Octavia

She wished she had a mirror so she could admire her new hair- she had sought out the warrior she'd pointed out to Bellamy earlier, and the girl, Sena, had seemed as curious about Octavia as she was about her.

"What clan are you?" she'd asked, and the question had made Octavia cringe.

"I was Trikru," she said softly. "But I'm not anymore."

Sena frowned thoughtfully for a moment before she said, "To be banished from your kru, you must have done something very serious."

Octavia let out a heavy breath, leaning her head back to look at the sky. "It's a long story… the short version is I chose to save my brother instead of retreating with the rest of the Trikru to leave him to die after Lexa abandoned everyone."

Clearly sensing the venom in her voice, Sena was silent for a long moment. Finally she said, delicately, "And your parents?"

"My mother's dead," Octavia answered. "And I never knew my father." She remembered how she'd asked Bellamy about him, when things had still been relatively calm. She'd never really been curious about him before that moment, but her brother's reaction had intrigued her. Maybe when all of this was over… if of all this would ever be over… she'd ask again.

Sena had showed her how to weave the coloured threads through her braids, matching the tones of the strands to compliment Octavia's hair colour. When it was finished, it gave the impression that Octavia's hair was laced with fire, and a few of the strands even seemed to shine like gold, catching the sunlight. When it was finished Octavia grinned as she pulled her braids up in front of her eyes, admiring the look.

Giggling softly, Sena said, "Now you look like a mixture of Trikru and Fayakru."

Octavia couldn't help but smile a little. She wondered if, maybe by the end of her life, she would wear something from each of the Grounder clans. The idea had a strange appeal.

She thanked Sena and headed back to the tent they'd been given, admiring her hair in every reflective surface she saw between the two places.

When she stepped into the tent, she stopped short. Her brother was laying down on one of the beds, and Clarke was curled into him, her head on his chest, their hands intertwined over his stomach. She didn't know why it bothered her so much, seeing them that way, but it did. For a moment she didn't know what to do.

"Hey, nice hair," Bellamy said wryly, and she realised he wasn't asleep at all. She felt her face flame red, but she wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment, anger, or something else. All she knew was her emotions were churning and she felt like running, like punching something, like screaming.

"O?" This time she heard the concern in Bellamy's voice. He extracted himself from Clarke, waking her up, but he didn't seem to notice as he approached Octavia with a frown on his face, putting a hand on the back of her neck.

Octavia glared at Clarke as she got up hastily; her eyes darted between the two of them with obvious discomfort.

"Sleep well?" Octavia snapped, and she couldn't help the venom that dripped into her voice.

Clarke seemed startled, then hurt, and her eyes flickered to Bellamy as she said, "I'll go."

"No, it's fine… stay," Bellamy protested.

"No, it's not," Octavia countered. "Go."

"I'm going," Clarke said gently to Bellamy. "It's okay." She glanced once at Octavia but wisely said nothing before leaving them alone in the tent.

Bellamy seemed too worried to be annoyed. "O," he said gently, squeezing the back of her neck. She shrugged her shoulder away from him, walking past him and sitting down on one of the other beds, crossing her arms over her chest. She felt his eyes on her, felt him just watching her as she fumed. Finally he walked around and sat on the bed across from hers, so he was facing her. Their knees could have touched, but he made sure they didn't. "What's wrong?" he asked uncertainly.

Octavia ratcheted her eyes up to meet his and she felt her lip curl back in anger. "You and Clarke?"

She watched him cringe, shifting uncomfortably, before he said quietly, "Yeah."

It was hard for her to work out everything she was feeling- there were so many emotions battling in her chest that it felt totally overwhelming. But she was as surprised as Bellamy when she dropped her head into her hands and cried.

Obviously alarmed, he got hastily to his feet and sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms. She tried to push away from him but he knew she wasn't serious so he kept his arms around her, just holding her. "Is it that bad?" he asked finally. He sounded hurt.

"No," she snarled, sniffling against his chest. "Yes! I don't know!" She felt so hurt, so jealous and angry, so devastated, but she couldn't figure out why.

"O," he said softly, pulling back just a little so he could look at her. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, okay?" she yelled.

He let out his breath, but he sounded more sympathetic than irritated; it wasn't the first time she had cried in his arms with no explanation for why she was doing it. Between the ages of twelve and fourteen, it had been a weekly occurrence.

Softly he stroked her hair, trying to calm her, but she swatted his hands away and pushed back from his chest; this time he knew she was serious so he let her go, watched her as she stood and paced around the tent before sitting down across from him again. She could feel that there were still tears on her cheeks, but she wasn't actually crying anymore. Reluctantly she met his eyes, and she hated the vulnerability there, the gentleness, as he looked back at her.

"What about me?" she whispered, hating herself for asking the question.

His expression softened even more as he said tenderly, "Octavia... you know no one can ever replace you."

She pushed to her feet and charged around the tent for a minute before spinning back to him, glaring. She still felt tumultuous, like her brain and her heart and her stomach were all pulling in different directions. "I hit him, Bell," she exclaimed suddenly, not even knowing she was going to say it until the words left her lips. As soon as she said them she was crying again, and this time the tears were hot and thick, cascading down her cheeks.

Bellamy seemed totally bewildered as he got to his feet and wrapped her up in his arms. She clung to him, crying into his shoulder, holding tightly to his back.

"What are you talking about?" he asked gently.

"I hit him," she said again, her voice shaking dangerously. "I hit him and I called him a coward. I can't stop thinking about the look on his face…"

"Wait a minute, are you talking about Lincoln?" Bellamy asked, pulling back from her and cupping her face in his hands as she nodded her head wretchedly. She watched his face fall and he said gently, "O… don't do that."

"I can't stop," she said again. She had been replaying hers and Lincoln's relationship over and over in her mind every day since he'd died, and until now, she hadn't even realised how much guilt she felt for that moment. That one bad memory seemed to overshadow all the good ones now that Lincoln wasn't here to remind her how much he loved her, and seeing Bellamy and Clarke tangled up in each other's arms, she only felt his loss more keenly.

When she'd found him crouched over that man in the woods outside tonDC, tying him with rope, clearly planning to take him back to Mount Weather and exchange him for Red, she'd been disgusted. She'd been repulsed and sickened to see a man she'd thought of as so strong and brave, now reduced to a revolting addict, scavenging on other people to satisfy his own awful desires.

Drawing her sword, yelling at him, she'd shoved him away. He'd begged her, told her she didn't understand, that he couldn't fight the cravings- that they were too much. Octavia hadn't had any sympathy for him, just anger and revulsion.

The look on his face when he'd seen that disgust in her eyes, now played back a thousand times over in her mind, was enough to break her heart.

And then she'd hit him, punched him across the face. She'd hit him and she'd yelled at him, told him to crawl away and die alone like a coward if he wasn't strong enough to go with her, to fight it. She had been cruel, and now she couldn't stop thinking about it, about the naked anguish in his eyes, the tears that had built up behind his brown gaze- the shame he'd felt that she'd seen him like that.

And she couldn't escape the guilt she now felt for what she'd done, making him feel like, hurting him both physically and emotionally, just for the crime of being under the control of something horrible- something that had been done to him, not something he'd chosen.

Bellamy's hand on her cheek drew her back to the present and she was still crying. She looked at him, feeling guilty for what she'd done to Lincoln, guilty even for how she'd just blown up at Bellamy over Clarke. She didn't even care if he and Clarke were together, she was just upset because it reminded her of what she didn't have.

"Why couldn't I save him, Bell?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

"I know," he whispered, pulling her close again. "I know, I know… I'm sorry, O. I'm sorry we couldn't save him."

She clung to him, crying softly, soaking his shoulder with her grief. Finally she found her voice again and she told him, "I feel so alone. And now that horrible drug is in you too and I don't know what's going to happen."

He guided her over to the bed and they sat next down to each other. He kept her close to his chest as he told her vehemently, "Hey, O, listen to me. I'm not going to leave you. I've got you and I'm not going anywhere… you aren't alone."

"What about Clarke?" she asked, sniffling, trying to control her grief so she could have a proper conversation with him.

"Me and Clarke are…" He trailed off, clearly struggling to find the words. Stroking a hand over her hair he said, "Look, yes, we're something… or we're starting to be. But you and I…" He shook his head, shrugged. "We're everything. You're everything. And if you want me to stop things with her-"

Quickly she shook her head and said, "No. No, Bell, it's fine." She pulled back and looked at him so he knew she was telling the truth when she continued, "It's not even about you and Clarke… if you like her, that's fine. Really."

She couldn't help but notice how relieved he looked as he nodded. She felt her heart soften, knowing that he must have had really strong feelings for Clarke, yet he still loved his sister enough to turn his back on this new romance if it would stop her from being unhappy. She knew that wasn't right, not really, that it was a vestige from their mother's instruction at her birth that he always had to put her first. But it was still touching, still made her heart swell, warmed her up from the inside and made her feel safe, cocooned in his love as she had been the whole of her life.

"I want to go home, Bell," she said softly.

"We will," he promised her, and the conviction in his voice made her believe it. "I'm taking you home- both of you."

"If that is your plan, then we'd best discuss strategy," Lia suddenly spoke up, making both Blakes jump. She was standing just inside the tent, and Octavia had no idea how long she'd been there.

"Ever hear of knocking?" she snapped to the creepy little kid.

Lia frowned. "There is no door."

Bellamy was frowning too. "What happened to your cuffs?" he asked, and sure enough, the girl's wrists were bare.

She pulled a small length of rope from her belt and said, "Right here. There is no reason for concern. I will put them on again before I go back."

Octavia exchanged a glance with her brother. "So you're just wearing them for fun?" she asked dryly.

"No, not for fun," Lia answered, taking her question seriously. "But to keep up appearances. It will go better for us if they think I am contained."

Bellamy smiled a little at the ground, shaking his head, and he just said, "Okay then." Octavia looked askance at him, wanting to remind him that Lia wasn't a cute little child, she was a savage little beast who had murdered Lincoln.

"Should I get Clarke?" Octavia asked, wiping the last of her tears from her cheeks. She was annoyed at Lia for interrupting their moment, but she did see the importance of discussing their exit strategy.

"Me and Clarke and I already talked about this," Bellamy told her. "She's going to tell the commander that we have to speak with the council at Camp Jaha before we make any decisions."

"And if she refuses?" Lia asked him.

"She told Clarke she'd respect whatever decision she makes."

"The commander wishes to go to war with the Ice Nation," Lia pointed out. "She may only be saying that to be diplomatic."

"You know what's really funny?" Octavia asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's your fault Lexa is dead. So it's your fault there's going to be a war at all. If your queen dies, that's on you."

"O," Bellamy warned, grabbing her upper arm and pulling her a step back from Lia as if he'd just remembered they should be afraid of her. Octavia realised she probably shouldn't bait an assassin, even a child one, but Lia seemed unconcerned by her barbed words.

"I have decided to protect you," Lia informed them, looking at Bellamy to make a point of ignoring Octavia's antagonism. "All three of you."

Bellamy looked as shocked as Octavia felt as he said, "Why?"

She shrugged. "My reasons are my own."

"No way," Octavia protested. "That's not good enough."

She expected Lia to insist on her privacy, to snap an icy retort in response to that, but she just said, "When I was a child, I was raised alongside a boy named Kol- another shadow child. He was a several years older than me… close to the age difference between the two of you. He acted like what you call a first- he was responsible for a large part of my training. We grew very close." Looking to Bellamy she said, "You remind me of him." Her eyes flickered toward Octavia for a moment before she clarified, "That is, you remind me of him when you're with her."

"What happened to him?" Octavia couldn't help but ask, noticing that Lia had spoken about him entirely in the past tense.

"He's dead," the girl said shortly. "I killed him because I was told to."

Octavia glanced at Bellamy, who met her eyes and swallowed. Neither of them knew what to say.

"I am not looking for sympathy," Lia told them. "But I have regretted that action for five years now, and this is the closest I have ever come to an opportunity to make up for it. I have weighed my options carefully, and I believe that if I kill you, or even if I let you die, I will regret that too. So I will protect the two of you-" She glanced at Bellamy. "And Clarke, because I know you will not leave her behind. I will deliver you safely to the gates of your camp, regardless of anything else that may happen." Lia glanced backward toward the tent flap for a moment before turning her attention again to the Blakes. "I will wait for the outcome of Clarke's conversation with the commander, and then we will leave- one way or another."

The two of them watched as Lia slipped the rope back around her wrists, cinching it tight, and then she left the tent and slipped into the darkness.

"Please tell me you just heard what I did," Bellamy said, still looking shocked.

Octavia glanced at him, and she saw the gratitude in his eyes, the same gratitude she'd seen when he'd realised Lia had gotten them all safely out of Raven Rock. Clenching her jaw in frustration she told him, "She still killed Lincoln, so she's still not forgiven. Besides, you heard her- she's only doing this for herself." Shaking her head, she went on, "I need some air. I'll tell Clarke to come back to you."

Before he could protest or say anything else, Octavia whipped the tent flap aside and stalked out into the night.