trade."

"Of being alone?" Myles huffs out jokingly, "because we've got that down pat, my dude."

"Of pulling babes," the brown-haired teen announces, "rejection just means you're too funny for them to compete with."

"Is that what we need to be working at?" Myles asks, her laughter dying down but the bright smile plastered over both of their faces still firmly in place. "Being funny?"

"Exactly," Jasper confirms, lifting his hands up and gesturing into the air as if he's making a chart. "80% jokes only needs 5% pity and you've got the recipe for catching anyone."

"What about the other 15%?" The redhead queries, her chest and stomach bubbling laughter that hasn't made its way out of her throat yet.

"That's only for the pros," the brown-haired teen divulges and giggles erupt from his best friend again.

"Is it?" Myles giggles, "or did you forget how to do math?"

"No comment," Jasper supplies vaguely, suppressing a laugh before both teens burst out laughing.

Footsteps echo into the cave behind them, but they're both too far gone into their hysterics to pay any attention to it.

"Hey, guys," Finn calls out as he steps inside, Max lifts his head up in acknowledgment and both teens crane their necks to look behind them while keeping their heads on the cool stone.

"Hey," Myles echoes with a bright smile, her laughter dying down, and Jasper salutes the teen. "Octavia out?"

"Yeah," the brown-haired teen confirms, his tired eyes droopy and his short hair messed up. "We swapped over a few hours ago."

That statement sobers both teens up rather quickly. If they switched over a while ago, it must be after sunup by now.

"Rough night on parasite watch?" Jasper inquires, a touch of concern shining through his goofy tone.

"Nah," Finn answers, "it was nice and quiet. Got to sleep most of it. The same group from Argo went out early again."

"Earlier than usual?" Myles queries, the way the teen has stopped halfway into the cave not sitting well in her gut.

"Same time," he brushes off, "just before Octavia's watch. That's not why I'm here."

"What's up?" Jasper enquires seriously, reaching a hand out quickly to add. "And don't say the sky."

"Clarke called over the shortwave's station," Finn informs them, and both best friends sit up at that. "There's a problem in Polis; they need you both."

"What kinda problem?" Myles quizzes, keeping her worried and confused gaze on their friend as Jasper and Max stand up and stretch.

"She didn't say," Finn shrugs tiredly, his shoulders seeming heavy in the short motion. "Just that it's important and they need you to get there."

"Alright," Jasper sighs, leaning back as he stretches his back from lying on the stone ground. "Dad still asleep?"

"Yeah," the brown-haired teen nods once, "late shift hit him hard. You comin', gorgeous?"

"No," Myles refuses instantly, meeting Jasper's exasperated eyes. "We haven't even thought of an excuse yet."

"It's nowhere near Ascension Day," Jasper assures her, but Myles is having none of it.

"Ascension Day?" Finn echoes, his face twisted up in confusion.

"Celebrating the previous commanders," the brown-haired teen explains, and the redhead continues, standing up.

"They measure how high the snow reaches," Myles elaborates, "on this half destroyed statue of a horse. Three days after the snow touches the highest point it ever reaches in winter, they celebrate it."

"Exactly," Jasper counters calmly, "we're nowhere near that."

"It's the middle of February," the red-haired teen exclaims, looking at her best friend like he's lost his mind. "Winter's almost over."

Huffing dramatically, Jasper looks at his best friend as they step off of the last flight of stairs to reach the highest level in the Polis tower. He says nothing straight away, and his silence makes the redhead meet his eyes. Darkness clouds his brown eyes, a look that's unfortunately too familiar on them both since Mount Weather. The brewing tensions between Pike and the grounders hasn't been sitting well in either of their guts, especially since he's proved him and his army aren't afraid to be the first to draw blood.

Bellamy has left both best friends indifferent, which does nothing to halt the backwards steps they're both taking in their recovery. Sleepless nights were finally beginning to teeter out, going days without a blink of sleep before collapsing had turned into getting at least a few hours every night, even if there were nightmares. Now, both best friends find themselves up all night more often than not. War hangs above their heads once more, death surrounding them and picking them apart with grief, guilt, and shame.

Jasper has words on the tip of his tongue, has had them there since the two of them got within seeing distance of Polis. It has left him eerily silent, and while it's not a strange sight on Jasper now, it's still unnerving. Fidgeting hands, shaky steps and quickly glancing eyes haven't calmed down, only getting worse with every step they've taken. Sighing heavily, Myles knows whatever he needs to say can't be said in front of Lexa, and she decides if he really needs to say them, it's now or never.

"If you've got something to say," Myles tells him, halting her steps to look at her anxiously fiddling friend. "Now's the time."

"We should just go," Jasper blurts out lowly, spinning his head to glance around the hallway nervously, his gaze lingering on the two warriors standing guard at the throne room door.

Lifting her red eyebrows high, the redhead stares at Jasper in shock, "you want to go back home?"

"No," the brown-haired teen corrects, "go, go." Myles clenches her jaw, following his eyes down the hallway to the guards. "We don't owe these people or the asswipes at Arkadia anything."

"If we go now," Myles whispers, locking her hazel eyes on Jasper's brown. "Pike will start another war, and their guns will wipe everyone here out."

"That's not our problem," Jasper counters frustratedly. "We've fixed everything for them, if they want to fuck it up, that's on them."

"And the people here?" Myles queries quietly, getting an angsty eye roll in reply. "I don't want to repeat history. There needs to be survivors with this one."

"There are no survivors," he snaps, "there's no winners, there's nothing. There's only more wars."

"Just," the red-haired teen tries to placate exasperatedly, lifting a hand up and hovering it in the air between them. "Just calm down. If Arkadia did anything, Lexa wouldn't call us all this way to talk it out."

"Yes, she would," Jasper argues, "she'd do it so we'd be out of the way of their army."

"Then we would've heard something from Finn and Octavia," Myles rationalises, much to her best friend's dismay. Scoffing, the brown-haired teen turns his head away, looking at the wall and shaking his head before reaching a hand up to his forehead. "What's got you so antsy?"

"I'm tired," the teen answers instantly, looking at his best friend warily. "I'm tired of wars. I'm tired of death. I'm tired of it all. Aren't you?"

"Yeah," the redhead nods, not missing a beat, "you know I am. If – if you wanna go… go." Jasper tilts his head, looking at Myles like he knows that they both know he won't go without both of his best friends. "When it's over, we'll come find you."

"It'll never be over," Jasper argues, furrowing his eyebrows in agitation. "There's always going to be something else. Hell, even in the villages there's death and fighting and pain."

"Well," Myles shrugs, shaking her head quickly while her mind scours for something helpful to say. "Don't go to a village then." Jasper stops, looking at his best friend exasperatedly. "If you didn't want to come, you shouldn't've come. I'll handle this."

"I'm not saying I didn't want to come," the brown-haired teen declares lowly, "I just want to make sure if we're here for another war, we're on the same page."

"Are we ever not?" Myles asks, studying the teens anxious, yet friendly demeanour.

Jasper stops again, his fidgeting dying down at her words, "I – just." Taking a deep breath, his brown eyes flick over to the guards patiently waiting for them to finish so they can open the doors. "Obsessing over making ourselves useful keeps us distracted. Keeps us alive, but there are moments when we're doing nothing that we don't want to die. Like this morning. We weren't doing anything, but we were fine."

"Okay," the redhead breathes out slowly. "You want a break, but not too much of it so we don't blow our brains out."

"And not too close," Jasper tacks on, "but not too far so we can still distract ourselves."

"You think we say 'fuck everyone at Arkadia'," Myles enquires seriously, trying the idea out on her tongue, "and start on one of the Havens by ourselves?"

"If we're saying fuck Arkadia," the brown-haired teen muses, "we could use one of the far out ones. Down between Shallow Valley and Broadleaf. Build a new base there, far away from anyone else. Middle of fucking nowhere."

"Great," Myles states, preferring the lightening of the heaviness that was choking the air between them. "We'll figure it out after this."

"If it's some war shit – " Jasper grumbles out once the red-haired teen starts walking forward again.

"I'll handle it," the redhead offers, cutting him off and stopping. "You can handle Ray or Finn or… something." Pulling out the flask tucked behind the water-skin clipped to her belt, Myles holds it out to Jasper. "Here."

"I have my own," the brown-haired teen reminds her, taking a step forward to continue to the throne room but halting in confusion.

"Yeah," Myles agrees, lifting a delicate eyebrow up high, "and you're still spiralling. Chug it and let's get this over with so we can go home."

Taking the skinny flask, his hand kindly pulls the cool metal away from his best friend with a look of admiration and gratefulness radiating from his brown eyes. Myles doesn't drop her hand completely once the lazily painted over rust spots leave her fingertips, instead waiting patiently as Jasper tips his head back. After two large gulps, Jasper hands the strongly smelling alcohol back to the redhead who immediately mimics his action to drink the rest of the liquid. A pleasant burn blossoms in her chest, erupting up her throat, the sensation hanging around a moment after the cool metal leaves her mouth and is tucked back in behind her water-skin.

"Thanks," Jasper breathes out, his posture and the inflection in his tone relaying to Myles his calming demeanour.

Striding forward to get to the guards patiently waiting at the throne room doors, it's instantly apparent to the redhead the complete change in atmosphere. There's no thickness in the air anymore, the stress and tension that was weighing her best friend down having gone almost entirely. Whether it was the drink or the talk, Myles doesn't know, and she's run out of time to figure it out.

The guards don't make a move as the two Arker's near them, neither one saying a word even as the two teens stroll to a stop in bewilderment. Quickly glancing at each other's puzzled expressions before speaking, Myles can't help the new trickling of dread squirming around in her gut.

"Osir kamp hir gon hang Heda au," Myles states, her tone more blunt than it had been with Jasper. [AN: "We're here to see the Commander."]

"Em kamp raun em ridon," one of the men answers, nodding his head towards the doors to Lexa's room down the hall. [AN: "She's in her quarters."]

Myles follows the motion to see the commander's bedroom doors and the two warriors standing guard outside of them. Sweeping her gaze back to Jasper, the redhead takes a small step backwards, turning her body slightly towards the bedroom. Her hazel eyes seem to convey her uncertainty of the strange and unfamiliar circumstances, and Jasper lightens the air somewhat.

"Osir nou na ai op som osir nou gaf ai op," Jasper drawls out, "nami?" [AN: "We're not gonna see something we don't want to see, are we?"]

The other warriors face twitches, but his expression remains stoic, "smak dou fos." [AN: "Knock first."]

"Ah," Myles mutters out unhappily, her shoulders slumping in displeasure and meeting Jasper's eyes once more before turning tiredly. "God."

There's a weighted reluctance to their steps now, making them feel like they're dragging their feet to reach the next door. Neither teen has a chance to knock on the commander's bedroom door, however, as the two warriors instantly open both of them the second the two Arker's get close. Inside the large and luxurious bedroom, Clarke lies on her side on top of the covers of the wide bed, drawing on some parchment with bits of charcoal. Lexa halts in her mindless pacing by the foot of the bed, both young women looking up at their visitors.

Upon seeing her two friends, Clarke quickly climbs off of the bed to stand beside Lexa, matching her short steps in acknowledgment towards the teens.

"Good morning," Lexa nods to them, before diverting her gaze to the men behind them quickly. "Lid in ofon kom Haihefa." [AN: "Bring in the King's gift."]

Turning to glance at the men closing the doors behind them in confusion, both teens' curiosity spills over their dread pleasantly.

"What'd Roan give you?" Myles implores, scrunching together her eyebrows.

"Nothing," Clarke supplies with a shrug. "It's not for us."

Jasper quirks an eyebrow, "then whose gift is it?"

"Wanheda's," Lexa explains, her brown eyes locked on Myles' surprised hazel. "The messenger said this is both proof of Azgeda's loyalty to the coalition and an answer to a yet unanswered question."

"Well," the redhead replies awkwardly, shuffling on her feet slowly. "I don't know how many more questions the man can have. What is it?"

"We don't know," Clarke sighs, elaborating when the other Arker's only look at her with perplexed expressions. "We were waiting for you."

Looking at Jasper with a red eyebrow quirked, the boy utters, "well, this'll be interesting."

The doors behind the two best friends open suddenly, and Jasper and Myles both turn around to face Titus entering, his arms falling from the wooden doors to his sides. Titus' steps don't falter or slow, continuing into the room and veering to the left-hand side of the doors. Immediately behind the Flamekeeper are four warriors, their hands carrying a wide, skinny crate made of red-tinged wood with Azgeda symbols carved into the sides of it.

It's long, yet its height is less than half as high as the length is long. Morbid curiosity tugs Myles' feet forward a step and a half. Her red eyebrows are stuck in their furrowed and down position, watching the men lower the crate to the ground just inside of the doorway. The size of the crate itches unpleasantly at Myles' mind, the last conversation she had with the King replaying in her mind as Titus comes to a stop beside her.

It's a coffin.

"The gift from King Roan kom Azgeda for Wanheda," Titus announces, staring at the commander with a brief sideways glance to Myles in acknowledgment. "As you requested, Heda."

"Mochof, Titus," Lexa replies, her gaze switching to the redhead's hazel eyes. "Are you ready to see what's in the box or not?" [AN: "Thank you, Titus."]

"You want to open a coffin in your bedroom?" Myles counters, her red eyebrows raising imploringly at the commander. Lexa merely twitches an eyebrow impatiently, and the red-haired teen let's out a long sigh, taking a tentative step towards the crate. "Yeah."

"Allow me," Titus declares, holding out an arm with a large dark purple coat sleeve dancing underneath like a wing. Myles stops, and the Flamekeeper turns around to face the crate completely to gesture to the guards in a short and controlled swirling motion. The warriors move before his arms have fallen slack again, his hands holding one another against his abdomen. "Open it."

Jasper looks at Myles with a lighthearted look on his face at the ridiculousness of it, but the redhead's hazel eyes are on the crate she steps toward slowly. Something about the way she stalks forward unsettles Jasper, or perhaps it's just the curiosity of it all, and her best friend follows closely behind her. Shifting the small rusted metal and wooden plates that lock the lid of the box shut feels like it takes an eternity, but the wooden top is lifting up before Myles has even ceased her cautious steps.

Myles' blood runs cold and all the breath leaves her lungs, her slow steps halting at the sight of the bloodied and restrained yet alive man. Even with the blood and grime caked on his pale skin, the redhead recognises exactly who he is. He hasn't looked up yet, the sunlight streaming in from the commander's bedroom window behind the Arker's blinding his vision. The smell of days old blood and urine clogs her senses, choking the air.

"Carl Emerson," Myles breathes out in shock, repeating the same words the man had said to her and Marcus over and over again. Emerson looks up, his eyes squinting at the red-haired teen and his face twisting up bitterly. Jasper's frozen directly behind the redhead, but Myles wasn't paying enough attention to notice if it was because he recognised the man, or the name falling from his best friend's tongue. "Mount Weather Security Detail."

In an instant, the beaten and bloodied man springs from the box with a guttural and muffled roar through his gag. Myles is so shocked she doesn't move, doesn't flinch, doesn't blink, but Jasper does. Emerson is too quick, having gotten the element of surprise on both Arker's and barrels into the two of them before they can even register his approach.

Falling to the floor with the mountain man's whole weight on her body brings the red-haired teen back to the present. Reaching her right arm up, Myles crosses it over both of their bodies to grasp the right side of his face and slam him down to her right. Jasper, having fallen down with them both, surges forward from his spot on the ground, tackling the screaming man before he can clamber back on top of her.

"Get the fuck off of her!" Jasper growls out, coming up onto his knees and shoving the angrily scrambling forward man away.

Emerson tries to fly past Jasper, scrambling to get his feet planted on the ground to have that advantage over Jasper and leap around him. Myles scatters to her feet when Jasper yanks the middle-aged man towards himself to keep him away from his best friend, already sensing what would happen next.

Flinging his chained hands around and up, Emerson smashes them into Jasper's face and Myles barely hears Clarke's panicked screeching over the deranged man's muffled roars.

Jasper's head whips to the side with a nasty gash on his cheek just as Myles reaches for Emerson's bound hands to wrench them away from her best friend, and the man pounces on her again. He drops his weight on top of her, the redhead's head hitting the ground much harder this time with him crushing his weight much higher on her body. Emerson's hands quickly reach for her throat, clamping down as hard as he can with his chained together hands. Hazel eyes bulge out as her hands fly up to his and his face, but her gaze is transfixed.

Emerson's skin has turned a bright shade of red under the deep shade of dried blood coating his beaten skin. Green eyes are clouded and bloodshot, pure hatred and murderous rage tinging the colour muddily. Veins pop out on his forehead and his neck, the skin pulled tight with his clenched muscles. Myles kicks her legs, trying desperately to jolt his weight enough to be able to reach her boot to his leg or abdomen to shove him off of her.

"Stop him!" Clarke screeches, appearing above them both and trying to yank on his shoulders.

"Get him out of here!" Lexa bellows, storming over to hover around Clarke protectively as her warriors tear the deranged and screaming man from the red-haired teen. Emerson wasn't obstructing Myles' breathing for long, but the release of his brutally strong grip from around her throat is so relieving it physically hurts. Strained and loud gasping chokes at her lungs, and Clarke's kind hands fuss over her body as she tries to roll on her side. "Put him in a cage, now!"

Jasper is by her other side in the blink of an eye, rubbing a hand across her shoulders. Huffing and gasping pathetically, Myles reaches up quickly to grasp onto his hands to anchor herself enough to pull herself up. Getting the hint immediately, her best friend grips her hands back and helps her into a sitting position. Clarke's hands prod at her neck, her slowly calming breathing still feeling and sounding strained and wet.

"Is she okay?" Lexa asks, standing beside the Arker's and crouching down to their height.

"Mm," Myles hums, coughing wheezily at the unpleasant feeling of her throat vibrating with anything over than greedy gulps of cool air. "I'm fine."

Hazel eyes flick up, getting a quick glimpse of the struggling and screaming mountain man kicking and flailing aggressively as he's hauled out of the room by Lexa's warriors.

Clarke's hands continue the same worried actions they have been doing for the last fifteen minutes. They're sitting beside each other on a bed in the room under the commander's that's designated for the Skaikru ambassadors. Her gentle and kind fingers prod at the aggravated skin on Myles' throat as hazel eyes watch her best friend pace fretfully. They all know her throat is fine, a little sore, but that's the extent of the damage.

Myles also knows the reason Clarke's mother-henning her isn't because she's worried about the damage; it's because she's anxious. It's the same reason Jasper is pacing back and forth wildly, an itching energy pumping through their veins naggingly.

"Of fucking course it was Emerson," Myles huffs, bouncing both of her legs frustratedly. Flicking her hazel gaze from Jasper's angrily stomping form to Clarke's distracted blue eyes, the blonde takes a second before meeting her stare. "We heard him getting the marrow. We knew."

A response doesn't come from the quietly steaming blonde haired teen, but her best friend.

"Why does everything…" Jasper rants in a dangerously low tone, "literally fucking everything always lead back to that place. Why? What fucking good does that do?"

Just as Jasper's finishing up his last sentence, he grasps an empty hand-sculpted vase from the table he paces in front of and chucks it across the room. It doesn't shatter completely, a large chunk of the decades old clay cracks off when it first hits the ground and it crumples in on itself as it rolls to the side. Clarke flinches at the sound, her fingers jumping against the red skin of Myles' neck. The blonde heaves a sigh, bringing her hands down and watching the equally angry brown-haired teen stalk back and forth.

Myles isn't as angry as her two friends are; instead, she's frustrated and embarrassed. They should've known it was Emerson. He, Dante and Cage are the only three that they knew for sure had the marrow, and the other two are dead. With everything that's happened the last few weeks, there's only one way this can end. No wonder they're all so frustrated.

"What else could he have done?" Clarke's quiet and reluctant voice asks, elaborating when Jasper only scoffs and flicks his hands around his head in aggravation. "They were watching us since we landed. What other intel could he have given to Azgeda?"

"Nothing that'll matter now," Myles murmurs, her voice barely heard over Jasper's loud, 'anything!'.

"You think Roan will really help us?" Clarke implores the redhead, her voice tinged with sour disbelief as Jasper rants to himself under his breath.

"He gave him to us," the red-haired teen shrugs halfheartedly, staring at her best friend worriedly and trying to decipher his furious mutterings. "I trust him."

"It's not him that's the problem," Jasper exclaims, momentarily stuttering in his pacing to look at Myles with the same maddened look in his eyes that Bellamy had. "If they were only after the fucking mountain, they would've executed Emerson the second he gave them the codes. They didn't."

"They kept him and tortured him," the blonde finishes, and Myles clenches her jaw.

"Roan's just become King," Myles reasons slowly, "not everyone will accept that straight away, but he won't let an army – "

"Unless they overthrow him," her best friend explodes, bringing both his hands to his head and pulling on fistfuls of his short brown hair.

"If they had any other plans," the redhead tries to placate when both of the other two only seem to get more restless. "They would've done them by now. They wouldn't've waited this long after Nia's death."

"What are – " Clarke starts, her voice dying out suddenly when a sharp and short knock sounds on the door.

"Min yo op," Myles calls, her anxiously bouncing legs becoming still. [AN: "Enter."]

The doors to the spacious and expensively decorated bedroom opens, revealing two warriors. Only one of them steps inside, the woman staying at the doorway respectfully.

"Heda gaf in ogeda Skaikru bandrona na kom raun," the man announces in a strong and level tone. [AN: "The commander calls for the presence of the Sky People ambassadors."]

"Mochof, shilkru," the redhead replies, standing up from the bed she and Clarke sit on and locking her hazel eyes on Jasper's in a warning to calm down. [AN: "Thank you, guards."]

His brown eyes simmer with a dark burning hatred for Mount Weather and his arms and legs bounce in restless discomfort, but his pacing ceases and he bites his tongue. Clarke stands up beside Myles, following her calmly out the doors of the Skaikru ambassador's bedroom doors that the two warriors hold open for them. Jasper slinks behind them, following them with a reluctant stutter in his steps that the two warriors following behind them all ignore.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Myles breathes in a deep breath, steeling herself for the outcome she knows is the only viable option. It does nothing to curb the uncomfortable and painful squeezing of her lungs, or the pitiful weight sitting in her gut, or even the lump that's found itself in her throat. Unfortunately, this situation isn't unlike anything she and Jasper have had to contend with the last three months, and it bears a striking similarity to most of the problems she's had to weasel her way out of in life.

They can all hear the commander and her Flamekeeper when they step off the last step, their two muffled voices tossing out bickering words Myles can't quite make out. Meeting Clarke's awkward glance with an eyebrow quirked, the Arker's steps falter for a second as they weave amongst the few ambassadors and chieftains that exit the throne room doors. As soon as they reach the doors, the commander and Titus' hushed, arguing words from behind the throne become a lot clearer.

"You are letting her cloud your judgement – " Titus lectures, and Myles' red eyebrows twitch together in confusion.

Are they arguing about the commander's relationship with Clarke or her friendly allegiance with Myles?

"I thought you were supposed to be loyal!" Lexa snaps in a dangerously low tone.

Something wavering in the commander's strong voice makes Myles slow her steps and flick her hazel eyes to her friends and around the people leaving the throne room.

"I am," the Flamekeeper counters heatedly, his eyes locked on Lexa's in a fiery battle. "But you are too personally in – " Titus cuts himself off when his eyes glance over to the three figures entering the throne room. His pale brown eyes dance over Clarke, but his whole posture shifts and something flickers across his face when his eyes land on Myles. Turning his whole body to them as Lexa looks to see what's caught his attention, Titus states the Arker's presence. "Here they are."

Lexa's eyes flick between the two best friends before settling and softening on Clarke, but Titus' glaring gaze is still stuck on Myles. Stepping forward and slouching back predatorily, Myles quirks an eyebrow at Titus.

"You wanted to see us," Myles relays, turning her eyes back to the commander. "Heda?"

"Yes," Lexa confirms, her tone calm but deathly seriously as she steps down the steps of her throne to stand in front of the teens. "I need to discuss the fate of the last Mountain Man."

"I believe he deserves death," Titus interjects gruffly, crossing his arms and staring at Myles in a silent challenge.

Myles meets his eyes, raising an eyebrow slowly and not daring to back down once.

"They can speak for themselves, Titus," the commander snaps harshly, whipping around to look at the man pointedly. The Flamekeeper pulls his head back ever so slightly, swallowing and pressing his lips shut. Content he won't interrupt again, Lexa turns back around to face the Arker's, looking to Clarke first. "Clarke?"

When a short beat of hesitation follows, Myles tears her eyes away from Titus to look at Clarke.

"Titus is right," Clarke declares evenly, and the redhead can't help how her head sinks forward and her mouth falls open in shock as her eyebrows furrow.

"What?" Myles instinctually blurts, utterly perplexed on how they could've possibly wound up on different pages about this.

Jasper stays silent, not tensing the same way Myles does in shock, not reacting at all to their friends damning words. Lexa, on the other hand, reels her head back, her pink lips falling open and slack in the same disbelieving confusion Myles' had. Her whole expression and body language displays how taken aback she is, and if the redhead wasn't so shocked herself, she'd be counting down the seconds until the commander gets offended by how hypocritical this is.

"You see?" Titus calmly calls out, slowly stepping down the steps to reach the commander's side.

"Just," Myles objects, flustered, holding a hand up and towards the bald man. "Shut up for a sec," turning back to Clarke, the blonde refuses to meet her bewildered hazel eyes. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Aggie," Jasper agrees, his eerily relaxed voice finally getting Clarke's blue eyes to look away from the commander's steadily angering brown. "They're right."

Whipping around to stare at her best friend in absolute shock-horror, "they're what now?" Jasper doesn't elaborate, instead meeting her appalled eyes calmly. His silence and stillness reinforces the words, and Myles shakes her head to try to clear the headache that's starting to form. "What, and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck."

"It is human nature to need vengeance," Titus continues, his words grinding in the red-haired teens mind and making her roll her eyes. "Only once satiated can there be peace. That is our way."

"That was your way," Myles emphasises, spinning her now fearful eyes around to look at the man in annoyance.

"Clarke…" the commander breathes, locking gazes with the blonde and flicking her brown eyes between Clarke's two blue. Clarke doesn't look away, but her mouth twitches with words she doesn't try to say. At her lack of reply, Lexa's demeanour changes, her nose slightly scrunching up as a bitter look twists at her features. Her eyes become still, staring into one of Clarke's blue and hardening at the blonde's stance. "So, blood must not have blood applies only when it is my people who bleed?"

The commander's tone is soft and quiet, the harsh undertone rumbling through her words is enough to make the redhead's blood run cold. Myles shakes her head, staring at her friend with the same betrayed expression she's held ever since she voiced her agreement with the Flamekeeper. Clarke doesn't say anything, however, but doesn't look away and the redhead scoffs obnoxiously.

"This is different," Jasper defends, and a sarcastic laugh bubbles out of his best friend's lips.

"Oh?" Myles goads, swivelling her head to look at him again, her lightweight, shoulder length red hair swaying. "How?"

"That was about stopping a war," Clarke answers darkly, and the redhead whips her head back around. "This is about finishing one."

"No, it isn't," the red-haired teen denounces, "the war on Mount Weather finished the day I pulled the lever."

"Really?" Jasper counters, shrugging over-exaggeratedly. "Then why is he alive?"

"I'm sorry," Clarke interjects when Myles goes to respond, locking her eyes on the redhead fleetingly before looking to Lexa again. "But if you want my advice, I agree with Titus."

"They all deserve to die for what they did," Jasper seconds. "None of them is innocent, especially not him. He deserves to die."

"I'm not looking for advice," the commander informs her darkly, "I'm looking for a decision."

Sensing Lexa doesn't want the hypocrisy of taking his life, Titus quickly adds to the conversation.

"He was gifted to Skaikru," the robed man appeals to Clarke and Jasper, switching his gaze between them only and avoiding Myles' eyes. "The crime he stands charged with is against your people."

"He wasn't gifted to Skaikru," Myles reminds them, locking her eyes on the commander's. "He was gifted to me."

"Your council remains divided," Lexa states collectedly, her respectful and infuriated eyes locked on the redhead. "You've been who I've looked to for decisions for your people since the day I met you, but you've chosen to not stand alone." Clenching her jaw, Myles bounces her legs at the words and the reminder that she's once again found herself in a leadership position she loathes. "So, what will it be then, Myles? Banishment from our lands forever? Or death by forty-nine cuts from your hand?" Lexa fleetingly glances at the other two Arker's, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she prepares to walk away. "You have till sundown for your council to come to an agreement."

On cue, the commander circles around the Arker's and walks down the strip of red carpet to leave the throne room. Titus and the three Arker's remain, Clarke and Jasper looking at each other, but Myles' gaze remains fixed ahead at the throne. Guards that were scattered about the room follow Lexa obediently, and the Flamekeeper watches them all leave before his eyes land on the redhead.

Hazel eyes flick to meet his almost instantly, and the smug gleam in his pale brown eyes reminds Myles of the predicament they're in.

"Could you give us a minute?" Myles implores bluntly, the lump in her throat making her voice sound unrecognisable to her own ears.

"Of course," Titus agrees, bending over in a small, respectful bow before circling around them to leave the room.

The red-haired teen doesn't move her eyes from staring vacantly at the spot where the bald man's tattooed head had been, not until she hears the Flamekeeper pull both doors shut for their privacy. Sighing heavily, Myles' shoulders relax from her shocked, rigid posture. Bringing a hand up to her face to rub one of her temples, tired hazel eyes finally dance over to her best friend. Jasper's already shaking his head, his breath huffing through his nostrils sarcastically.

"So much for being on the same page," Myles mutters, stepping forward a few steps to walk away from them before she turns and looks at her friends.

"You can't be serious," Jasper scoffs, stepping backwards and looking around the room with his head still shaking side to side.

"Aggie," Clarke appeals, staring unwaveringly at the redhead. "Think this through."

"I am," the red-haired teen sighs, meeting her blue gaze. "We can't expect the commander to completely uproot the way they've lived for centuries and then do exactly what we've spent the last three months asking her not to do."

"Then what are we s'posed to do, huh?" Jasper exclaims, spinning around and looking at his best friend frustratedly.

"Do you think I want to live in a world," Myles starts, the skin around her nose twisting up in disgust. "Where there's someone from that fucking mountain out there?"

"It sounds like you do," her best friend argues, hunching forward as he gestures sharply.

"Pulling the lever didn't just save us," Clarke reminds her hotly. "It saved the grounders. He tried to kill us – "

"But he didn't," the redhead counters, "and he's alive because I didn't kill him." Hazel eyes are dark and stormy, locked on Clarke's brightly blazing blue, the weight of Mount Weather hanging heavily in the air. "He's alive, because he's got our marrow in him. Mine, or Monty's," at their best friend's name, Myles switches her eyes to lock on Jasper's. "Or Fox's. Or Gavin's. Or Jessica's. Or Harper's. Or Sca – "

"Exactly!" Jasper explodes, flinging his arms up aggressively. "He doesn't fucking deserve to live!"

"Does Pike?" Myles shouts back, furrowing her eyebrows. "And the rest of the army that gunned down – "

"This is nothing like that!" Clarke interjects, cutting the redhead off. "Two hundred years of slaughtering grounders and draining their blood!"

"Which is exactly why I'm ending the cycle of violence," the red-haired teen states calmly, levelling Clarke with a strong and unshakable stare.

The words make her fall silent, and Myles can see the cogs turning in her mind as she understands and recognises the words. It's the same words Myles had used days prior when she was convincing Lexa not to start a war with Arkadia over the 300 slain warriors. Clarke's silence and slowly relaxing posture only serves to escalate Jasper's jittery and bubbling anxiety.

"Killing him does the same thing," Jasper declares, and hazel eyes slip closed before locking on his brown tiredly. "Rule number fifty-eight, Aggie."

"That's exactly what I'm doing, JJ," Myles assures softly, spying Clarke shift on her feet uncomfortably in the corner of her hazel eyes.

"No, it isn't," the brown-haired teen refutes, throwing an arm up in the air. "You're trying to avoid it!"

"Rule 58…" Clarke starts slowly, her voice unsure. "… is 'mothers are unpredictable', right?"

"That's 56," the redhead corrects, "58 is 'if you start making adult decisions, keeping making them'."

"No one," Jasper states haltingly, his tone low and drawled out in pained seriousness. "From that mountain was innocent. None of them." Looking at her best friend sadly, pity for him seeps into her hazel eyes. "They all took the blood treatment. They all took lives. They were all happy to keep doing that if it meant they could live. He is no different, and now it's time to finish it."

"If I do that," Myles replies calmly, matching his low and slow tone. "It shows the commander and every grounder on Earth that that's okay." Jasper tilts his head in frustration, but his resolution doesn't waver. Myles continues, stepping a half of a step towards him. "That a life for a life is okay. That Finn should've been tortured and killed because it's okay. That I should die, and Monty, and Raven, and Clarke, and you." Finally, his resolve shifts, his hard stance chipping away but the anger and resentment continues to build deep within him even as his posture relaxes. "We need to end the cycle of violence so there can be peace. Killing him would only end the cycle of peace we've started."

"He deserves it," Jasper says calmly, his voice thick and his posture slouched with his head dipped back in pitiful defeat.

"So do I," the redhead whispers, "but after all I've done, if I'm allowed to live, he is, too."

"We're not the same as him," Clarke grits out scornfully, and Myles locks her eyes on the blonde's blue. She doesn't say anything, knows no amount of arguing will sway either of their opinions on that fact, so she doesn't even bother. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before Clarke disrupts it. "He gave the self-destruct codes to the Ice Nation. Blew up his home and our friends. If we don't kill him, he'll try to hit us again."

"Azgeda won't help him anymore," Myles shrugs, her tone soft and tired.

"He tried to kill you this morning," Jasper reminds them bitterly, "we can't know he won't try again."

"It'll be one against Polis," the red-haired teen offers disinterestedly. "One against Arkadia."

"One who knows how to wire bombs," the blonde recalls, "he tried to blow the door in Mount Weather. He knows how to use guns. If he gets the advantage, he could do a lot of damage."

It's silent again as Myles weighs her options. A solution pops into her mind, but it's not one she's happy with. Immediately, her eyes flick to Jasper's to find his brown gaze already watching her. His brown eyebrows raise at his best friend in encouragement as her knee juts out nervously.

"What if there might be a way…" Myles starts hesitantly, already knowing and expecting the backlash that's about to come from her suggestion. "… to figure it out… directly…"

"He tried to kill you an hour ago!"

Myles sits on the edge of her bed in the Skaikru ambassador's room on the floor below Lexa's room. It's looks almost exactly the same as it did a few short hours before, except this time Clarke is nowhere to be seen. She'd stuck with Lexa once the meeting with Emerson had been arranged, and now all there is to do is wait.

And that's what she does. Myles sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over with her chin resting in one of her hands as her elbow digs into her tight black jean-clad knee. Hazel eyes follow her worriedly pacing best friend, trying hard not to roll her eyes when he starts up the same conversation they've had a dozen times already.

"This is a really stupid idea," Jasper warns her, a distinctive hint of worry trembling through his words.

"I know," Myles sighs distractedly, her voice making his anxious brown eyes meet hers.

"You shouldn't be going in there alone," her best friend frets, his voice jittering with his stressed and jerky movements. "He tried to kill you this morning."

"He won't do that again," the redhead asserts in an emotionally drained tone, lifting her head from her hand and letting her arm fall forward limply. "And I won't be alone."

"Oh, yeah," Jasper scoffs sarcastically, "because last time the guards were a big help."

"Lexa gave them orders," Myles replies dully, "they'll listen."

"And if they don't?" Jasper enquires in concern, but Myles knows this isn't really about what might happen to her.

"Then," the red-haired teen starts, "Lexa will let you kill him."

Jasper halts, his whole body going to completely stiff and still at the words. It's not until the look of utter concern and pity fills his brown eyes that Myles realises the implication of her words. Of course Jasper picked up on it before her; they've spent the last three months going between thinking life wasn't worth it and they aren't worth life. Trying desperately to scrape together anything and everything that could give them meaning or a purpose, clinging to each other through it all.

Swallowing thickly, Myles doesn't dispute the implication that weighs heavily on their hearts. Neither does Jasper, though he looks like the words are on the tip of his tongue. Slowly, when his best friend does nothing but drift her hazel eyes away, Jasper's posture slumps sadly. Stepping towards her, Myles turns her whole head away from him as his mouth opens with comforting and loving words already forming in his throat.

Knocking at the door stops him, distracting them both from the tense atmosphere in the room. Hearing the short knock makes hazel eyes swing to the doors as she springs to her feet. Sharing a brief look with her restlessly worried best friend, Myles calls out to their visitors.

"Yo na min op," the redhead says in greeting, nervous dread growing heavier and heavier in her gut. [AN: "You may come in."]

Two men in heavy armour and sporting large machetes and swords step in, one being the man who escorted them around hours before. It's time.

"Em's ogud," one man informs them with a curt nod, only stepping a foot into the room out of respect. [AN: "He's ready."]

Breathing in deeply to try to steady the static crackling through her veins, Myles locks her eyes on Jasper's quickly with an elegant eyebrow raised before walking towards the door.

"Mochof," Myles nods at them, slipping out into the hallways and heading straight for the stairs. [AN: "Thank you."]

"Mochof," Jasper echoes, following closely behind her and copying his best friend when she takes the stairs two at a time. [AN: "Thank you."]

"Pro," the men chorus out, slowly going up behind them. [AN: "You're welcome."]

When they step off the staircase, Jasper gently grips Myles' blotchy deep maroon coloured long sleeve to stop her. Clenching her jaw, Myles slows to a halt, looking up at her slightly taller best friend as the two guards stop on the stairs behind them.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Jasper asks, his tone soft and caring.

"I just wanna get it over with," Myles sighs, her eyebrows raising high tiredly. Shaking her head slightly, her shoulder length hair brushes against her shoulders. "I don't want to have to see him again."

"I'll be at the door," the brown-haired teen assures her protectively, "if he tries something – "

"I will yell for you," the redhead finishes with a slight chuckle, her hazel eyes softening.

"I was going to say," Jasper corrects her, leaning in close and lowering his voice. "If he tries something," brown eyes flick between her two hazel seriously, "kill him."

"Yeah," Myles promises, the seriousness and worry evident in his tone and features making it physically impossible for her to refuse his request. The word doesn't appease him, it's only when she nods her head that Jasper relaxes and glances at the two guards waiting patiently on the steps. "Either way, when it's done, it'll be over."

"Yeah," Jasper agrees, nodding his head and letting his grip fall slack.

Jasper steps towards the throne room, but Myles heaves another steadying sigh before following him. He stops again when he reaches the door, turning to look at Myles who's only a second behind him, hardening her features and squaring her shoulders. Only meeting his brown eyes for an instant, the redhead locks her gaze on the throne room guards and nods her head once.

Obediently, they both reach forward and push open the doors for the Arker. They step inside, obstructing her view into the room for a split second. Emerson stands on the red strip of carpet under the thrones stairs, his arms tied to a wooden post behind him. Guards and warriors litter the room, standing in pairs of two around Emerson. The mountain man is still in his bloody and torn clothes, but now there's a grey sack covering his head loosely.

"Give us a minute," Myles orders the guards in the room in a loud and strong voice, getting a frustrated look from Jasper as he reaches for her arm.

Myles dodges him pointedly, stalking into the room. At the sound of her voice, Emerson jerks and grunts under his restraints, and hazel eyes watch the movement as the guards walk around them. Slowing her predatory steps that the mountain man can't see to a stop, the redhead waits until she hears the guards shut the doors behind themselves to lift the sack.

Emerson grunts, his harsh breaths emphasised under the greying tan material as Myles grips the sack and pulls it off of his head in one fluid motion. The mountain man's wild eyes lock on her hard hazel instantly, his nostrils flaring with his loud breaths. His throat bobs against the thick leather collar fastened tightly around his neck and chained to the post behind him.

"Carl Emerson," Myles recites, her hard hazel eyes unblinking. "Mount Weather Security Detail."

"I've heard what they call you now," Emerson sneers, leaning as far forward as the leather collar around his throat will allow him, straining his voice. "Wanheda, Commander of Death."

"Flattering," the redhead goads, tilting her head to the side and squinting her eyes mockingly. He doesn't reply, only jerks one of his arms in a halfhearted display of aggression as his nose and the skin above his upper lip scrunch up in disdain. "At least, more flattering than telling Azgeda the code so they could destroy the mountain for you."

"I didn't destroy Mount Weather," the mountain man replies calmly, his voice taking on a softer tone that makes Myles' stomach churn and her left arm twitch. "You did. Three hundred and eighty-one people." Myles can't help the flutter her eyes do or the slight twitchy movement her head makes. "One hundred and eighty-two men." Nausea floods her senses, the black pit of self-hatred widening in her heart. "One hundred and seventy-three women. Twenty-six children." Diverting her eyes for only a second to clench her jaw and harden her stance once more, Myles fights to regain control of herself and get the upper hand again. Rule 16. Rule 16. "Two of them were mine."

Locking her cold eyes back on his hatred-filled dark green, "you and your president gave me no choice."

Emerson screams, jolting forward in his restraints as his skin turns red and veins bulge over his face and neck. Myles hates this. She hates that there's a reason for this man's murderous rage. She hates that she's the one who gave him this reason. Hates that innocent people died because of this man's rage. Because of her decision. The angry movements don't make her flinch, her hard stance doesn't shift, but her eyes leave his for another moment at the memories of all the blistered and bloodied dead bodies in Mount Weather.

His heavy breathing huffs out a quiet and short sarcastic laugh that brings her eyes back to his. Emerson's body is still again, only moving with his harsh breaths, but he stays leaning as far forward as he can.

"What's the matter?" Emerson quips darkly, and a red eyebrow raises pointedly when a beat of silence follows. "You don't like to be faced with your demons?"

"Your fate is in my hands," Myles informs him, relaxing her raised eyebrow slowly. "If you want mercy, you're doing a bad job at persuading me."

This time when he laughs, it's not a quiet huff, but a low and dark chuckle that's immediately distinguishable as a humourless laugh. It feels almost wrong that the action lessens the discomfort in Myles' gut. She knows this is about to be the deciding factor that'll appease the Arker's council enough to come to a decision.

"I don't want mercy," the mountain man states with a large smile that falls into a deep frown quickly. "I want revenge." And there it is, but Myles waits, staying silent for a beat to drag more out of the rabid man. "I want you to suffer the same way that I've suffered."

A dark smile crosses Myles' face and the redhead turns, stalking back down the carpet towards the throne room doors. Perhaps she had just wanted a reason to kill Emerson, and that's why she pushed so hard to be the one to do this. She wanted him to be the catalyst to his own demise, to take some of that weight of making the decision off of her shoulders. And now she has it.

He wants revenge, to cause as much pain as possible. He's a danger; it'd be reckless to let him go.

"You can kill me, Myles," Emerson calls out, almost desperate to say the words. Myles clenches her jaw at the words, nodding shortly to the two guards who remained at the doors. "But you can never escape what you did." The warriors open the doors and Myles walks through them, locking eyes with Jasper who instantly matches her steps. "My pain ends today. Yours has just begun."

Out of all the last words the man had said, these are the only ones that make Myles stop. Jasper stops, too, both whipping around to look at the closing throne room doors. The words repeat over and over in her mind, her hard resolve of finally having made a firm decision flying out the window.

My pain ends today. Yours has just begun.

My pain ends today. Yours has just begun.

"Fuck," Myles mutters, locking her eyes on Jasper's, who's still glaring at the doors.

"What happened in there?" Jasper quizzes, putting a hand on his best friend's back and gently guiding her to the stairs.

"I decided to execute him," Myles answers with a sigh, stepping down the stairs slowly. "But I think I just changed my mind."

"You think?" Jasper echoes, confusion and resentment for the mountain man still rumbling through his voice. "He doesn't care if we execute him. Why wouldn't we?"

"Because," the redhead starts, stepping off on the floor below the throne room. "He wants to die for his pain to end."

"Fuck," Jasper repeats, tilting his head back and relaxing his shoulders as his mind comes to the same conclusion as the red-haired teen.

"Fuck indeed," Myles agrees, coming to a stop at the Skaikru ambassadors room. "What do you want to do?"

Jasper brings a hand to his forehead, rubbing above his eyebrows roughly as he thinks through the situation.

"If we banished him," the brown-haired teen questions lowly, dropping his hand from his face, "what's stopping him from coming back?"

"Put a kill order on him," Myles shrugs, resting a hand on the door, "drop his ass out of any clans territories and send riders with sketches to let them knows he's dead on sight."

"Clarke will be pissed," Jasper adds, and Myles shakes her head with a helpless shrug as she pushes open the door.

Myles makes it all the way inside, her hand leaving the wooden door entirely before she realises there's someone else in the room. Stopping in her tracks and staring dumbfounded at Titus pacing on the opposite side of the room to the beds, Jasper shuts the door just as Myles speaks up.

"Titus," the redhead greets suspiciously, and Jasper whips his head around as the man comes to a stop. "Can we help you?"

"What are you doing in our room?" Jasper queries, his tone slightly sharper than his best friend's had been.

The bald man just looks at them, not saying anything until Jasper furrows his eyebrows questioningly and juts his head forward impatiently.

"You spend so much time talking about peace," Titus announces, his words slow and proper. "I think it's time we made peace with one another, don't you?"

Something doesn't sit right in Myles' gut, and the suspicious look never leaves her delicate features.

"I wasn't aware," Myles answers, matching his slow speech, "that we had something that needed making peace."

"Your values and mine seem to be in conflict, always," the Flamekeeper elaborates, and Myles' expression relaxes as she tips her head back slightly.

"Well," the red-haired teen converses lightly, gesturing to the chairs around the table in the middle of the room. "Maybe we can find some common ground."

Both Arker's walk over to the chairs awkwardly, Titus' eyes flicking between the two of them continuously.

"You said conflicts," Jasper prods cautiously, sitting down in a ratty, patchwork patterned chair and glancing from Myles to Titus with squinted, distrustful eyes. "Are there any you had… specifically in mind?"

"Yes," Titus confirms, nodding once, "I appreciate the predicament you're both in." His pale brown, empty eyes switch between the two of them before halting on the redhead. "Especially you, Myles. I do. After convincing Lexa not to avenge the massacre of our army," the bald man's sharp tone isn't lost on Myles and it makes her harden herself once more, "it must be hard for you to choose to take your own revenge." Diverting her eyes with a sarcastic twitch of a red eyebrow, Titus continues unfazed. "Perhaps now you realise how difficult this new policy will be for our people to accept."

"What happened on that field," Myles begins, her tone unshakeable as her hazel eyes sweep back to his. "Didn't happen to your army. It was ours." Titus twitches, his jaw already moving to interject. "It was our friends. It was their families. It was people we saw every two weeks."

The Flamekeeper stills, letting the red-haired teen finish.

"We felt that loss," Jasper chimes in, "mourned the same as their villages."

"What happened to them was a crime done by only a few," Myles finishes, and the relaxed understanding Titus had started to hold evaporates. "That doesn't justify wiping all of our people out."

"Did you not wipe out his people," the Flamekeeper challenges evenly, and the words make Myles' left arm twitch and Jasper flinch. "For what only a few of them did to yours?"

"No," Myles answers just as evenly, "I did it for what they did to yours, too."

"You're leaders," the bald man appeals, glancing between them and disregarding her words. "Lexa listens to you." Titus leans forward, clasping his hands together and resting his arms on his knees with his eyes still going between the two of them. "Help me to protect her. Help me to protect Clarke." Suppressing an obnoxious snort, a sarcastic smile breaks across Myles' face as she looks to her best friend to see his reaction. Jasper doesn't meet her eyes, instead keeping his squinted, doubt-filled eyes on Titus. "'Blood must not have blood,' is folly. Our people will not accept it and I fear – " hearing the man cut himself off drags Myles' eyes back to his, her expression slackening. "I fear it will get them both killed."

"Our people," Jasper reiterates pointedly, "isn't just the people in Arkadia. It's your people, too."

"And we will not," Myles tacks on firmly, her eyes staring at the Flamekeeper unblinkingly. "Help you do something that leads to a war for our people."

Titus' eyes twitch, the flicking between the two Arker's slowing down dramatically as the silence drags on. His arms jump slightly on his knees with barely restrained twitches, making his body jolt from his position leant forward. Darkness swirls in his brown eyes, leaving a thick, bitter smell in the air.

After another awkward moment of the three of them staring each other down, Titus finally nods minutely with his eye still twitching. Grinding his teeth, the bald man stands from his seat, letting out a long breath.

"Then we're at an impasse," Titus declares, looking between them as if waiting for something else.

No one says anything more, so the Flamekeeper nods once more to them both and slowly walks around them to head for the door. Both best friends stare at his retreating form, neither one daring to remove their eyes from Titus until he closes the door behind himself.

Brown eyes meet hazel, both with their eyebrows held up at varying heights.

"What the fuck?" Myles states quietly, looking back towards the shut door and moving her hand in a small motion against the chair to point her fingers at the door.

"Is it just me…" Jasper enquires, "or does that dude always make your creep-o-meter go haywire?"

"You know what this means, right?" The red-haired teen asks softly, looking at her best friend seriously.

"Rule 16?" Jasper guesses, solidifying their resolve on what to do with Emerson.

"Rule 16."

Men and women bang on drums in the throne room, and Myles stands between Clarke and Jasper to the left of the commander's throne, watching them. Chieftains and clan representatives stand alongside the walls of the room, patiently and quietly standing in the place where their clans ambassadors would stand. Emerson is in the same place he was when Myles paid him a visit, chained by his wrists, ankles and neck to a post. He's facing the double doors that lead in and out of the throne room, doing the same thing everyone else in the room is doing.

Waiting for the commander.

A group of footsteps echo down the hallway and Myles straightens, flicking her eyes to Clarke and then Jasper. The double doors push open to reveal two warriors marching in front of Lexa and Titus, and two behind them. Both of the warriors at the front part, allowing the commander a clear look at Emerson, but she does little more than keep her eyes on him as her unfaltering steps go around him. As the brown-haired young woman is going around Emerson, her eyes switch to Clarke, and her gaze stays on her as she finishes passing the mountain man.

Once Lexa ascends the few steps that lead to her throne, she turns to face the room and raises a hand to silence the drum players. The room falls silent, everyone awaiting the commander's words.

"Osir hit choda op nat," Lexa's strong and commanding voice declares, "kom tona gou fou nau, hashta ai op hef na wan op." Jasper and Myles lock eyes, amusement dancing in their mirrored expressions. If there was any doubt left that she didn't want to kill this man, it would've disappeared at her choice of words and her bland tone. As if sensing the redhead's mischief, the commander's eyes turn to her and Myles meets her stare. "Wanheda." [AN: "We come together tonight, as we have countless times before, to watch a man die. Commander of Death."]

Lexa pulls a dagger from a weapon strap around her thigh, stepping down one step to hand it to one of her guards. The man obediently grasps it, walking over to the restrained man in the centre of the room and holding the knife up for the red-haired teen.

"Vengeance is yours," the commander finishes in a lifeless tone, not even looking at the redhead and Myles takes that as her cue.

Reciprocating one last reassuring glance from Clarke, Myles stalks down to stand in front of Emerson. Her posture is leant back obnoxiously, her stance nothing but predatory. Hazel eyes lock on Emerson's dark green, one of them oozing smugness and the other pleading for the sweet relief of death. Myles can't help feeling giddy, knowing full well she's going to thoroughly enjoy this.

Coming to a stop in front of Emerson, Myles accepts the dagger with a small smile and short thanks. Turning it over in her hands, Myles slowly circles around Emerson, switching her gaze from the last mountain man to Lexa only when she's between Emerson's back and Lexa. Tossing the knife up with a small flick of her wrist, the redhead catches it with a grip near the tip of the blade and quickly pegs it at the second step under where the commander stands.

The blade sticks out of the carpet-covered ground and several shocked gasps echo in the room, but Myles' bright eyes are watching Lexa light up with amusement. Pleased brown eyes finally look up to lock on Myles once again.

"No," the red-haired teen announces strongly and loudly, earning indistinct murmurs from the others in the room.

Titus' face twitches as Jasper and Clarke smile proudly from their spot across from him. Myles slowly stalks back around to face Emerson when the guard who was holding her knife returns to his place beside Lexa's throne. Emerson is breathing harsh rapid breaths, his whole body shaking against his restraints. Infuriated dark green eyes get stuck on Myles' hazel as she comes to a stop in front of him again.

"I don't know if your death would bring me peace," Myles divulges, loud enough for those in the room to hear her reasoning, but soft enough to portray her sincerity. "But I know that if it did, I don't deserve it."

"This man must die," Titus' angry voice declares, rushing down the steps to come face to face with Myles. Raising his voice into a bellow, the man lifts his arm to point at the commander. "If Skaikru will not take his life, then Heda will."

"Heda," Lexa bellows back, "will speak for herself. Enough, Titus."

"What the hell is this?" Emerson's quiet and panicked voice questions, and Myles shakes her head.

Deciding to speak honestly, Myles supplies, "if I killed you, I wouldn't be doing it for what you've done. I'd be killing you for what I've done." Emerson flicks his eyes between hers, and Myles raises her voice to address the room. "Ai ron disha hef em sonraun op." Murmurs fill the room again, and the redhead turns her hard eyes from Emerson to stare into Titus' furious brown. "Jus nou drein jus daun." [AN: "I give this man his life. Blood must not have blood."]

Emerson screams in a fit of rage, and disinterested hazel eyes look back at him. His face is bright red, his veins popping out as he yanks against his restraints. Myles doesn't tear her eyes away from the enraged, screaming man, not even as the crowd in the room chatters in loud voices to one another.

"Hosh op!" Lexa shouts authoritatively, making the room fall silent. "Emo kripon kom Maun nou na ge gada in kom won hef. Wanheda," Myles finally tears her eyes away from the seething mountain man to look at Lexa again, "knows this. Her actions show us a promise for a new future. A world in which violence does not always answer violence. A world in which our children can flourish without the shadow of death." [AN: "Quiet! The crimes of the mountain cannot be answered by one man."]

At the world children, hazel eyes look back at a now silent Emerson. Tears shine in his eyes, spilling down the dried blood coating his cheeks. The eerie quiet in the room makes Myles look back at the commander to find her already looking at her. It's a guarded look, one that Myles has learnt means she's looking for approval. Nodding subtly, enough for the young woman to discern, proud relief floods her usually stoic features. Hardening her eyes as she looks back at the crying man in front of her, Myles watches as he, too, hardens.

"This prisoner is banished from my lands," the commander announces. "He will live. But he will live with the ghosts of those he has lost." Emerson's hardened expression breaks, a wet sob escaping his throat, but hazel eyes don't look away. "Haunted until the end of his days by the knowledge that he is the last of his kind."

Myles steps forward to get right up close to Emerson, and Titus' eyes watch the movement curiously. When she's toe to toe with the beaten and bloodied, crying man, the redhead stops, her eyes locked on his.

"May you live forever."

A knock at the Skaikru ambassador's room makes the two best friends look up from re-strapping their weapon braces. Curiously locking their tired eyes with eyebrows quirked cautiously, Jasper calls out a greeting.

"Yo na min op," the brown-haired teen allows, glancing at the doors as Myles lifts her left leg up to rest her boot on the table. [AN: "You can come in."]

The doors push open and two sets of footsteps enter the room, causing hazel eyes to flick up from watching her hands strapping her weapons on her ankle. Clarke and Lexa shut the doors behind themselves, their expressions soft and relieved of the day's stress.

"Hey," Myles greets, stopping her motions and putting her leg down to step towards their visitors. "How're they handling it?"

"Good," Lexa supplies, and Jasper nods, straightening above the backpack he's refilling with their supplies to focus his attention on the commander. Turning away from the bag on his bed and mindlessly turning over one of their notebooks in his hands, Jasper waits for the young woman to continue. "I understand it was a difficult decision for you all to come to. I hope you know what you've done honours a strong and prosperous peace."

"Nah…" Jasper brushes off with a dopey expression on his face. "That might be part of why Aggie did it, but for us," the brown-haired teen gestures with the book between him and Clarke. "It was more petty than that."

Curious brown eyes switch between them before squinting at Clarke accusingly.

"Petty?" Lexa questions, an amused inflection betraying her curious tone. "How so?"

"Rule number 16," Clarke answers, her eyes soft and loving as they stare into Lexa's.

The commander's head tilts to the side, her gaze leaving her lovers to look between the two other Arker's in confusion.

"'If someone thinks they have the upper hand'," Myles recites, supplying the answer for the young woman's silent query.

"'Break it'," Jasper finishes, elaborating almost instantly. "He wanted Aggie to kill him."

"He wanted to have the upper hand on his own fate," Lexa realises, a proud gleam in her eyes when they lock back on Myles'. "Sparing a punishment for one that doesn't answer violence with violence, while also delivering the vengeance that was craved."

Myles quirks an eyebrow, tipping her head to the side and lifting a one-shouldered shrug with a kind smirk. Clarke smiles, her blue eyes leaving her two friends to glance at the bags and weapon straps that have been packed up.

"You guys leaving?" Clarke asks, a strange high pitch to her voice that makes the redhead lock eyes with her best friend.

"Yeah," the brown-haired Arker nods, mockingly suspicious eyes squinting at the love-birds. "Don't tell me you're getting married already."

"No," Lexa denies calmly with a friendly smile, looking at Clarke who lets out a shocked laugh. "An equally treasurable celebration in which your presence would be appreciated."

Myles' hazel eyes sweep over to a defeated Jasper, "told you Ascension Day was soon."

"Is it this week?" Jasper enquires, awkwardly shifting on his feet.

"You could say that," Clarke replies lightheartedly, though her expression has darkened so as to say 'just accept the damn invitation already'.

"It is tomorrow after first meal," the commander informs them, watching the best friends shocked faces mischievously. Clarke shakes her head in disappointment at the two of them, her mouth falling open in disbelief. "Only one of you need come."

Instantly at the words, the two best friend's expressions relax as they bring their fists up to hold out between themselves. Their bodies still face the two lovers, and Clarke's completely appalled expression is almost laughable when they start to bounce their fists.

"You can't be seri – " the blonde-haired teen lectures, getting cut off by her ever patient girlfriend.

"Let them do what they must," Lexa assures Clarke, watching the two teens faces expectantly.

"Shoot!" Jasper calls, and the two best friends fists stop bouncing to open on their weapons of choice. It's only then that the two of them look down at their hands, and Myles slump as Jasper cheers. "Rock crushes scissors!"

"Please tell me," Clarke scolds worriedly, watching Myles heave a sigh and Jasper walk around in a small circle with his arms held up high in celebration. "This isn't how you've been making decisions for Arkadia."

"It would be my honour," the redhead tells Lexa softly, ignoring the blonde's words, "to celebrate Ascension Day with you, Heda."

"As it should," the commander quips, raising her brown eyebrows slightly. "It is customary to bring the commander a gift."

"I know that's bullshit," Myles immediately calls out her lie, lifting a hand up to point at Lexa. "But I will bring you some candles."

The commander's expression brightens but Clarke makes a face, the blonde's lecturing blue eyes soften into a plea and her shoulders drop.

"Please, no more candles."