I'm going through and re-writing and editing this story so it actually has a plot and storyline. A lot of the first chapters will be similar content-wise, so I hope you enjoy it.

Stay safe,

Brielle

….

Chapter 1: Rumors of a Civil War

The alliance between Skaikru and Trikru wavered more than the breaths rattling in Octavia's lungs. The trust they had managed to build between the two krus seemed thinner than ice; a pebble tossed could shatter the entire relationship.

If that's what it could even be called. Octavia had taken to Trikru quickly, even after getting her ass publicly beaten by one of their warriors.

She hadn't given up, though. She had a fire within her that she wanted to release, wanted to use, but it needed to be tamed, and Indra had been teaching her how. Octavia earned the privilege of becoming her Second, and in a few short months, she'd become lethal.

Despite the relatively good terms the two krus were on at the moment, Azgedakru sought to end Leksa kom Trikru's rule as Heda.

Clarke Griffin, the 100's healer and leader, had been with the Heda for days now and had only just returned with the news that Azgeda sought blood.

Thus came Octavia's part.

She'd followed an Azgeda warrior in the hopes of him leading her back to any Azgeda spies, but the trail had gone cold.

The hair on her arms stood and chill bumps appeared in waves down her arms. Someone watched her and yet she couldn't see who. Octavia drew her sword and stalked through the forest, her footfalls silent on the moss and fern leaves. She scanned each tree, plant, and rock while she listened for any movement.

Someone watched her.

She took two fingers and smeared the charcoal around her eyes farther down her cheek and then readjusted her grip around the hilt of her sword. Octavia had been following Azgeda, but it would seem the tables had turned. She felt like prey and Azgeda was the predator just waiting for her to spring the trap.

Octavia continued her sweep, but after only three steps, she halted, listening.

The muscles in her jaw worked as she clutched her sword.

There, over her right shoulder; a step too heavy to be an animal. Octavia spun around just in time to stop the descent of the Azgeda warrior's sword.

Their blades sang upon impact, and the warrior's eyes gleamed with the promise of blood to be spilled.

"The Heda is not fit to rule the thirteen clans," he growled.

Octavia ground her sword against his, using all her strength to keep both blades away from her neck. "Lexa is smart and ruthless. She let Roan live after defeating him in the duel and yet he wastes her mercy."

"Showing him mercy was weak."

"Knowing when to not strike is not weakness," Octavia said as she shoved him and his blade away from her.

"The other eleven clans will agree once they see that the Heda is unfit to rule."

Octavia paused. "Azgeda plans a civil war."

The warrior snarled at her. "The Heda will cause a civil war—a massacre. There will be too much blood on her hands to ever come clean."

A massacre—

"You choose her reputation since you can't kill Lexa outright."

The warrior tilted his head, white-painted face smeared in places, and flashed a wicked grin. "I may not get the honor of slitting the Heda's throat, but I'll happily settle for yours instead."

Azgeda charged and leapt on Octavia with immense force, metal blades clanging in the quiet forest. Octavia moved quickly, thankful for the muscle memory that kept both hands on her weapon and her feet beneath her. The warrior swung, but it was wide and arcing, so she rolled out of the way. As soon as her feet touched ground, she was up and facing Azgeda again.

"Skaikru is no kru of ours," he spat, lunging toward Octavia's throat.

She dodged and returned a blow of her own which caught the warrior's left shoulder. He hissed as the blade sliced through leather and fur.

His icy gaze turned to her. "You are not one of us."

"Ai laik Okteivia kom Trikru en kom Skaikru," she said softly, though her stared blazed. "We're all Grounders now."

The warrior spat at her feet, a sneer pulling at the top of his lip.

Octavia didn't hesitate when she lunged again. Their weapons danced off one another, and with each thrust Octavia sent his way, the Azgeda deflected away from him. He was big, so she used that to her advantage. When he aimed his sword at her head, she dodged and spun around it, closing the gap between them. Before he could pull his sword close, she slammed her elbow into his gut. A breath knocked out of him and he stumbled, but as he went backward, he threw a foot at Octavia's abdomen.

Luckily, with him falling away from her, the blow didn't have as much impact as it should have, and Octavia caught herself before she could fall.

He stood, one hand over his ribs and growled, "Nau yu na wan op."

Octavia glared right back. "Nowe."

He flurried his sword and took his stance. "Em pleni," he said and charged.

Octavia met his sword in a deadly whirlwind of metal as they circled underneath the green canopy of trees. The dance was brutal and efficient. They each drew blood, but the wounds were superficial. Octavia redirected the warrior's stab harmlessly to the side, and as he fell, she kicked the back of his kneecap. Despite the roar of pain he let out, he stood quick enough to catch her in the side of her face with his fist.

Her temple split open and blood ran freely from her eyebrow to her jaw. She swiped at it but didn't think about the dark red smeared across the back of her hand.

Octavia turned to the warrior but was met with dirt in her eyes. In the moments it took her to clear them, cold metal burned through her flesh. She felt her skin open in the wake of the blade, yet she managed to see enough to dodge the next swing Azgeda aimed for her head. Octavia ducked and dove forward, and as she did, she sliced her blade clean through his torso. She stood, an arm against her side.

The warrior's eyes widened before he collapsed upon the moss that became stained red in seconds.

Octavia sheathed her sword, shoulders sagging. "Yu gonplei ste odon," she whispered.

She glanced to the sky. Dark would be upon her soon. With a trembling hand over her wound, she stumbled her way back to Arkadia.

….

Arkadia bustled with Skaikru and Trikru, and it wasn't until Octavia passed under the sign into camp that she realized just how quiet the forest was. While under the trees, she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, could hear her blood flowing through her veins, could hear the trees whispering to one another. Here, people talked in English and Trigedasleng, metal met metal in the training rings, fists met bodies as the warriors drilled, and the clanging of spoons in pots as the evening meals cooked, echoed in the air.

As Octavia walked further into the camp, a voice called her name. She looked up, searching for the source. "Clarke," she sighed as their Healer approached from a nearby tent. She glanced over the girl's shoulder. "Have the others returned?"

"That's what I was coming to ask you," Clarke said, exhaling through her nose. "You're the first to return."

Octavia's gaze roamed around the camp, but not a single warrior could be seen. "Lincoln…"

Clarke shook her head. "We haven't heard anything."

Octavia nodded, readjusting her arms over her torso. "Indra had commanded me to follow the Azgeda scout back to their camp, but I lost his trail. He tried to ambush me, but I managed to kill him. I know it's not ideal, especially since I failed to find the camp, but—"

"You're alive," Clarke said, patting a hand to her shoulder. "That's all I care about. We can always find another way to gain an advantage over Azgeda."

"Clarke," Octavia said, catching her wrist. "Azgeda plans to create a civil war. They plan to massacre their own clans—their own people—and somehow pin it on Lexa."

Clarke brushed a stray hair from her face and looked away. "If the other clans think Lexa has any hand in a massacre, they'll never let her be Heda of all thirteen clans." She looked at Octavia. "They'll want her blood."

"Jus drein jus daun," Octavia whispered, nodding.

"Lexa has to know."

"I agree, but Polis is two days ride from Arkadia," Octavia said, following Clarke as she made her way into the Ark. "We have no idea how soon Azgeda plans to implement the first parts of their civil war."

Clarke spun around, head tilted. "Then what else would you suggest we do? I can't sit here and do nothing."

"Clarke." The Healer paused and turned. "Perhaps it's not Trikru that we should be worried about," Octavia said, one hand raised at her side. "Our focus should be on Azgeda. They're the ones planning this massacre. We need to stop them—stop the fire at its source so its sparks can't ignite the dry leaves around it."

Clarke nodded slowly, seeming to take it all in. "Yes, you're right."

Octavia took a breath and risked a glance down at the hand she had pressed against her wound. She swallowed; the black clothes from her torso down to the knee of her left leg shone. She'd lost a lot of blood, but the black of her jacket and pants hid the red stain of it as long as no one looked too closely at it.

Clarke raised a brow.

"What?" Octavia said, glancing around.

"You should come with me to go find Bellamy," she said.

"He's here?"

"With his leg still healing, Kane ordered him to stay behind."

Octavia nodded. "I'll follow you," she said, swallowing the chill that had set in.

"Wait." Clarke caught her by the shoulder and turned Octavia toward the light that streamed in through the entrance of the Ark, her gaze aimed at her legs. She looked up at Octavia. "You're bleeding." Octavia glanced sidelong at the wall and sighed. "Octavia," Clarke said and touched a finger to her pants which came off red. She started turning Octavia's body, searching for the source of the blood. "What the hell?" she gasped softly. "Where you planning on sharing this with me?"

"In a little bit," Octavia muttered.

"No, not in a little bit. Now."

"Clarke, please," Octavia hissed, trying to pull out of the grip Clarke had wrapped around her wrist. "There are more important things. Please, just—let's go talk to Bel first and then I'll sit down."

"Octavia, we're not on the Ark anymore," she hissed, stepping closer. "From all that blood, I can tell that's a significant wound, and we don't have the medical supplies we used to. Cuts like those need to be dealt with immediately so that infection doesn't set in because we don't have antibiotics anymore."

"I'm fine, Clarke." The lie left her mouth too easily. Even now Octavia had to clench her teeth to fight through the burning that had latched on.

"No, you're not."

"I am," she said and took a breath. "Five minutes. That's all I'm asking for. I want to be a part of this as long as I can."

Clarke considered, and even though she shook her head, she mumbled, "Fine, but you're staying right by my side."

After visiting a few different rooms on the Ark, the two girls managed to find Bellamy sitting on a stool eating a small bowl of stew. When they entered, he stood.

"O," he said, glancing at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded and gave him a terse smile. "Of course."

Clarke side-eyed her but stayed silent. Instead, she said, "Octavia managed to find out from the Azgeda warrior she killed that they're planning to incite a civil war."

"How?"

Clarke explained everything Octavia had recounted to her, and when she finished, he asked, "Why not just kill Lexa?"

Octavia had considered the same question, but the pain in her side clouded her thoughts. She inhaled shakily and swallowed again.

Thankfully, Clarke answered. "Those who support Lexa as Heda now may turn against Azgeda if they assassinated her. By turning the other clans against her, that ensures at least eleven clans rioting for her blood. The death of the Heda could start an uprising, but a strategic hit to the people could ensure the Heda de-throned."

Bellamy blinked. "That's smart."

Clarke shook her head. "That's probably the stupidest decision we've made since landing here—underestimating the Grounders. They're war people. This kind of fight is in their blood." She looked between the two of them. "I would expect no less."

"So, what do we do?" Bellamy said, arms folded across his chest.

"We have to stop Azgeda somehow. Lexa can't be blamed for a massacre and consequently the start of a civil war if Azgeda doesn't get the chance to kill."

Octavia could feel herself losing strength. Every breath was pained, and the muscles of her abdomen hitched when the strips of her torn jacket grazed the edges of her bloody flesh. Blood squished between her fingers as she held her palm against the wound. She rocked slightly, leaning into Clarke.

With a glance, Clarke seemed to understand. With a subtle shift of her weight, she leaned back into Octavia which kept her mostly upright.

"Roan lost to Lexa in the duel. Perhaps she would be able to negotiate terms with him, stop this bloodshed," Bellamy said.

Clarke shook her head. "Although Roan was named King of the Ice Nation, his life is indebted to Lexa. He's too prideful to ever settle that debt."

Bellamy shook his head and shrugged. "I can't believe he'd willingly massacre his own people just to make sure Lexa is no longer Heda. That's all any of us want to do; protect our people."

"Speaking of people," Clark said, moving suddenly enough that Octavia nearly fell to the side. She followed Clarke's gaze out the door into the hallway where Indra stood. The ghost of a smile picked at the corner of her mouth.

"Indra," Clarke walked over to the Trikru leader, "we need to have a meeting. Right now."

Indra nodded, one hand on the hilt of her sword. "Kane is outside."

Clarke nodded and left, leaving Octavia to stand on her own, which was becoming increasingly difficult as the minutes passed. She ground her teeth, jaw muscles working.

Footsteps approached her. "Ha yun, yongon," Indra said.

Octavia glanced up at her First, but she couldn't manage a smirk. "Monin hou."

Indra placed a hand on Octavia's shoulder. "Were you worried, girl?"

"Not for a second." The ground wavered and nausea roiled through her. "Forgive me, Indra, but I need to see Clarke."

Her First's eyes narrowed. "Something's wrong?"

She shook her head but the pain screamed as if in response to the lie. Octavia nodded, swallowing a gasp. "I just…need Clarke." She didn't make it more than a step before her legs gave out.

Indra managed to snag Octavia by her arms to prevent her from falling hard, but she couldn't keep her up.

"O," Bellamy gasped, stepping forward.

"Go get Clarke, boy," Indra said, her voice sharp. "Now."

Bellamy's footsteps barely registered in Octavia's mind; already reality had gone black as she lay on the edge of unconsciousness.

Indra lowered her to the ground, and at last, Octavia's arm fell away from her side, releasing the loose blood she'd semi-trapped inside.

"What have you done, girl?" Indra whispered, her hands finding Octavia's ravaged torso. "This was foolish."

She didn't have the strength to open her eyes and look up at her First, so Octavia just clutched her sleeve with trembling fingers. "He's dead," she muttered. "I made sure to end it. Azgeda doesn't know that we know their plans. I made sure of it." The floor lurched beneath her and only Indra's body kept Octavia from losing all grip on her surroundings.

A hand stroked her temple, avoiding the gash above her eyebrow, but the fingers shook. "Where the hell is Clarke?" Indra growled, already beginning to stand when Clarke burst in.

The vibrations of her steps shook through Octavia, but she couldn't make out any words. Her breaths came slower. The voices around her became muffled as though Clarke and Indra were shouting through water. Despite the hands on her face, her body, Octavia released herself to the dark as it welcomed her with open arms.