Day 157 – Feb. 16
Stepping down the last step at the end of a flight of stairs, Myles turns to enter the hallway instead of going down any more floors. It's eerily silent, even for this early in the morning. If not for the candles on tables, resting on shards of metal jutting out from the wall and sitting in the place of lightbulbs in rusty, decaying chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the hallways would be pitch black. The first soft rays of the morning sun peek through the windows, leaving most of the inside of the tower blind. Pinkish and light golden hues rain in from holes in the walls, soft sunlight spilling out from under the gaps of doors that accommodate those already awake.
Myles continues down the hallway until she reaches one of the old Tondc ambassador's rooms, knowing which one of the few surviving village-folk lives inside. She wasn't there for Emerson's sentencing yesterday, but there's not a chance that she would miss today, even if the village she was chieftain of no longer exists. Ascension Day is one of the few major celebrations grounders have, and it's the only one completely founded in their religious ideology. Son-Wamplei, 'sun-death', and Son-Gyonplei, 'sun-ascension', are widely celebrated holidays in grounder culture. Though there are heavy ties to grounder theology, people have celebrated the winter and summer solstices for thousands and thousands of years.
Grounders throw a feast when Son-Wamplei begins on the shortest day of the year, to spend the longest night enjoying their year's prosperous and hard labour. Celebrating the 'end of the seeding season' with gift giving, villages also light symbolic fires with their most well-fed animal or best yielded crop of the year tossed in there in honour of the spirits of the previous commander's. Various plants and poisons give the flames an unnatural hue, and the specific colours used vary from clan to clan. Women and men use this time to dress their nicest before the cold weather worsens, citing it as their last opportunity of the year to wear their best dresses and clothes.
Son-Gyonplei is a much louder celebration than the winter solstice. The summer solstice parties are held to glorify a new beginning, and thus marking a new year after the cold and dead winter. Hymns and songs prevail all the way through the longest day of the year, single women wear flower crowns in the hopes of starting the new year with love. Single men have the largest leaf they can find tied around their wrists for the same reason. Those that find someone they take an interest in exchange their hopeful, accessorised offerings, and they are a main decoration if they ever have a marriage ceremony. Bonfires are held after celebratory feasts where people tie one strip of fabric from their winter clothes to a stick to burn as a thank you to the spirits of the Commanders for keeping them warm and well-fed during the winter.
Ceremonies and beliefs differ slightly from clan to clan, but the underlying current of their belief system always stays the same. Jasper and Myles refer to the grounder ideology as 'Cela', a nickname of the North American shrub known informally as 'bittersweet'. Grounders, however, simply refer to it as 'The Order', the name sometimes extending to accomodate the words 'flame' or 'spirit'. Their theology walks the line of harmless beliefs that mask a tragic way of living. Things like believing in an eternal soul and holding dear innocent symbolic rituals or traditions, while turning sour and barbaric in a split-second with their hard stance on things like capital punishment and training children to be warriors, only to throw them into wars to kill each other.
Out of all the differing superstitions and traditions the clans practice in, there's only one they all celebrate in complete unison, The exact same way; Ascension Day. Today is the day that rain nor shine can stop the war-chiefs and ambassadors from disgracing the Commander by not being in unanimous attendance. It might even be the first year in decades that a royal from Azgeda be in attendance, instead of merely sending in their representatives to spy on their Nightbloods.
It's why Myles knows she is here and can't avoid her. It's why she only stops at her door and no one else's. Why she knocks on it, despite the early time of day. A red eyebrow quirks up when no response comes from her short and firm knock on the door, but she waits another moment before trying anything more.
"Taim yu nou slak dou op," Myles warns the woman inside, "ai'a ban praya-de we en min op idowe." [AN: "If you don't open the door, I'll lift the lock and come in anyway."]
"Gon we," Indra's gruff voice replies, her tone hard. [AN: "Go away."]
With a raise of her eyebrows and a tip of her head, Myles feels the ends of her shoulder-length red hair brush against the skin of her shoulders where her long-sleeved grey shirt is too overstretched to cover her tank top straps. Pulling out one of her knives from her belt, the redhead pokes it through the crack in the door above the wooden door-handle and slides it up until it hits a rusted metal bar. Pushing up with the blunt top edge of her blade, the metal bar lifts and Myles starts gently pushing on the immovable wooden door handle so she doesn't accidentally lock herself back out of the room if the rod falls down.
Entering the room, the dark-skinned warrior refuses to look at her, only tilting her head in her direction.
"I said," Indra repeats as Myles shuts and locks the door, tucking her knife away. "'Go away'."
"I know," Myles tells her, her hazel eyes taking note of the rags the woman is dressed in. "And I said I was coming in anyway."
It's a far cry from the armour the warrior typically wears as a trophy, or the respectable outfit the chieftains wear on special occasions to represent their village. The ratty shirt is sleeveless, two or three sleeveless vests layered on top of one another for warmth, only thin, dark grey fraying fingerless gloves that extend to her elbow covering her arms. A stained and discoloured white patch of cloth covers the woman's right shoulder that was wounded ten days ago, the edges tucked under the layered shirts. Her pants are a baggy and loose material, thick for warmth, but not any nicer than the rest of the woman's clothes.
Myles takes a slow step past the small table in the corner of the room beside to door towards the bed the warrior sits on, Indra's eyes never meeting the teens. Clothes rest on a table across the room, but a jacket and a poncho with a large hood rests on the small table by the door. Weapons sit on the dining table in the middle of the room with chairs around it, all neatly placed with care. Coming to a stop next to the warrior at the head of the bed, the redhead lifts an arm halfheartedly to gesture at the woman's injured right shoulder.
"I hear you've been staying in Polis," Myles implores, trying to get the prideful warrior to speak.
"You should know better than to question what the Commander tells you," Indra states, her brown eyes hard as they stare at the wall the bed is against.
A red eyebrow quirks at the despondent tone, "didn't say I didn't believe her." Squinting her hazel eyes at the woman, Myles tips her head to the side and continues. "How's the arm?"
"Wounded," the warrior answers shortly, turning her head slightly towards the Arker but keeping her eyes on the wall.
"Have you been doing the exercises?" Myles enquires after a long beat of silence.
"They're not 'exercises'," the woman all but sneers, her voice spitting out the word like it offended her.
"Fine," the red-haired teen huffs, "have you been doing the stretches?" Indra doesn't respond, and Myles waits for another short moment. "Can you show me them?"
Indra rolls her eyes, her whole head singing with the exasperated movement, but she complies. Hazel eyes watch the woman's fist clench, the muscles and tendons of her forearm flexing under her skin. Lifting the arm slightly, Indra twists her wrist and stretches out the tendons that reach up to her shoulder halfheartedly. The motions aren't fluid, and it obviously causes the woman pain, but that's to be expected in the morning. Sleeping on her shoulder during the night irritates the healing muscles, yet the rough demonstration of the simple exercises to keep the muscles from breaking down from under-use shows how well her injuries are healing.
"That's good," Myles commends, nodding slightly, her tone lighter with relief. "You can start lifting things. Start very light and work up, use pain as a cue for what's too much." Indra doesn't respond, just lets her arm relax down onto the bed beside her. "You can go home, Indra. There's no reason the healers here – "
"I have no home," the dark-skinned warrior mutters darkly, "the mountain saw to that."
"You were overseeing Reva," the red-haired teen reminds her, starting to continue before Indra cuts her off.
"They wouldn't want me there," Indra counters surely.
Red eyebrows fly up in disbelief, "they wouldn't want Trikru's best warrior protecting their village?"
"I am not even a warrior," the woman denounces, her hard, self-loathing brown eyes finally locking on the redhead's hazel. It's fleeting, however, as her gaze breaks off to stare at the wall again. "Not anymore. If I had died on that field, I would have died a warrior."
"Oh, Indy," Myles jibes, tilting her head to the side over-dramatically.
"Do not call me that," Indra rumbles, her voice threateningly low.
"You don't like Indy?" Myles probes, trying to redirect the woman's anger away from her internal battle. Fiery dark brown eyes snap to mischievous hazel, her expression stoney with silent threats. Clicking her tongue to mask the victorious smile starting to spread across her face, the redhead adds. "Ai fig raun wocha Indi tag yu in sou toli mou beda." [AN: "I think chieftain Indy suits you much better."]
"Do not…" Indra seethes, standing from the bed in one fluidly furious movement. The warrior stands in front of Myles, stepping so close to her that their noses almost touch. A red eyebrow quirks, hazel eyes shining at the woman who squares her shoulders and attempts to tower over her even though they're the same height. "… call me that name."
"Oh, good," the red-haired teen beams, "you're up." Leaning over with a step awkwardly to grasp the jacket on the table beside the door, Myles straightens back up and holds the garment up to the warrior still standing close to her. "We're going to the markets."
"Ha," the dark-skinned woman quips seriously in a lifeless, unamused, monotone voice, not making a move to grab the jacket from the teen's hands. "I may be weak, but I am not stupid."
"No," Myles drawls out condescendingly, as if speaking to a child. The redhead applies a slight amount of pressure with the hand holding the jacket up to Indra's left shoulder to gently stop her turning to get back on the bed. "You're neither of those, which is exactly why we're going to the markets."
Deadly serious and stoic features don't shift once, "I should kill you for antagonising me."
"Actually, let's go with that," the redhead agrees, lowering the arm with the jacket completely and raising her eyebrows imploringly. "That saves me from having to get Lexa a candle."
For the first time since Myles entered the room, an expression other than self-pity and self-loathing crosses the warrior's face. Humour dances around in her dark brown eyes, an almost sarcastic glint brightening her features.
"What kind of fool," Indra prompts the Arker, a faint ghost of a tiny smile gliding across her lips, "brings the Commander a candle as a gift on Ascension Day?"
"This fool," Myles supplies obviously, lifting her arms up halfway to gesture to herself. "Why? You think two candles?"
"Taim yu don nou leyos," the warrior states, stepping away to walk purposefully over to the hood on the table and picking it up. "Yu na ste daun." [AN: "If you weren't funny, you'd be dead."]
Lifting her arms in exasperation, Myles replies as Indra drapes the fabric hood over her head and shoulders.
"Hakom ste hon Heda in flika bilaik leyos?" [AN: "Why is getting the commander candles funny?"]
Titus stands beside the throne his Commander sits at, his body turned away from the two Arker's standing behind the lit fire-pit bowl and facing the Nightbloods lining the wall opposite to them. Village chieftains, advisors and high-ranking representatives from across the twelve clans gather on the side of the room the two Arker's are on, quietly and respectfully overseeing the ceremony. Myles and Clarke are standing up straight on the platform Titus, the Nightbloods, Lexa and her two main guards are elevated on, both teens being careful to present themselves appropriately.
It's a demonstration of being held in incredibly high regard standing where they're standing. Having the privilege to be asked to commemorate the previous Commander's is one thing, but to be offered a place in the room that is at the same level as the current Commander, her most trusted guards, her Flamekeeper and all of the potential next Commanders is almost unheard of. The eyes of the guests in the room continuously flick to the two Arker's, curious and bitter looks varying in intensity from them all.
Indra, Titus and the Nightblood children never glance at them though. Instead, the children stare in awe at the Commander obediently, watching her brown eyes wait on the throne room doors for the last of her guests to arrive. Small hands protect the flames of the candles only they hold, and hazel eyes can't help looking back at the children and dreading the day they ever are forced to 'fulfil their destiny'.
Lexa has become a large part of Myles' life, the young woman having taken on the roles of a dear friend and trusted ally. The day she dies wouldn't only be a travesty for the relationships she's formed with the Arker's, but for those poor children obediently standing attentively to her left. If Lexa dies, one of those children will have to take on the responsibility of the twelve clans. They will have to spend the rest of their life fighting and holding a weight that is too heavy to ever graze their shoulders.
To stop herself from staring at the children Lexa has spent her time as Commander carefully and lovingly training with her whole heart, hazel eyes glue onto the fire-pit bowl behind them. The bowl in front of the two Arkers is lit, kindling and cloth burning away gracefully, but the bowl on the other side of the Commander isn't. Instead, small delicate flames dance on top of the candles Myles dragged Indra out of bed at the crack of dawn this morning to buy with her.
Finally, the last two representatives from the Plain Riders clan walk through the door, their steps springing with anxious trepidation of what being late could entail for them. Lexa merely lifts her chin up higher as the guards at the doors close the two doors behind them, and Myles' eyes catch a glance at Indra before she looks back at the Commander. The hood the warrior wears to hide in the shadows is pulled up over her head, the woman's never moving gaze on Lexa patiently.
"Taim don kom op gon stot au," Lexa announces, her voice strong but kind. Her attention turns to the Nightbloods to her left, addressing them specifically and hardening her voice ever so slightly. "We gather here on this Ascension Day to honour the Commanders that came before me, those who live on within me," Lexa's eyes stop on Aden's, her most promising student, for a beat, "as I would live on within one of you." [AN: "It's time to begin."]
Men shout from outside of the throne room, arguing in Trigedasleng, and everyone's eyes turn to the door. It cuts the sentiment the Commander gives short, her expression hardening with displeasure. Hazel eyes lock on Clarke's quickly, both of their eyebrows twitching together in confused shock. Not a second later, the two doors burst open, causing the guards on either side of them to draw their weapons preemptively.
"Fleimkepa don swega klin bilaik osir na ge sen in!" A man's gruff and angry voice declares, forcing his way through the guards that were waiting outside of the throne room. [AN: "The Flamekeeper promised us we would be heard!"]
He's not alone, several other large and armed men behind him following him in closely. The aggression from other grounders on what they consider a holy day in their culture doesn't sit right in Myles' gut. Her boot takes a shocked step towards them, her hands itching for where her weapons braces would be if she were wearing them. A burning and heavy weight replaces the empty places on her skin where her weapons are usually strapped, regret pumping through her veins. Clarke's hand quickly grasps the redhead's elbow, stopping her from taking another step.
"Titus," Lexa's low and collected tone bubbles out quickly with her well-controlled fury, "what is this?"
The Flamekeeper bends down close to the Commander's ear, whispering something that neither Arker can hear. Myles tries to take another step toward the slowly approaches intruders, but Clarke tightens her grip. All but one raise their hands, coming to fall to their knees on the carpet. With the rest of the group on their knees, the one in the back who remains standing pushes forward with a grunting hostage both Arkers recognise instantly.
Cold fear spikes through Myles' heart as she pulls her arm from Clarke's shock-slackened hold, hazel eyes widening and becoming infuriated as they watch Octavia get pushed forward. The man holds her long dark brown hair to the back of her throat roughly, blood and dirt covering the youngest Blake sibling's tan skin.
"Kom yu meika of em!" Myles demands, speedily stepping down the few steps below the Commander's throne. [AN: "Get your hands off of her!"]
Before her boots even step off the last step, one of the men who had fallen to their knees stands, swinging a machete out towards Myles to halt her. He stops the weapon from swinging at her, and it's immediately clear that he's not doing it to hurt her, but scare her enough to make her stop. Realising she has a second to her advantage, the red-haired teen grips the blunt top edge of the blade and yanks it to yourself as whispers and murmurs of shock echo in the room.
Quickly readjusting her hold on the blade end, Myles shoves the handle into the man's face and flicks her wrist to twist the weapon when she lets go off the blade end. The man who held the weapon to her falls back to the floor, and she catches the machete with her hand now gripping the handle end, holding the blade to the man holding Octavia by the back of her throat.
"Em pleni!" Lexa's angry voice shouts, but Myles keeps the blade to the man's throat, her hazel eyes staring at his blue. [AN: "Enough!"]
"Wigod ai op," the long-haired man who shouted and barged in first pleas, "hashta min klin ona disha presh sintaim, Heda." The man stands, using the thick stick in his hand to help him up. "Ai laik Semet kom Trikru. Wocha kom Rendon, en ai kom op hashta raitnes." [AN: "Forgive me for intruding on this holy day, Commander. Chieftain of Rendon, and I come seeking justice."]
"Raitnes?" Myles scoffs, trying to shuffle her feet forward to reach Octavia's shoulder enough to wrench her out of the man holding her captive's hands. [AN: "Justice?"]
"Gouva yu klin," the Commander orders, her tone hard and authoritative as the man holding the back of Octavia's throat steps back with each inch Myles steps forward. "Chomouda yu don sis op Okteiva kom Skaikru gon honon?" [AN: "Explain yourself. Why do you hold Octavia of the sky people prisoner?"]
"Em laik honon kom wor, Heda," Semet informs them, his voice raising on 'wor' to emphasise the weight of the situation. Hazel eyes flick to the man at his words, only to find them already on the bloodied, bruised and burnt teen. Shocked echoes of the word chorus from the chieftains in the room. "Don ge lid hir na sin in kripon-de kom omon kru." [AN: "She is a prisoner of war, commander. Brought here to bear witness to the crimes of her people."]
"Kripon?" Myles asks, a lump of dread forming in her throat. "Chit kripon?" [AN: "Crimes? What crimes?"]
"What happened?" Clarke's voice finally travels down the steps as she moves to stand beside Myles.
"Skaikru attacked their village," Titus elaborates, and Myles' eyes blink quickly, her fingers twitching on the handle of the machete she still holds at the man holding Octavia. "Because their warriors were lost when your people massacred the army we had sent to protect you, their village was defenceless."
"Beja, Heda," Semet pleads earnestly, and hazel eyes flick to Clarke when she sees her blonde hair fly through the air from the corner of her eyes. "Ai beja yu daun. Goch osir klin." [AN: "Please, commander. I beg you. Avenge us."]
It's silent for a moment, and Myles can feel what's about to happen before it does. The man holding Octavia by the back of her head has never let his eyes stray from the redhead, and he opens his mouth with a dark smirk.
"Jus drein jus daun," he exclaims, setting off a chant of the phrase throughout the room. [AN: "Blood must have blood."]
Tilting her head to the side in frustrated exasperation, hard hazel eyes stay locked on his as she pulls her weapon back to herself and flicks her wrist. Catching the blade end, Myles swings the weapon to smash the handle against the side of the man's head and she yanks Octavia away from the group when his grip loosens and he stumbles back. The machete clatters on the ground as her hands quickly drop it to pull the gag from Octavia's mouth before reaching down to undo her hands.
"Thanks," Octavia mutters morosely, her spiteful tone betraying her grateful words.
Myles doesn't reply, her eyes locked on Clarke's wide and worried blue as the chant continues.
"Wamplei gon Skaikru!" Someone shouts in the room, and Myles' head whips around to search it out, her hands stuttering in their motions to untie Octavia's hands. [AN: "Death to the sky people!"]
"Yu na spek daun ona disha wogeda!" Titus rumbles out loudly, and Myles turns back around as the restraints on Octavia's hands fall loose to lock her eyes on Lexa. [AN: "You will respect in this chamber!"]
Lexa's brown eyes are simmering in anger, soft features ever collected. Her eyes aren't on any of the people in the room, but the floor in front of her. As if feeling Myles' eyes on her, infuriated brown eyes flick up to meet her hazel.
Lexa's quick strides speed ahead of the Clarke, Myles, Titus and her guard's, not slowing until after she shoves open her bedroom doors. Her fast pace dies down almost halfway into the room, her feet reaching there before anyone behind her reaches the threshold of her room.
"How dare you bring this to me on Ascension Day!" Lexa roars, still walking forward with restless energy.
"I did not bring this here, Heda," Titus corrects her, causing Myles to snort obnoxiously as the guards shut the doors after they pass through them, leaving them in peace. "You did."
"Jok yu," Myles exclaims, stopping suddenly and scrunching up her face in disgust at the tall, bald man's back. [AN: "Fuck you."]
The Commander also stops, spinning around quickly to stare at her Flamekeeper in shocked rage. Her eyes flick to Myles' for a second before tilting her chin up. Myles wonders for a moment if this is because Clarke is here, and the Commander is smitten with her. Getting spoken to this way in front of the person she's fallen for is an extra hard slap in the face, especially coming from a man who's supposed to be a confidant to the leader of the twelve clans.
"Against my advice," Titus continues, his tone hard and loud with the words he angrily spits out wetly, and Myles steps forward to stand beside Clarke between him and Lexa. Crossing her arms and raising a red eyebrow at the bald man. "You made Skaikru the thirteenth clan. They rejected this, murdering hundreds of your people." It's still a sore subject, the pang of friendly faces Jasper and Myles will never see on a supply drop off ever again emphasised by the words 'your people'. "And yet, on the very field where they died, you decided to forgive the killers. But this provocation is proof. Blood must not have blood has failed. All that can stop this now is war."
It's silent for a moment after Titus finishes ranting, the man breathing harshly. Clarke and Myles are still staring at him, the latter shaking her head with a bitter look twisting up her delicate features. Finally, Lexa looks up from the ground, her sights set on the two Arker's.
"Clarke?" Lexa prods gently, her tone deathly serious but soft. "Myles?"
Titus scoffs, arguing instantly, "their opinion in this matter is not exactly unbiased."
"He's right," Myles replies quickly, a sarcastic smile touching her sour expression. Looking at Lexa with a serious and honest face, the red-haired teen continues when the young woman's brown eyes show no signs of stopping her. "You know we'd do anything to protect our people, but that's not just the people outside of Arkadia walls." Lexa lifts her chin up, her eyes locked on the redhead, and Myles' face twitches as she bites the inside of her cheek to control her emotions. "The people who died on that field weren't just yours, they were ours. Rendon, too."
"Lexa," Clarke appeals, stepping closer to the Commander with her voice soft and pleading. "We know them. Not everyone agrees with Chancellor Pike. Kane doesn't. Octavia doesn't."
"Your people did not vote for Kane," Titus cuts her off spitefully, his tone emphasising 'your'.
"Some of them did!" Clarke counters, matching his aggression as she turns to him.
"We have a plan," Myles reminds the Commander, her hazel eyes remaining steady on the young woman's. "If we need more time, set up the buffer zone."
"And you believe your people will take him out themselves," Lexa seeks confirmation, her strong gaze not wavering as her voice becomes quiet.
Brown eyes flick to Clarke when Myles shows no signs of backing down, and the blonde nods confidently. Lexa's eyes stay stuck on Clarke's, the silence itching away at Titus.
"If they don't," the bald man insists, his voice shaky with rage. "If instead they use this time to plan their next attack. We must act now, Heda!" The Commander's eyes leave Clarke's, looking off to nowhere behind the blonde as Titus continues, stepping up towards the young woman. "Make an example of the thirteenth clan. Show the other twelve what happened when they defy you. You got them back when you killed the Ice Queen, but the Coalition is still fragile. If you don't act now – "
Lexa simply raises a hand in the air, and Titus falls silent. The young woman doesn't meet their eyes, and Clarke and Myles look at each other as anxiety crackles through their veins.
The endless chattering and murmurs in the room don't cease immediately when Lexa raises her hand like she did with Titus, but they quiet down gradually until they're silent. Lexa keeps her hand held up until the room is completely silent, hard brown eyes looking over the room in aggravated frustration. Myles leans all of her weight on one leg, letting the other twitch and bounce with anxiety. Octavia's dark and fiery deep brown eyes flick up from the ground she shares with everyone else in the room to the Arker's standing beside Lexa before her gaze settles on the Commander.
A burn mark on her forehead is infected, melted skin slimy and yellow with puss. The sheen of it glistens in the sunlight from the window behind the throne when she turns her gaze up to the Commander directly in front of her.
"Today," the Commander's strong voice announces evenly, her eyes finding Clarke's, "I call upon the armies of the twelve clans to march on Arkadia." Octavia bristles at the words, her infuriated deep brown eyes looking at her two friends in utter disbelief. Murmurs in Trigedasleng fill the room, and Lexa allows them to chatter for a moment before continuing. "Not to attack, but to contain."
Titus looks shocked, swinging his head to stare at the Commander as if he didn't believe she'd actually do it. Octavia's expression softens as the room falls silent, and hazel eyes finally meet her deep brown. The Blake sibling lifts her head up, a glaze of respect for them sweetening her eyes.
"We will blockade the thirteenth clan," the Commander reiterates, not flinching from her spot before her throne as chieftains step forward to her in anger. Seeing people surge forward, staring up at Lexa in betrayed shock makes the red-haired teen tear her eyes away, looking at her and Clarke's boots while the blonde keeps her fretful eyes on the exasperated crowd. "We will keep them from the lands they wish to possess. We will give them time to take out their leaders from within."
Something makes Clarke stiffen, and Myles glances up at her to follow her blue gaze to Octavia. The Blake sibling's face relays that she can't seem to decide if she still wants to respect the two of them. It's a condescending look, one that brings the conversation Myles had with her in Corco over a week ago back to mind. She thinks they're abandoning Arkadia, and everyone inside of it. Thinks they're pawning off the work, the responsibility, the fight to themselves instead of helping them.
"Once they rise up against them," Lexa finishes, and Myles looks to her to avoid the Blake sibling's accusing eyes. "Then we will welcome them back as one of us."
Disgruntled words are tossed around the crowd once again, but Myles keeps her eyes on the Commander's. While the Arker's don't believe the grounders religious beliefs, Myles understands that to them, she's powerful. Wanheda holds a power to them, and her standing in solidarity speaks volumes. One glance from Lexa has a silently fuming Titus addressing the room in an emotionless voice.
"You heard the Commander," the Flamekeeper states dully, "send riders. Tell your armies to set up a buffer zone around Arkadia. Five miles should be enough to keep them away from our villages. What are their orders, Heda?"
Lexa turns her head, and Clarke turns to meet her gaze. Brown eyes don't look into hazel, her eyes only locking on blue. The Commander knows Myles understands why she has to do what she's about to, and she knows Clarke won't like it. Slowly, Lexa turns her eyes back to the eagerly waiting crowd.
"Any Skaikru caught across the line will be subject to a kill order," the Commander provides in one steady breath.
Clarke goes rigid, one of her legs taking a shocked step forward. Myles doesn't blink, doesn't flinch, not even as Octavia whips her gaze back to them with a look of searing betrayal. Finally, when Clarke doesn't find whatever her silently pleading blue eyes were searching for from the Commander, her shoulders slump. A pale hand grips the redhead's upper arm for support, and Myles instantly lifts her other arm to wrap her fingers around the unsteady blonde's hand in comfort.
"Heda," Semet's grovelling voice implores, stepping towards the throne's stairs with stuttering and limping steps. "I do not understand. How is this vengeance?"
"It is not vengeance, my brother," Lexa discloses softly. "It is justice."
"Skaikru killed my sons," Semet raises his voice, the empty pit of having nothing left to lose in the man's eyes makes Myles take a step forward, only to stop from the shaky hand still on her arm. "And my brother and my wife! If the spirit of the Commander will not protect us, then what will?!"
"You mind yourself, Semet," Titus warns calmly, the man's erratic behaviour unsettling him as well.
Huffing, Semet turns to the crowd behind him, screaming out his next words.
"Wamplei gon Heda!" Semet roars, yanking a dagger from a pocket on his pants, spinning around charging up the few stairs separating him and Lexa. [AN: "Death to the Commander!"]
Myles wrenches her arm away from Clarke, striding forward in a flurry of panic, but Titus beats her to the assailant. Lexa takes a few steps back as Titus intercepts the attack by grabbing Semet's dagger wielding hand and shoving it back with a twist. Taking the blade from the grief-stricken man, Titus slashes him across his chest with brutal force. In a desperate attempt to defend himself from another vicious and deep swipe of his own dagger, Semet lifts a hand and tries to push the bald man away. Titus grips Semet's shoulder, stabbing the dagger upwards and into the man's chest and avoiding his defensive hands.
Everything goes still, and Myles' footsteps stop, her boots planting into the ground in shock. It only then she registers the loud mutterings coming from the shocked people in the room with them, but hazel eyes can only stare at Semet as Titus shoves him back from his shoulder. The rapidly dying man falls backwards to the floor, the people from his village who stormed the room with him falling to their knees beside his body, weeping over his last spluttering breaths.
The Flamekeeper calmly turns, stepping back up a step to be on the same level as Myles and Lexa.
"Blood must have blood," Titus whispers to Lexa, and Myles tears her eyes away from the dead man on the ground in front of them to stare in horror at the Flamekeeper.
Guards march in front of them, their stoic and emotionless movements no match from the icy chill of the anger the Blake sister expels from her pores. She's furious, her silence on the short journey screaming louder than words ever could and Myles takes a breath to prepare herself. Turning the bend, a sickly feeling of dread and relief floods her senses at the sight of the Skaikru ambassador's room under the throne room. The two guards escorting them there push open the doors, their eyes glancing around the room quickly as Myles and Octavia walk inside behind them.
Content there's no danger in the room waiting for them, the guards walk out after Octavia's fuming strides enter. Myles doesn't stop walking until she's standing in front of the bed, but Octavia does. She stops just inside the room, and the redhead can feel the judgement radiating off of her.
"No wonder you two wanted to stay," Octavia grumbles once the guards shut the doors, leaving them to have some privacy.
"Surrounded by problems that need fixing," Myles mutters, "just where I want to be." Octavia huffs out a scoff, and Myles looks up from the hand she was running over the furry blanket on her bed to look at Octavia's back. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," the dark brown-haired teen replies unconvincingly, looking around the room with condescending eyes.
Rolling her eyes, Myles asks, "why didn't you radio?"
"I had it under control," Octavia answers hotly, her deep brown eyes snapping to the redhead's with simmering rage. A red eyebrow lifts, breaking off from their locked stare to scan the injuries that she can see. Frustrated, the Blake sister sits down on the table to the left of the bed, and Myles copies her by sitting on the bed. "Look, I'm fine. I saw Indra in the crowd. Why wasn't she with Lexa?"
"Uh, Indra's having trouble…" Myles drawls out haltingly, trying to respectfully describe the blow to her pride that the warrior hasn't been able to recover from. "Healing," she eventually decides on, deep brown eyes flicker with confusion and the redhead hastily adds. "That's - that's not something we can fix right now, O."
"Okay," Octavia accepts, standing from sitting on the table to walk up to Myles with a lost expression. "So what do we do?"
Once again, someone is looking to Myles like she, and she alone, holds all the answers, like she is the only one who should hold the weight of it all. Something that the last three months has given her is the opportunity to not have to hold it all alone. It's shown her that she can confide in others, get other ideas and share the burden.
But Jasper isn't here. Marcus isn't here. Finn isn't here. Clarke and Lexa are in the Commander's room.
"I'll go talk to Lexa and Clarke," the redhead reasons, standing up from the edge of the bed.
"You just did that," Octavia snaps angrily, "and you came out with a kill order on all of us. That's the second time that she left us all to die."
"How else are we gonna enforce it?" Myles points out calmly, shrugging one shoulder lazily. "The clans want a war, O. Lexa is trying to keep them from wiping us all out."
Octavia stares into Myles' hazel eyes for a moment before scoffing a short, humourless laugh.
"I wouldn't be surprised if Clarke was still defending her," the dark brown-haired teen divulges, turning away. "But you're the Ghost. You don't need to rely on her to help us."
"I – " the red-haired teen starts, cutting herself off abruptly to stop herself from snapping in frustration. Taking a breath to collect her thoughts, Myles looks back up to Octavia's waiting gaze. "I'm gonna go talk to her, see what I can do." Quickly striding past the Blake sibling to head for the door, the redhead tosses over her shoulder at the pissed off teen. "Just – just wait here, okay?"
Myles barely rounds the bend to reach the staircase before she hears the Skaikru ambassador's room door open again. Sighing to herself, Myles doesn't look back, knowing there's only one other person in the capital that Octavia would trust for guidance.
Taking the stairs two at a time, the redhead finds herself back on the highest floor once again, and her movements don't falter or slow as she strides down the hallway. A familiar guard is standing outside the Commander's bedroom, and when the other prepares to tell Myles to go away, he pushes open the door for her. Smiling and muttering a quick thanks to the guard who recognised her and knows to let her in, Myles walks into the large and luxurious bedroom.
Clarke looks up from the parchment paper she sketches with charcoal on from her spot lying across the large bed. Lexa doesn't move an inch, though, not even as Clarke sits up on the bed. Instead, the young woman remains sitting up straight with her legs crossed on the rug on the ground at the foot of the bed. The curve of the end of her bed frame means her lower back isn't against anything, but her shoulders barely brush against the wood as she keeps her spine straight and shoulders back.
The Commander's eyes are closed, her breaths slow and calm, her entire demeanour a stark contrast to Clarke's restless fidgeting. Myles' steps don't slow, walking directly towards the Commander.
"How's Octavia?" Clarke enquires, her voice strangely strained from the conflicting position she finds herself in.
"Fine," Myles utters, unconvincingly, only coming to a stop beside Lexa to sit down with her legs crossed beside the young woman.
"She's angry about the kill order," the Commander states, already knowing the dispute that just happened.
"Yep," the red-haired teen chirps, closing her eyes and mimicking the young woman to her lefts posture.
"So am I," Clarke declares, crawling over the bed on her knees to look down at them from the foot of the bed.
Whatever Myles is supposed to be feeling, she isn't. She isn't magically as calm and collected as Lexa is, and it makes her open her eyes and look at the young woman. Lexa answers Clarke, not opening her eyes, and Myles closes hers again when she's sure she's doing exactly what the Commander is.
"How else would you have me enforce a blockade?" Lexa inquires, getting only a sigh from Clarke in response.
"That's what I said to O," Myles informs them, and Clarke moves on the bed above them. "Is this actually supposed to be doing something, or is it all just bullshit?"
"You need to open your mind to it," the Commander tells her calmly, and the redhead snorts obnoxiously.
"That sounds like something people say," the red-haired teen counters, "when they want you to believe bullshit."
Lexa breathes a light chuckle out through her nose, and Myles feels Clarke peer her head over the bed frame again.
"Yeah," the blonde agrees, "someone tried to kill you today. How are you this calm?"
"Practice," Lexa supplies, her breathing never straying from its calm and steady pattern.
Myles lasts ten more seconds before huffing out dramatically and slouching forward.
"This isn't working," Myles declares, resting her elbows on her knees and resting her cheek in one of her palms. A hint of a smile dances across Lexa's face, and the redhead taps the tips of one of her boots on the ground anxiously. "So, when are we leaving?"
The Commander opens her eyes, her straight posture and calm breathing never faltering as she locks her eyes on the redhead beside her.
"We're not," Clarke tells her, and Myles twists her head to look up at her blonde-haired friend at the end of the bed.
"We're not?" Myles repeats, red eyebrows drawing together in confusion as her hazel eyes switch back to Lexa. "How are we gonna enforce the blockade from here?"
"Riders will make sure Arkadia gets the terms and conditions of the buffer zone," the blonde explains, and hazel eyes flick off to stare at the wall in thought.
"There are things that need correcting for the clans," Lexa informs the redhead, and hazel eyes lock on hers again. "We may be drawing a line, but who's to say you can't choose to stay on this side of it?"
As if answering the Commander's question, one of the guards outside of the door speaks very loudly, his voice echoing into Lexa's bedroom.
"Ai don tel yu op," the guard argues, and Myles rolls her eyes dramatically at the voice trying to talk over him. "Bilaik em nou na ge get daun." [AN: "I told you, she was not to be disturbed."]
"Well," the redhead sighs, sitting up straight, "I know someone who might."
Another small smile graces the Commander's face and Clarke rolls her eyes, raising a blonde eyebrow at Myles with an amused expression taking over her features. Lexa faces forward again, closing her eyes but Myles watches the doors as they open and Titus stalks in. His footsteps falter at the sight of the two Arkers, a pinched look cloaking his serious expression. Titus comes to a stop a metre away from the rug Lexa meditates on.
"Wanheda," Titus addresses, and a red eyebrow twitches in acknowledgment. "Blockade goes into effect at dawn. I've made arrangements for you to take one of our fastest horses."
"Thank you," the redhead tells him, neglecting to mention that should she leave, Rover 5 is stashed an hour walk from the capitals edge.
"Actually," the Commander corrects, opening her eyes and looking at her Flamekeeper. "I've asked Myles to stay in Polis with Clarke and I as my guest."
A disdainful look crosses his face at the mention of them both staying in Polis, and Myles guesses that decision was also against his advisement.
"Clarke, Myles," the bald man implores dully, "will you excuse us?"
The red-haired teen nods awkwardly, standing up from the floor and walking over to the door. Clarke takes a moment before following her out, and when Myles spares a glance over her shoulder, she can only guess it's because Lexa looks pissed. Waiting at the door for the long blonde-haired teen, Lexa and Titus only stare at each other heatedly, the tension in the room building quickly.
"You go," Clarke says after the doors shut and Myles turns, prompting the red-haired teen to look back at her in confusion. "I'll just wait here."
Nodding slowly, "yeah, okay."
Sighing heavily, Myles goes down the stairs slowly, buying herself time before she has to face Octavia and tell her it's better that she stays in Polis. When she gets to her room, however, her anxiety turns out to be in vain. Octavia isn't back yet.
Myles knows she can't do it. She also knows staying is for the best. One twisted part of her argues with another, both screeching that they know what the right thing to do is. Lexa is wise beyond her years, something their religion supposedly has an answer to, although the redhead just believes it's experience, and not the spirits of those before her. If she says Myles can do more here, help more here than that must be what's right.
Right?
Every part of what made her the Ghost begs her to go to Arkadia. To take that rider and get one of their rovers and stop anyone else from needlessly dying. What if Pike orders the guard to fire all their automatic machine guns at the blockade? What if she can save more innocent grounders who are only trying to help them from digging themselves into a deeper pit by just going? What if the right thing to do is listen to what made her the Ghost?
But… if she listened to that part, to what made her the Ghost, she'd be listening to Wanheda. She'd be listening to the part of her that made her pull the lever to irradiate Mount Weather. How can something that compelled her to do that, be right?
Her internal quarrelling is brought to an end when the door to her bedroom opens. It's been a few hours since Myles last saw Octavia and turning from absently staring over Polis to see the Blake sister entering her room isn't surprising. What is, though, is the victorious look on her face that fades the second she catches sight of the redhead's conflicted hazel eyes. Shutting the door with a huff, Octavia walks up to the red-haired Arker with slow steps, silently pleading for an answer Myles isn't sure she can give.
"She told you," Octavia guesses, her tone bitter, "you could stay, didn't she? Is Clarke staying, too?" Myles doesn't answer, only diverting her gaze to the floor before swinging it back to the large window overlooking Polis. Octavia finally reaches her, her steps slowing to a stop. "What did you say?"
"I didn't say anything," Myles tells her, raising her red eyebrows in a worried frown to convey her honesty.
"Myles," the Blake sister protests, looking at the redhead like she's a stranger. "We both know that Pike won't obey the blockade. We need to stop him before more of our people get killed, and only you can do that."
Her last few words make the red-haired teen look away, hating the weight that follows her because one day she helped people as a distraction. Shaking her head self-pityingly, Myles turns back to Octavia.
"I can do more for them by being here," she tells the Blake sibling, already expecting the backlash that'll come.
"You can't, Myles," Octavia exclaims, leaning forward condescendingly.
"It's what I've been doing for three months," Myles reminds her, not breaking eye contact.
"And look where we are now," the dark brown-haired teen snarks, her eyebrows twisting in concern. "We don't have time for this." Shaking her head, Myles looks away again and Octavia grips her hand softly. It's so unlike the way Octavia's been treating her since the missile in Tondc that it catches Myles off-guard, and her hazel eyes go down to their hands before meeting the teen's eyes. "Look, we need you. We need the Ghost."
The redhead blinks quickly, trying to stop the onslaught of negative emotions that wash over her with painful reminders of what happens whenever she's in charge. The silence makes the pleading look in Octavia's eyes go cold, her tone becoming hard.
"The blockade goes into effect at dawn," Octavia states, the atmosphere turning thick and sour again. "You have an hour to say your goodbyes to Clarke and whoever else." Hazel eyes flick down, and the Blake sister drops her hand to turn around and stalk back to the door. She stops halfway there, but Myles is too busy turning the words over in her head and fighting with herself and her demons to realise until Octavia speaks. "If you're not there," Myles looks up, looking at Octavia's back. The Blake sibling turns around, meeting the redhead's eyes. "You're not the person I thought you were."
With those last parting words, Octavia walks out the door, shutting it behind herself. Taking a shaky breath in, Myles brings the long grey sleeve that sits over the back of her wrist up to her nose. Breathing erratically, the redhead desperately tries to stop the feelings of hopelessness and worthlessness that threaten to cripple her under the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Rounding the corner, Myles' steps falter when she sees there're no guards outside of the Commander's bedroom. Flicking her head to shift her shoulder length red hair, Myles licks her lips and takes another steadying breath before finishing the walk up to Lexa's room. Coming to a stop, Myles raises her hand to knock when the sound of distant laughter and chatter float up the staircase. Turning to crane her head and check if it's the Commander, or her guards, the redhead huffs a defeated breath when it's not.
Deciding just to knock on the bedroom door, and if Clarke or Lexa aren't in there, to just leave with only telling the guards, Myles knocks firmly on the door.
"Are you in there," the red-haired teen calls over-dramatically, not expecting a reply, "oh, almighty Heda kom pauna?" [AN: "Commander of Gorillas."]
"Yes, Myles," Lexa confirms, her voice airy in a way that the redhead has never heard before.
Taking this as approval to come in, Myles pushes open one door and strides inside. It's not even a second after her hand leaves the door and her eyes sweep the room for the Commander that Myles' steps halt. The clothes Clarke and Lexa were wearing today are bunched up haphazardly on the floor around the large bed both girls lie in. Clarke carefully holds the blankets up to her bare shoulders, a faint blush tinting her cheeks as Lexa props herself up on her elbows with the blankets completely covering all but her bare arms and shoulders.
"I didn't mean to intrude," Myles amends, taking half a step back awkwardly.
"It's alright," Lexa forgives, an easy smile on her face that brightens blindingly when Clarke giggles and looks to her, their eyes meeting. Putting on the most professional front she can muster, the Commander turns her eyes back to the redhead. "When are you leaving?"
"Leaving?" Clarke echoes, her bright and relaxed expression falling slack with worried confusion. "What?"
"Now," the red-haired teen answers, turning slightly to lift a hand in the general direction of the Skaikru ambassador's room. "I just need to grab all my weapons."
"No, Aggie," the blonde argues, trying to sit up while keeping the blanket covering herself. A pang of remorse settles in the redhead's heart, knowing how carefree and happy the two were a moment ago. "The guard will recognise you and you will be the first thing they take aim at. Just think about it for a minute."
"I have," Myles informs her, shifting her eyes between them. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Lexa brushes off, her gaze kind and respecting.
"Why are you letting her do this?" Clarke's worried voice demands of the young woman in bed with her. "This is ridiculous."
"She has to go back to your people," the Commander answers, her eyes only leaving the redhead's for a moment to look adoringly at Clarke. Lexa addresses Myles directly when she speaks next. "That's why I always listened to you. It's why you're you."
Tilting her head to the side and quirking a red eyebrow sarcastically, "it's why I'm tired."
"Aggie," the blonde-haired teen pleads for her to listen as Lexa huffs through a smile. "They'll kill you."
"They'll have to catch me for that," Myles waves off the concern, trying to lighten the tense worry that thickens the air.
"May we meet again," Lexa announces, and the second she says it, Clarke starts frantically trying to pick up her clothes over the edge of the bed while keeping herself covered.
"May we meet again," Myles echoes, taking it as a dismissal and turning around.
"No, Aggie," Clarke calls out to her, but Myles doesn't turn around, only opening the bedroom door and walking through it. "Just wait."
"Let her go," the Commander lovingly instructs her girlfriend, and the redhead can hear the reply even after she turns away from the shut door.
"Let her go?" Clarke exclaims, causing Myles to breathe in deeply and release the breath slowly as she walks down the hallway to the staircase. "She's going to get herself killed!"
Hastening her pace to get to her room and leave before Clarke can talk Lexa into stopping her, Myles rounds the bend and heads straight for the staircase. Stepping down the stairs quickly, her shoulder length red hair bounces against the exposed skin of her shoulders where her grey long-sleeved shirt's neck is over-stretched. Getting off on the floor underneath the Commander's, Myles strides over to the door to her room.
The events of the last few weeks replay through her mind in a long strain of flashing thoughts. If push comes to absolute shove, she'll execute Pike, and Arkadia can handle the rest internally. What's a little more blood, right? After all, she's Wanheda: the one who commands death.
Pushing open her door, the red-haired teen is so wrapped up in her thoughts that it isn't until she's more than a metre inside the bedroom with the door shut behind herself that she sees him. Jonathan Murphy, unconscious, beaten, bloody, gagged, and chained to one of the chairs around the dining table in the room. The second her eyes catch sight of him, her stomach bottoms out, dread and fear propelling her worried boots forward hastily.
Crashing to her knees in front of him, her shaky and urgent hands yank at his chains for a short second before she realises its hopeless. Lifting her pale hands to feel for his pulse, her hazel eyes can see him breathing as they take in his injuries.
"Johnny," Myles' fast and panicked voice calls breathily, cupping his feverish face with her hands. "Johnny."
"He's alive," Titus states, stepping forward from the place along the wall he was blending in with.
"What did you do to my friend?" Myles sneers, her enraged hazel eyes staring at the bald man slowly walking towards them.
"Your friend," the Flamekeeper emphasises, and Murphy groans, scrunching his face up as the redhead's slender fingers stroke the clammy, battered skin of his face and neck to comfort him. Ducking her head down to try to see his eyes when the teen twists his body to avoid the sunlight in the room, the redhead doesn't move her hands from cupping the teen's face. "Was caught stealing from people on their way to the Polis market."
"Hey, hey," the red-haired teens soothes, Murphy's eyes finally opening to look at Myles as he becomes more aware. "You're okay."
Dark blue eyes lock on the redhead, and he instantly starts tugging on his restraints. After using her gentle hold on his face to steady his drooping head for a moment, Myles reaches around for the knot in the cloth gag at the back on Murphy's head.
"Please don't do that," Titus warns, brandishing a pistol and hearing his voice sets Murphy off.
Murphy wrenches hard at his restraints, groaning and shouting muffled words Myles can't make out through the gag in his mouth. His loud and forceful struggling makes the redhead worried for his safety, and her hands settle on Murphy's shoulders so they don't accidentally smack into his head when he thrashes around.
"It's okay," Myles shushes the teen, but all she gets in response is crazed, dizzy head shaking and muffled, gibberish pleas. Writing it off as being harmed by this man and being fearful of his motives, the redhead turns her attention away from the fighting teen to raise her hands in a show of surrender. Slowly rising to her feet, hard hazel eyes try to gauge the situation. "Titus, what's this about?"
"I'm sorry it had to come to this, Myles," the Flamekeeper offers darkly, his words and menacing approach making Murphy screech through the gag. "Truly, I am."
"Titus, put the gun down," Myles pleas, slowly stepping away from Murphy to figure out who's the intended victim of his gun. "Octavia and I are leaving right now, just let me take my friend, and we'll go. I'll repay whatever he stole."
"Wish I could," Titus laments, lifting his arm high to point the gun at Myles. "Lexa will never execute her duty while you live."
"Think, Titus," the redhead says seriously, stepping away from Murphy with larger steps so he can't accidentally get shot if this untrained man misses. The panic from before is mostly gone, knowing he wants to shoot her and not Murphy. It lingers, however, as she isn't sure yet what he will do to Murphy after she's dead. "They'll know it was you."
"They'll think it was him," the bald man insists, breathing harshly and flicking his eyes to the teen violently fighting his noisy chains. "Skaikru weapon in the hands of a Skaikru thief. Clarke will be devastated, and Lexa might even be angry enough to declare war!"
Titus pulls the trigger, and Myles ducks down, crouch walking quickly to get farther away from the man as he shoots again. Both shots miss, and the redhead grabs a chair, swinging it at him as she dives toward the table with her weapons on the other side of the door. The door opens as Myles is about to pass it and Titus shoots twice more from the floor he fell on when ducking the thrown chair, making Myles stops in her tracks.
It's as if the world moves in slow motion, everything feeling miles away and muffled, distorted with shock.
"Titus?!" Lexa roars, turning around and shouting down the hallway. "Guards!"
"Murphy," Clarke breathes, surging towards the screaming teen fighting roughly against his bloodied restraints.
Thundering steps march distantly down the hall, and hazel eyes turn haltingly to Murphy. The shaggy brown-haired teen doesn't stop yanking or shouting, his movements not allowing Clarke to get a look at him and dark blue eyes stuck on Myles. He's not staring at her eyes, but her stomach. Myles doesn't look down until Clarke looks over at her and pales.
Seeing Clarke stare at her stomach shatters the illusion. Before her hazel eyes have time to look down herself, the searing burn and heavy pull of thick blood weighing down her shirt floods to her senses. Deep red blood pools rapidly, soaking through her shirt as Titus' pleas for forgiveness fall on deaf ears.
"Aggie," Clarke breathes over the ringing in the redhead's ears, abandoning Murphy's side as the numb sense of nothing is replaced with the overwhelming feeling of everything and it knocks Myles' knees out.
She doesn't feel herself go crashing to the floor, but the never-ending feeling of falling starts only when one of the Commander's guards catches her. Clarke and Lexa are crowding over her swimming vision before she registers herself blinking, the buzz of movement in the room suddenly sounding deathly silent. Hands press down hard on her stomach, making every piercing, sharp gasping breath even more excruciating.
"Help me get her to the bed," Clarke demands Lexa and a guard, stopping him from following the others escorting Titus out.
"Fight, Myles!" Lexa orders as strong hands lift her, carrying her to the bed quickly.
"I need something to stop the bleeding," Clarke instructs over the red-haired teens wet and rapid gasps. The Commander leaves her side, rushing to get her girlfriend what she needs. "You'll be okay. Just lie still, okay?"
"Unchain him!" Lexa commands the guard, a second before reappearing beside Clarke.
"Lie still," the blonde pleads, taking the clothes Lexa hands her and pressing them into the wound. The strained squawk that bursts from Myles' throat at the hideous sensation of rough material being forced against her wound is overtaken by desperate, thick gasps. "Stay with us, you're gonna be okay." Chains clang loudly several times as they clatter on the ground, the sound echoing louder than Myles' wet, struggling breaths. "You're okay, you're okay."
"You are strong," Lexa tells Myles earnestly as the weight dips on the bed, a bloodied and beaten Murphy appearing from the redhead's other side. "Be strong and fight."
"What do I do?" Murphy's choked up and shaky voice implores the blonde rapidly, "what do I do?"
"She's losing too much blood," Clarke wobbles out in a panic, frenzied blue eyes sweeping around the room. Her gaze stills on something, "over there. Pass me that medkit."
"Johnny," Myles gasps out weakly, the sound wet with the metallic taste coating the back of her throat and her tongue thickly. Murphy's hands stay away from her stomach where Clarke works to try to stop the bleeding, one of his hands coming up to rest beside her head to hold himself up as the other holds her arm tightly, like it's a lifeline. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry."
"No, I am," Murphy refuses, his voice wavering. "I tried to warn you but I couldn't."
"Not – not that," the redhead struggles out, and Lexa sprints back with the medkit, holding it open for Clarke to tell her what she needs. "I'm s – sorry for ta – tak – ing Bellam – y's side – wi – with Char – lo – "
"You already apologised," the brown-haired teen reminds her quickly, "I forgive you. Don't do this."
"You're gonna be fine," Clarke promises shakily, her voice cracking loudly. "Okay? Just stay still."
"I'm sa – ying," Myles continues, her gasps becoming larger and drowning her in a sea of pain, "it b – because – I ne – ed you – to do – some – thing for – me."
"What?" Murphy agrees instantly, fidgeting as if he'd been waiting his whole life to repay this favour. "What is it?"
"I ne – ed you – to le – leave," the red-haired teen gasps out, her agony making spots appear in her dizzy, swirling vision.
"No," the teen shakes his head rapidly, the motion slurring in foggy hazel eyes, "no, I'm staying. Who else is gonna bug you enough to stick around?"
"You – u've seen," Myles reasons, "too ma – ny pe – ople – die. I'm – n – not goin' – to b – e on th – that list."
"Because you're not going to die," Clarke begs tearfully, swapping the blood-soaked material on the teen's stomach with another shirt, the material squelching. "Just hang on. Stay with us."
"Don't you dare give up," Murphy warns her halfheartedly, and hazel eyes fight to stay open as a heavy weight tries to drag them down. "You don't get to give up. Stay awake."
"You will not die," Lexa promises her sternly, "do not be afraid. None of my people will ever harm you again. I swear it."
Hazel eyes droop shut, her chest stuttering softer and softer as the gasps of breaths become harsher and farther apart with lack of air. Murphy jolts Myles' arm and taps her sweaty and pale face frantically at the realisation.
"Hey," Murphy calls, glazed over and unfocused hazel eyes swinging to him dizzily, "stay awake. Don't close your eyes."
"Go," Myles begs weakly through a crack in her voice, her tired mind foggy.
"No," Murphy refuses stubbornly, his tone wet and shaky. "No, I'm not gonna do that." Hazel eyes slip closed, her breathing deflating before the lack of air and Murphy's panicked fingers drag her delirious mind back to muffled awareness. "Don't do that. Look at me. You didn't leave me." He doesn't need to explicitly say it was the day his dad was floated, Myles just knows it, and he knows that she does. "I said and did a lot of things and you never left me alone. I'm staying."
Myles goes to respond, but her tongue feels too heavy to move, only an incoherent string of gibberish from choking on the thick blood in her throat escaping her rosy lips as her eyes roll back into the deep, black abyss of unconsciousness.
AN: Hey, all! I know this is very canon-divergent, but please rest assured that I have plans to rectify it. Please bear with me! Much love