#she tried to do the good thing when she won the conclave

[multifandomaddictedfangirl]

When you think about it, Octavia’s arc actually makes a lot of sense.

Octavia has always been an antisocial girl and an insecure young woman. She grew up hidding under the floor on the Ark, with no human/social interactions (except her mom and her brother) for 16 years. Her mother died when she was very young (btw she was floated for having Octavia, try not to feel guilty for the rest of your life after that...) so the main person Octavia’s been talking to is Bellamy. She never left her bedroom except for that one time where she got arrested and put in a prison cell. She was sentenced to death just for being born.

When the Hundreds were sent to the ground, not only she had to learn to survive; she also had to learn how to socialise. How to belong in a group and be a part of something bigger than herself. A society. For the first time.

For someone who basically had no soft skills (communication skills, for instance) that must have been pretty hard. And pretty scary. My theory is Octavia has always felt very insecure about not fitting in, not being good enough for people to like and appreciate her, not finding a home on Earth. My guess is she was terrified her life on Earth would be like on the Ark: that she would end up isolated, scared and alone.

And that’s why she had to find something that would make her unique. When she met Lincoln, she learnt that she could fight. And that she was quite good at it - especially compared to the Hundreds. That’s what made her valuable. Suddenly she was a hero, someone that the Hundreds needed in order to survive. Her fighting skills made her special.

But then she became... too special. Too much like a Grounder. And Grounders were the enemy back then. She was judged for being too close to Lincoln, even by her own friends. Her loyalty was questioned by her peers. People suddenly looked down on her for the way she dressed, talked and acted. Even her fighting style became a problem: she wouldn’t use guns... just like the Grounders. Even Bellamy, her own brother, didn’t like it.

She didn’t belong with the Hundreds anymore. She knew she couldn’t stay with them. But then again, she wasn’t a true Grounder either. Not really. And she knew she would never be looked at as anything else than a sky person - no matter how hard Lincoln would try to educate her and teach her their way of living.

Octavia didn’t belong anywhere again.

Maybe if she had agreed to follow Lincoln when he suggested they ran away together to avoid war... She could have found her peace then. Lincoln had always been her home. He made her feel safe. She belonged with him and she had never been happier than when she was with him.

She felt so honored when she became Indra’s second. In s5 she even says it was the happiest day of her life. Finally, she had found a place in this world and a person who understood and respected her skills. It must have felt so good. Truth is Octavia really, truly, deeply liked being a warrior. It was a role she could assume easily and where she felt like she was needed. ´Warrior’ is a title she learnt to look up to, and value a lot. Lincoln and Indra were both warriors and they were both the two people Octavia respected and loved the most.

Being called a warrior made her feel strong, confident and powerful. No more insecurities. No more fears. She was no longer the girl hidden under the floor, or the lost delinquent trying to find her place on Earth. Now, she was a well respected member of a community. I believe she chose to define herself as a warrior, because it was the only thing that made her feel good about herself : like she had some honorable value whatsoever.

When Lincoln died, Octavia lost everything. For the first time in a long long time, she was vulnerable. She couldn’t feel safe or strong or powerful anymore. All she could feel was her sadness, her loss, her pain. It was too much for her, she was scared that without Lincoln, she wouldn’t be worth anything. She couldn’t face these feelings, so she built up a wall inside of her. I believe that’s why she turned the word ‘warrior’ into her whole identity. That’s why she acted so tough during s3 and s4. She used it like a shield to protect herself from her pain and misery. To fill the void inside of her left by Lincoln’s death because she couldn’t grieve.

A good example of that is her relationship with Illian. She almost killed herself in the black rain, just to avoid these painful feelings. She begged him to make her feel something else. Something else than pain. And then, even after they had sex, all she could think about was the war happening and how she wasn’t in it... She was so broken at this point. Lincoln’s death destroyed her completely. The only way for her to move on is to take on what she thought was Lincoln’s legacy and keep fighting.

And so, she had to rebuild herself. That’s why she choose to go to Polis and fight in the Conclave: to honor Lincoln. Her face paint was a good representation of that. In her mind, Lincoln was brave, he was a warrior. And so she had to be one too. She had to fight, because Lincoln never stopped fighting. And if Lincoln never stopped fighting, there must be hope at the end of the line. Even for her.

And hope she brought, by uniting all the clans. She offered a place in a bunker to a 100 people of the 12 different clans. Salvation for everyone (including herself). She created Wonkru (first) as a tribute to Lincoln. Because that’s what he would have done. Because he believed in peace. Because he wanted to bring people together, even during his last days on Earth. Octavia wanted to commemorate that.

The problem is... So far, Octavia strickly and only defined herself as a warrior, not as a leader. She refused that role for a long time, doubting herself, fearing people wouldn’t follow her, thinking she couldn’t do it. Which makes sense considering what she’d been through on the Ark and her vision of leadership. Her chancellor floated her mother, one of the two people she ever knew and loved. Plus, her experience with leadership on the ground wasn’t exactly the best example either : Bellamy (we do whatever the hell we want, killing the firt boy she ever kissed and had a crush on, torturing Lincoln...), Jaha (besides from floating her mom, bringing the city of light into Arkadia and Polis and forcing people to take a chip to be manipulated by an AI), Pike (hating all grounders alike, organising a massacre resulting in 300 Grounder deaths, and executing Lincoln)...

But now, by winning the Conclave and creating Wonkru, she became the leader of the last surviving people of the human race. And first of all, that’s a lot of pressure for a deeply insecure, messed-up, broken, still mourning, inexperienced young woman.

But most of all, Octavia was no Clarke. And she knew it. Cause let’s be real. Throughout the show, no matter who was the chancellor/commander/leader, Clarke was really in charge.

Except Clarke had learnt how to lead by now. Lexa even said Clarke was born to lead. Since s1 se automatically took control of things because it’s in her nature to care about others and to be in charge. What made her a good leader is that she knew how to make impossible choices and take tough decisions if needed to (the big attack at the dropship in s1, Mount Weather in s2, destroying the city of life in s3, etc.). But Clarke never lost her hope, her moral values and most of all her humanity in the process. Despite everything, Clarke was always trying to avoid the worst outcome, trying to save as many people as she could. She would always study all of her options beforehand, and almost always she would try to find a non-violent solution first (in Mount Weather, for instance, her first plan was a rescue mission with Lexa; then she tried to negociate with Wallace for the release of her people, and when there was no other option, she pulled the trigger). She generally values peace and will try to avoid war as much as possible (she met with Anya on the bridge, she proposed a truce to Lexa, she made an alliance with Roan...). She could sometimes spare a life, even a life of a traitor or an enemy (Emerson, for instance!). She took risks herself in order to save everyone (besides from sacrifying herself so that her friend could go to space, she also didn’t hesitate to inject herself nightblood bone marrow instead of just using emori). Now, let me be clear. She ain’t perfect, that’s for sure. She screwed up more than once, who hasn’t ? But in such a terrible setting, being faced with impossible choices, she always tried to do her best and to chose the "best option" available (considering the context, the information she had at the time, etc.)

Besides, even at the end, she could still draw a line between the good and the bad. It doesn’t mean she never crossed that line. She did. But at least she was aware of the cruelty, the violence and the consequences of her actions. It was never easy for her to take any of these decisions. And she still feels guilty about it now, to the point she hates herself, but she knows it was her job to "bear it so they don’t have to". To be the bad guy sometimes so that her people could live. To make hard choices - even if it meant being hated by people she cared about - so that her people could have a clear conscience in the end. As a good leader should.

In a word, Clarke didn’t sacrifice herself, her sanity or her humanity, in order to be able to lead her people. Octavia did.

Oh boy, she really did. And I think it’s because Octavia knew that she couldn’t be like Clarke. She knew she couldn’t be tough, take hard decisions and still keep her moral compass. She knew she couldn’t be strong enough to lead 12 clans of grounders (without the legitimacy of the flame!) and remain the same Octavia that she was before going to that bunker. She knew she couldn’t keep her humanity because the guilt would kill her off. Besides, in 5x11 (i think?) we see her taking a piece of glass and almost cut her wrist because she can’t take it anymore, but at the last time she changes her mind. It wasn’t the first time she did that, in my opinion. She knew that if she was gonna be a ruler, she had to go all in. She had to become absolutely ruthless; otherwise she wouldn’t be able to take the hard decisions. She had to throw away her moral values, she had to shut down that part of herself who cared, who loved, who felt things. She couldn’t allow the little girl she was to come back and compromise the survival of the human race. She couldn’t allow herself to be weak, the stakes were too high.

So she created Blodreina. A ruthless leader. A persona that could lead strongly, take the hard decisions, and show no mercy. Not even for Indra or Kane. Someone who could do all of these horrible things without feeling guilty. And years after years, Octavia disappeared a bit more. And Blodreina grew stronger.

And, so, this dictator ruled Wonkru for 6 years. That’s how long Blodreina reigned and slowly took control over Octavia. The real problem with Octavia in s5 isn’t what she did during the Dark Year; it’s what she did after that.

First of all, cannibalism wasn’t even her idea. It was Abby’s. Octavia never wanted this, she tried to fight it but Abby pushed it, saying it was the only thing to do in order to survive. And when some people refused to eat, Abby (again!) was the one saying she should punish by death the one who wouldn’t follow her order.

Second of all, in that context, it probably was the only option for them. At that point, they believed they were the last humans on Earth. They had to survive, it made sense that, as a leader, Octavia had to consider every option available. And there was only one, as terrible as it sounded. Taking away people’s choice in that matter was the limit Octavia should have never crossed. But Abby insisted and said not forcing people to eat would be the worst choice possible to make and would lead them all to starvation... So in a way, there, Blodreina was useful. She avoided the worst scenario possible. And it sort of made sense back then.

Third of all, no one stood by her during that time : not Kane, not Abby, not even Indra. They were with her, they advised her, they followed her, they ate, sure. But who actually had to create and impose that rule? Octavia. Who had to look like the bad guy in front of her people? Octavia. Who had to eat first? Octavia. Who had to kill those who wouldn’t obey? Octavia. Who had to organise, watch and regulate the fights in the arena? Octavia. Who had to stay strong no matter how horrifying their everyday life was? Octavia. Abby didn’t move a finger (while it was all her idea). Kane ended up by obeying but made it clear he was against the idea. Indra didn’t talk about it. It was a burden she had to carry alone (at least Clarke had Bellamy!). She would have needed emotional support, someone to share the weight of her choices with, someone to talk to about her feelings, etc. But she didn’t have that.

So I don’t blame Octavia for what happened in the Dark Year. She did what she had to, there was no other option. She didn’t like it, she didn’t want it, and she had to bear that choice on her own because no one else supported her like they should have. The fighting pit, which was at the beginning what looked like a (sort of) fair way to bring justice, became a source of food, a tool, a way to survive.

But after the Dark Year, not only Octavia kept the fighting pit (which was no longer needed now that Wonkru faithfully followed her and that the Dark Year had passed) but she increased the number of fights. She gave herself the power to judge the fights and condamn people to fight again before earning their freedom. The deal wasn’t fair anymore for the fighters. She even threw in people she knew were innocent (Kane, for instance). So much for justice. The opinion of Wonkru as spectators became very important: if people weren’t satisfied with the fight, Blodreina would force people to fight anyway. Indra warned Bellamy: being the last person standing wasn’t enough. They had to make a show, they had to perform.

Octavia turned the fighting pit into sports, as Kane said. As a way of entertainment.

Octavia impersonated Blodreina when Wonkru needed a strong, ruthless leader who could carry them into the dark... But then, Blodreina took control for so long that Octavia forgot who she was. She played the ruthless ruler card too much that she lost her humanity in the process. And when she got out of the bunker, she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to move on from the horror she inflicted. She didn’t know how to get back to "normal".

Shallow Valley became her salvation. The justification she needed all along for all of her terrible actions in that bunker. The one thing that would make everything okay again. If she could only get her people to that safe eden, then everything she had done to survice would make sense. She was so focused on that goal that she blinded herself.

That scene with Indra, before the battle for Shallow Valley, is so heartbreaking. When she says, "When we get to that valley, everything will make sense. Everything we did to survive will be worth it", you can see that it’s actually Octavia talking (not Blodreina). She is telling Indra : please, let’s trust Blodreina just one more time, and then it will all be over. I think that she (Octavia) wants peace, deep down. She keeps repeating that, but she’s still afraid of leading Wonkru as Octavia. She has only earned their respect with Blodreina. Blodreina kept them alive during the Dark Year. Blodreina truly united Wonkru. Octavia still doesn’t think she can lead by herself, without that persona.

So Octavia shuts herself down to let Blodreina lead them again. And Blodreina wants war more than anything else. She would never surrender. And most importantly, she decides to take away people’s choice again, except this time she didn’t need to (like when she burnt the hydrofarm for instance). But that makes sense, because she only cares about one thing: winning the war, no matter what.

To conclude: Octavia’s journey is really hard to rewatch. Especially when you see her in s1 so young, happy and playful... But it makes sense. Yes, Octavia became a ruthless dictator who took away people’s will. Blodreina is the villain of the story in s5 (at least one of them). Her actions are beyond cruel and insensitive. A lot of people will die because of her decisions. She’s acting like a maniac half the time and she is (clearly) very mentally messed-up. i’m not standing by her side, saying I approve what she did or even that I find her likeable in her own way. I don’t even know if redemption is possible at this point. She might be gone too far.

But I just think her story is interesting in the sense that she has been falling down ever since Lincoln’s death and the persona she created, Blodreina, seems to be a result of her deep trauma, her pain, and her insecurities. She’s a broken, traumatised girl who has been put in a very hard position as an inexperienced and self-doubting leader in (possibly) the worst circonstances ever. Yeah, I’m not really surprised that it turned out this way.

Plus, now the valley is lost forever. Everything Octavia did (in the bunker and outside in s5) was for nothing. People died for nothing. And, unfortunately for her, she was wrong when she was talking to Indra before the battle : no, everything was not worth it... nothing makes sense. I doubt she will be able to get over that. She needed this win to be able to move on, to justify her actions, to find her peace. Without it, she’s just very susceptible to fall into old patterns of self-destruction. Plus, Bellamy really doesn’t seem ready to give her forgiveness (the one thing that might save her... at least that’d be a good start). And she’s not ready to receive it, either. Sadly, she might never be ready to really accept it.

#the 100 #the 100 rewatch #spoilers #octavia blake #octavia #blodreina #the red queen #s5 #season 5 #the 100 spoilers #character analysis #my posts #my post #just my thoughts #her journey is so tragic #i feel bad for her when i see her back in s1 #she didn’t want any of this #she tried to do the good thing when she won the conclave #it’s just so sad #she was just a teen in the end... #forced to take on too much responsibility in a messed-up world #so yeah... #:/ #i don’t know if this post can be considered like a stan #i don’t really support what Octavia has become #I really wasn’t rooting for her in s5 #Killing her/Poisoning her was a solid plan in order to fight for peace #But I’m just saying her story is really unfortunate #she’s so traumatised and it’s sad to watch her go down like that #but that doesn’t justify everything either... it just makes sense that things turn out this way

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [68]

x. the warriors will

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughts and Shumway, fighting, violence, injuries, language, mentions of blood.

Summary: Your worst nightmare becomes your current reality; you and Bellamy are put into the fighting pits together, alongside Indra and Gaia. Who will be the last?

a/n: THIS IS MY FAVORITE EPISODE TO DATE! I’m so excited to hear what you guys think of this chapter, I hope you like it!!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You forgot how excruciating it is to wait for death, but your current confinement is quick to remind you.

It’s strange how each time is worse than the last. When you were in the Skybox, locked up in solitary, abused by Shumway, you rarely feared death. At times, you almost looked forward to it, and the idea that you’d finally be free of the abuse and pain was enough to make you wish your 18th birthday would come sooner. But then you’d remember Clarke and your mom, and despite your strained relationship with them both, you didn't want to leave them behind. When Pike arrested you with Kane, Lincoln, and Sinclair, that longing for death never came. You were terrified of the idea that you’d lose Clarke, Bellamy, Octavia, your friends, your life. Suddenly you had all these things that were yours. People that loved you, people you loved, threatened by Pike and his tyrannous rule, the dictator of Skaikru all too eager to take that away from you. But then you were saved and that fear passed, and you thought you were done with waiting to die.

Until Octavia’s tyrannous rule over Wonkru brought all that fear rushing back to you. Just like before, you have even more to lose than the last time you faced this wait. Now you have a niece, bright as the sun, who has brought you joy and comfort through some of the hardest years you’ve had to live through. Madi was always there to remind you of Bellamy and his love for you, giving you the strength to go on and keep fighting, even when you didn't want to. And though you aren't sure if you have Bellamy’s love anymore, you’ll never get the chance to know for sure. You’ll die while having a broken relationship with Bellamy, and you’ll die having a broken relationship with your twin. You just wish you had a chance to explain everything to her before she was whisked away, but it’s too late now. Now, as you await death, is not the time for regrets. Instead, you know you should reminisce on the good times you’ve had, the high points in your life, but you’re not sure you have the strength in your heart to do it. Remembering all you had and all you could have will just hurt you more than anything, reminding you that moments like that will never happen to you again.

You pull your eyes open and stare at the gray ceiling, shifting your eyes over to the symbol of Wonkru that hangs on the wall, printed onto a red strip of fabric. The more you stare at it, the more you realize it’s heavily inspired by Lincoln. The handle of the sword symbol is made up of the tattoos that went down the back of Lincoln’s head. The same tattoos, you finally realize, that were adorned on Cooper’s face. The tattoos from his chest that Octavia used for her war paint during the Final Conclave, make up the blade of the sword. You feel a rush of sadness as you remember Lincoln and his death, his legacy still so evident even years after he was killed. It hangs like a ghost over everything Octavia is, everything she does, though you suspect that recently she must have forgotten. Something tells you that peacekeeping Lincoln, so determined to unite Skaikru and Grounders that he died for his cause, would not be a fan of the fighting pits. 

You start to wonder what Lincoln thought of in his last moments. Was his imprisonment as excruciating as yours is panning out to be? Was it worse once he was left behind by the rest of you? Was he scared to die? What did it feel like? Did it hurt? The more you start to think about it, the more you resent going out this way, likely bleeding out on the floor of a bunker in some slow and painful way. If you had to choose, you’d choose a death that was calm, painless, and hopefully one you never saw coming. Something about knowing this is the end, reminds you of all the things you left unsaid, all the things you never got to do.

You are suddenly pulled out of your spiral of thoughts by the sound of a door scraping open, letting you know you have a visitor. You don't move from your place, sure it’s no one interesting, and you just keep your gaze locked on the ceiling as you spread out on the bench in the room the best you can. 

“It’s funny, Bellamy was in the exact same position you’re in when I went to see him.”

Your head snaps to the side, surprised to see Octavia stepping into the room, and you sit up, fighting the flash of anger that threatens to rise from the arrival of your friend, your sister. You say nothing to her, not sure you can bite your tongue and keep your comments to yourself. You just turn towards the door to the room, making space for her to settle on the bench opposite of you, careful to keep her distance. You’re sure she knows how pissed you are, but you don't know if that’s why she stays away. “I just came to tell you, the four of you will be fighting in the arena later today.”

“I figured.”

“This is not what I wanted.” You turn to her, giving her a look that lets her know you aren’t buying her bullshit, but the expression on her face is sincere, almost pleading. “I didn’t want you to fight, any of you. But half of my army is refusing to march, too interested in following a child Commander than me. This is the only way we get to the valley.”

You scoff and look away from her again. “Wrong. We had a way to get to the valley, and no one had to die. All you had to do was surrender.”

“This war is inevitable. If you think we could live peacefully with those-”

You cut her off, your voice rising, “We won’t ever know if we could live peacefully with them, now will we? Because you are so addicted to the power you hold that you refuse to see the options all around you! Everything doesn't have to be a fight, Octavia!”

“Yes, it does! Down here it does! We have fought for our lives, our survival, from the moment we landed on the ground. That didn't change when we got locked in this bunker 6 years ago. Nothing about living in this damned bunker was easy!”

She chokes up on the last word, and despite yourself, you feel a wave of sympathy for her. You turn to her, eyes searching her face, seeing all the ghosts that haunt her. Your voice is low, much lower than before when you ask, “What happened down here, Octavia?”

“The Dark Year happened.”

“What is that? What does that mean?”

She stands suddenly, turning away from you. “I don't want to talk to you about the Dark Year, that’s not why I’m here.”

“You already told me why you’re here. So if that’s all…”

You trail off, hoping she gets the point, understands the silent ‘piss off’ that you don't say. But she doesn't. She turns to look at you, her expression serious. “Do you love my brother?”

You balk at her, “You know I do.”

“Enough to save his life?”

“Yes.”

“Even if it costs you your own?” 

You think of sneaking into Mount Weather, and spying on Pike, and watching a rocket blast into the sky as a death wave comes barreling towards you. Without hesitation, you reply, “Yes.”

“I tried to help him and tell him how to beat Gaia and Indra, but he wouldn't listen. He’s refusing to fight. Despite everything he’s done, including poisoning me, I don’t want him to die. If you fight and take out Indra and Gaia, you’ll save his life.”

“And what about me? You asked if I'd give my life up to save him.”

She sighs, looking upset, her voice quieter. “I can't save you both. Wonkru needs to be scared, or they won't march. Normally when someone refuses to fight, I step in for an execution. Stage a protest alongside Bellamy, and when I come down, attack me. I’ll make your death quick, painless, and Bellamy will survive because of your sacrifice. The people want a show, and you can give them one.”

You think of Clarke and Madi, safe, together, probably in the valley by now. With your mom, and Kane, and your friends. All in some sort of danger, but a danger that will end as soon as the war is won. Bellamy, however, is in a different kind of danger, more immediate, more absolute, because there can only be one victor. Most of your family is safe, except for him. Bellamy needs you, and you have never abandoned him before. You aren't about to start now. You nod, letting Octavia know you’re open to the idea and she mutters, “Good. Indra has a weakness, her shoulder never fully healed from the bullet Pike put in her. If you and Bellamy can get the swords, you can make her wield the hammer. It’s too heavy to use with one arm. Gaia will go for the staff, but knowing Indra, she’ll make sure her daughter is out of the way first before she turns to attack either of you. Once you take care of Indra, then you can worry about Gaia. After that, it’s just you and Bellamy. Make your protest, and I'll execute you.”

She holds out her arm to you, the Grounder way, the warrior way. “Do we have a deal?”

But before you take it, you look her in her eyes, tip up your jaw, and square your shoulders. “I will only save Bellamy if you swear Madi and Clarke will be okay. You will not harm them, and you will give them your protection.”

You see Octavia’s jaw clench, hating the idea, but you know you have her backed into a corner. This is the only way she can save her brother, through your sacrifice, and she won’t risk that. “Fine.”

You sag with relief and clasp your arm onto hers, sealing your deal. As she releases you, she motions towards the door. “I’ll allow you to see him one last time before the arena. Say your goodbyes, but say them quickly.”

You smile at her, genuinely happy she’s offering you this chance. “Thank you, Octavia.”

She nods and heads towards the door, informing the guard of the plans. He motions for you to follow him down the dark hallway, towards another room a few doors down. Before he unlocks the door, he glances at you. “You have three minutes.”

“Okay.”

As soon as he sees that you understand, he unlocks the door and swings it open, and you scurry inside quickly, not wanting to waste time. He hammers the point home when he grunts, “Three minutes, that’s it.”

Bellamy is sitting on the bench, his hands clasped in front of him, head bowed, but he looks up when he hears the commotion by the door. When he sees you, he whispers your name, shocked and confused, and you quickly close the space between the two of you. You drop to your knees in front of him, grabbing his face in your hands and forcing him to stop talking and look at you. “Bell, listen, we don’t have a lot of time.”

His eyes lock on yours, and once you have his full attention, you continue, “Clarke and Madi are safe and together, my mom has Kane, our friends have each other. All of the people I love are safe and accounted for, except for you. I can't have that.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but you shake your head, not quite done. “Octavia told me you won't fight, which is why I’m going to fight for you. She told me how to take out Gaia and Indra, leaving just the two of us.”

“I won’t kill you.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes as you realize you’re having this conversation, probably your last conversation, and it’s all about death. Your death. “I’m not asking you to. Octavia has a plan, one that will get her into the ring with the two of us. All you need to know, is that she’ll take care of it so that you don’t have to.”

You see tears well up in his eyes as he realizes what you're saying. That you’re going to die, whether he participates or not, and his sister will make sure of it. “I won't watch you die in that arena either. I already lost you once, I won't lose you again.”

His words hit you in the chest, tearing your heart wide open. You thumb away the tears that fall down his cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “You have to, Bellamy. One of us has to die, and it should be me. This is the last thing I have to do before the end, just let me do it. Let me save you.”

He starts to protest, but he’s cut off by the guard opening the door. “Time’s up!”

You see panic flash in Bellamy’s eyes, and his hands quickly lift to your face and pull you forward, crashing his lips to yours. You feel your tears mix with his as they run down your face, and you savor the last kiss you’ll ever get from the man you love. It says everything that’s been left unsaid, everything you need to know before you die. Bellamy Blake still loves you, and he doesn't want to lose you. And right now, on the brink of your death, that’s enough to get you through. That’s enough to make you fight.

The guard pulls you back and to your feet roughly, grunting out, “I said time is up.”

Each word feels like a punch to your heart, but there is nothing else you can do now. You allow the guard to take you from the room and lead you down the hall, just outside the door to the atrium. Gaia and Indra are already there, talking quietly, but they stop as soon as they hear you approach. You glance over at them, and they look at you, all of you sharing one collective thought: in a few minutes, at least one of you will be dead. If you play your part right, all three of you will be.

The gate behind you squeaks open and Bellamy is led up to your group. He looks distressed, now trying to figure out a way to save you both, and he whispers loud enough for all of you to hear, “What if none of us fight?”

“It's been tried. You get executed.”

“Good, means she'll have to do it herself. We can overpower her, all four of us.”

Indra turns to look at him like he’s crazy. “With hundreds of her supporters in that room? Guns in their hands? We’ll be dead before we can even lift a finger towards her.”

And before any of you can say anything else, the guard near the door calls out, “Line up!”

You all fall into line, Gaia in the lead, followed by Indra, then you, with Bellamy at the rear. As soon as you’re ready, the door is beeped open and you all file inside, taking your place inside the arena. You hear the gate close behind you and lock, and fear constricts your stomach until you remind yourself what you’re fighting for. Clarke and Madi’s safety. Bellamy’s survival.

You scan the fence, clocking the location of the weapons. The staff is near Gaia, the swords are on the side near you and Bellamy, making your retrieval much easier. The hammer is up ahead. Good. If you can scoot around Bellamy, you can make a mad dash for the swords and make it before everyone else. You are eventually pulled out of your head when Octavia stands from her throne at the top, and when you lift your gaze to her, you can see blood streaked onto her face, her expression hard. “We gather here today to remind ourselves what happens to the enemies of Wonkru. It doesn't matter who you are. If you choose sides against us, if you divide us, if you defy us, then you are not us.”

“Before we give these traitors a second chance to be called…” She trails off and glances around at those gathered before her, her eyes moving down the line, starting with Bellamy. “Brother, sister, or Seda, we pay tribute to those who have died so that we might live.”

She dips her head and closes her eyes. “Omon gon oson.” 

The room repeats the prayer and then she lifts her head again, gaze locking on yours. You feel the muscle in your legs tense, an early warning things are about to start, and then she mutters, “Be the last.”

As soon as she says the words, everything else melts away. You no longer see or hear the people watching you, and your thoughts are focused only on one thing: survive until it’s time to die. You take off running towards the swords, past Bellamy who stays frozen in place. You can hear Gaia and Indra fighting behind you, but you ignore it, grabbing both swords off the wall so the others can't get them. When you turn around, Bellamy is still frozen, and Gaia is knocked out in the corner, just like Octavia predicted. You and Indra lock eyes, not wanting to kill each other, but aware that both of you are fighting to save someone else, and you run towards each other, letting out loud cries of anger as you do. 

You swing one of the swords towards her and she knocks it out of your hand easily, getting you down to one. You toss the sword from your left hand to your right as you circle her, before she lunges again, fueled by aggression. This time your sword clangs against her staff, stopped in its tracks, and she spins in place to attack you from the other side. You spin at the same time, blocking her blow again, drawing on every bit of training you’ve received over the years from your various sources. You and Indra match blow for blow for a few beats before she catches you off guard and slices your left shoulder, just below your mostly healed gunshot wound. You are so deep in survivor mode that you don’t even register the pain before you spin and slice her in the abdomen. 

The pain makes her even more aggressive, reminding her that Gaia’s life is at stake, and she uses the wood handle to spin the staff towards you and hit you across the face. The force of the blow sends you flying to the ground, and you bite back a groan of pain, spitting blood from your mouth as you try to ignore the sting of the hit. You hear someone in the crowd call your name, warning you to watch out, and you turn just in time to see Indra bringing the staff down towards you, inches from stabbing you in the chest. You don't have enough time to raise your sword so you roll away, out of the weapons path, turning to see her preparing to attack once more. Instead, as her staff swings towards you, it is stopped in its place by a sword. You follow the sword up to the arm and then to the face of the person holding it, meeting Bellamy’s eyes as he looks at you with worry. 

And then Indra begins her attack on him, both of them matching blow for blow before Bellamy cuts her arm, and she retaliates by cutting his shoulder, the same arm and the same place she cut you. You scramble to your feet and run over to the fighting pair, and you and Bellamy begin a two front assault on Indra, who works hard not to be easily overpowered by you both. Somehow she manages to cut Bellamy in the calf, and as you look at him in worry, she uses the distraction to kick you in the stomach, knocking you onto your back. You cough, all the air pushed out of your lungs forcefully, and you hear Bellamy and Indra fighting again before she knocks him on the ground too. You scramble towards her and grab her leg, tugging hard to knock her off balance, and she falls to the ground with a cry of pain. 

She turns and punches you in the face, and pain explodes behind your eye as stars dance in your vision. Gaia, who has finally woken up, runs over to her mother. You think she’s going to comfort her or attack you, but you’re surprised when she grabs the spear from her mother’s hand and steps away. She grunts out, “Keryon kom Heda: shoun ai meika op.”

Spirit of the Commanders: guide my hand. You have a split second to figure out what’s happening before she turns and aims her spear at Octavia. Everything after that happens in slow motion. You see realization pass over Bellamy’s face, and he jumps up as Gaia starts to throw the spear. He leaps at her and knocks her to the ground, but the weapon is already free of her fingers, flying towards Octavia. It lodges itself into the chair, inches from her head. 

Everyone in the room freezes and turns to look at the Red Queen, curious to see what she’s going to do. You rise to your feet, along with Bellamy, Gaia, and Indra, all 4 of you waiting for what’s next. She surprises you by throwing the spear back into the arena, where it clatters near your feet, and she snaps, “I said, be the last.”

All 4 of you stare at each other for a long second before scrambling towards weapons. You and Bellamy grab the swords, Gaia grabs the spear, and Indra pries the hammer off the wall, holding it with both hands. You all turn and face each other, crouched and ready to attack, when the door that leads to the rest of the bunker is pried open, and someone yells out, “Stop!”

You turn and see Monty stepping into the arena, carrying something covered in his hands, Harper on his heels. Bellamy yells, “Monty, get out of here!”

Octavia yells, “Guards, take him away!”

Harper turns and shoves a scrap of metal into the handle of the door, blocking anyone else from coming in, as Monty starts to talk to everyone gathered in the arena. “Octavia told you we have to march, that we have to fight for the one place left where we can survive, but she knows that's not true.” 

Octavia, sounding scared, yells down at him, “Monty, you do not belong in here!”

Monty ignores her and continues, tugging the blanket off the object in his arms, revealing a plant with multiple blooms on it. “The hydrofarm is working again! Soon, it'll be processing enough food to feed all of us here. Using the same techniques, we can grow crops in the wasteland. Ask Octavia, she's seen it with her own eyes.”

The room starts to mutter, growing restless and angry, and Monty directs his last sentence to Octavia. “Go to war if you want to, but at least tell them that they have a choice.”

Brell asks Octavia, “Is this true?”

But you can barely focus on anything going on around you, in disbelief that you are seemingly being saved by a vase of blooms now held up in Monty’s hands. Octavia stands in front of her throne, glaring down at Monty, when suddenly someone in the crowd yells, “Nou Blodreina nowe!”

Blodreina no more! There is a moment of hesitation before the crowd steadily starts to gather steam, yelling the chant over and over, encouraging a coup against their queen. The people start to tear away the gates around the arena, jumping down onto the floor with the rest of you, and you move your gaze from them to Octavia. You can see Miller saying something to her, pointing his gun at the rioting people, until Octavia puts her hand on his gun, lowering it, before she starts to walk away, towards the office. 

You and Bellamy share looks of disbelief, laughing, shocked that you’re both alive, before you turn your praise and attention to the man that saved you. You pull Monty into a hug, laughing, “Monty Green, you saved us! I could kiss you!”

He looks embarrassed to hear you say it, but you never get to hear his reaction because you are spun around by someone’s hands on your waist. You look up and see Bellamy grinning down at you, and he jokes, “How about you kiss me instead?”

You smile and retort, “It’d be my pleasure.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, your lips touching, zapping with electricity. Both of you stand in the middle of the arena, surrounded by a coup of protesters, kissing each other, in happy disbelief that you’re both alive. When you pull away, you both have matching goofy grins on your faces, high on love and life. You sense someone coming closer to the two of you, and you look over to meet Indra’s eyes, who extends her arm out to you. “Both of you fought well.”

The compliment makes you glow, meaning a lot coming from the skilled warrior, and you grip her arm in thanks. When you release her, Bellamy does the same, answering, “You, too.”

Your eyes find Gaia, both of you nodding at each other, before you look back to Bellamy, who is now praising Monty. “You did it.”

Monty, however, has his gaze firmly locked on the chair that was once occupied by Octavia, and his voice is worried when he questions, “Where'd she go?”

You nod towards the office door, “I saw her walking over there.”

Bellamy looks worried and starts to head that way, and all of you follow him, busting into the office and finding it empty. You look around, confused, before you remember the door that your mother brought you and Bellamy to when she went to take care of Jaha. You run over to it and tug on it, but it doesn't budge, jammed from the other side. You look over at Bellamy in alarm, and he catches on fast. “We have to find her.”

Monty looks around, not understanding. “Why? She didn't shoot us, right? That's gotta mean something.”

But Indra disagrees, something you take seriously knowing her closeness to Octavia. “It means she lost the battle, not the war. We should split up, but be careful. There are people here that would give their lives to save Blodreina.”

You all nod, about to do just that, when a sharp, piercing alarm starts to ring out in the room, echoing through the rest of the bunker. You all look around in confusion and Harper yells over the noise, “What's that?”

Gaia’s voice is one of quiet realization. “The fire alarm.”

You all look at each other with dread, and Monty says the one thing you’re all collectively thinking, his voice completely horrified. “The hydrofarm.”

He sets his blooms down on the table and heads for the door, Harper right behind him. The rest of you follow, tearing through the bunker as fast as you can, bursting into the room that opens up into the hydrofarm. When you do, you are instantly met with a wave of heat barreling towards you. A bright orange light flickers nearby, and as you all get closer, you can see why. The hydrofarm is up in flames, every last inch of it. Fire consumes every plant, every chance of life any of you had in this bunker, and Octavia stands in front of it, face devoid of any emotion. You all stare at her in horror, and Monty exclaims, “What did you do?”

Indra catches on first, her voice low. “Took away the choice.”

Octavia looks at each of you, looking slightly deranged as she stands silhouetted by the flames of her destruction. “You still have one: stay here and die, or march with me and live.”

And then she takes one last look at all of you and brushes past, leaving you to watch your last chance of peace go up in flames. 

-

All of Wonkru stands gathered outside the walls of the bunker, waiting for Octavia to arrive and give her commands. 

You and Bellamy sit with Harper and Monty, both of them very distraught over the loss of the hydrofarm. You’re finishing up the bandaging of Bellamy’s arena wounds, all of them very shallow, luckily. You checked on your bulletwound earlier, the stitches ready to come out, and Bellamy helped you remove them before bandaging up your new cut. Your shoulder wound isn't bad, not too deep at all, though you can't say the same for the nasty looking black eye already forming around your right eye. You’re thankful your eye isn't swollen shut, impeding your vision, mostly just looking worse than it actually is.

You finish securing Bellamy’s leg bandage and you whisper, “All done.”

“Thank you, natshana.”

You smile at the nickname, unheard to you for so long, before pulling him in for a kiss, only to be interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind you. You pull away from Bellamy and turn towards the sound, Miller now standing in front of you, holding out your knife and holster. “Blodreina wanted you to have this back.”

“Thanks.”

You take the holster from him, securing it to your thigh as Octavia finally exits the bunker, the crowd parting around her. She heads towards a pile of packs, snatching one off the top, before she walks away, already starting her march. Miller walks away from the rest of you and stands up on the cart holding the packs, yelling, “We got rations here for everyone, six days worth. That's enough to make it to the valley. Move out!”

Everyone begins to move, and Bellamy walks over to grab two packs as Indra walks up to you, holding out her arm. You grasp it, and she nods. “A warrior's death awaits.”

You nod, jaw clenched, not enthused at the thought, and she releases you before turning and following Gaia out of Polis. The crowd around you starts to thin, and Bellamy makes his way back over to you, holding a pack out to Harper. “Ready?”

She nods and takes it, before he holds the second one out to Monty. Monty, however, makes no move towards the pack, still devastated by the loss of the hydrofarm and the thought that he has to march to a war he doesn’t want to fight. Bellamy switches the pack to his other hand and offers his hand to Monty instead. “Come on, the rest of our family's waiting.”

Monty looks up at him, their gazes locked, before he finally reaches out and grabs Bellamy's hand. Bellamy pulls him to his feet and hands him the pack, and you turn and grab his pack from the ground beside you. He takes it with a nod of thanks before you finally grab yours, salvaged with a few forgotten things from your tent, and then you turn and follow Bellamy, the two of you the last people marching out of Polis, heading straight into a war, finally going home. 

-

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

[astroninaaa]

clarke griffin sucks here’s why

Hi! I’ve wanted to actually write some anti-Clarke discourse for a while now, specially because I’ve hated her since I first heard her talk to someone else in the show, but I was always hesitant because of blorkes and Clarke stans and all that. Well, I’m doing it anyway.

(DISCLAIMER: all this comes from her depiction in the show. I have no idea how book Clarke is, since I’ve never read the The 100 books. Now buckle up and enjoy my angry and not-that-thought-out rant.) (And I’m putting it under the cut because it is... a lot.)

I know many people started to dislike Clarke after season 3 or whatever, but I believe she has been problematic since the beginning. 

For starters, she put herself in a position of power during season 1, and that’s a fact. People say she “had no choice but to become a leader”, but that’s a lie. Just like Bellamy did, she made the decision to bear leadership: from the moment they arrived, she was already making orders and trying to boss people around. Was she wrong? No, she wasn’t! She wanted to keep herself and others alive, which is a good thing. But she didn’t have to. Btw, if she had never done anything things wouldn’t have change, to be honest, since they did not get to Mount Weather and built their little cute camp around the dropship. I mean, Jasper wouldn’t have been speared and they would have found out about the Grounders a bit later, but I think nothing much would’ve happened. Actually, maybe things with the Grounders would have been easier, considering I firmly believe the theory that the only reason they attacked Jasper in the first place was because he was all happy about finding Mount Weather, the place that had been kidnapping and killing Grounders for a long ass time. 

My point is: I believe Clarke wasn’t actually needed as a leader when they first came down to Earth. I think she was just a spoiled priviledged girl, just like Bellamy said she was, who could not get around to letting go of the power she held. There was no more priviledged and non-priviledged, so she secured her influence by becoming a leader. 

An important statement that people tend to forget: she was just as guilty as Bellamy was for Murphy’s hanging, if not more. She was always talking about justice and whatnot, but when she had the chance to be just, she wasn’t. A knife is not enough evidence to fucking accuse someone of murder — during 1918 and 1919, there was a serial murder going around called “The Axeman of New Orleans”, who used axes he found in people’s houses to kill them (I’m a fan of true crime sorry not sorry). If police went by Clarke’s logic, the dead would’ve been the murderers, which certainly does not make much sense. The least she could’ve done was talking to him separately, conducted a trial or whatever, anything but accusing Murphy of murder before the whole camp. She knew they hated him, and so did Bellamy, and that’s why Bellamy didn’t want her to tell everyone about Wells’ yet. And yes, sure, she was grieving, but grief is still not an excuse for what she did to Murphy, it isn’t. She might have tried to stop the hanging later or whatever, but it was still a direct consequence of her actions and would not have happened at all if she had stopped to think for even a moment. The truth is that Clarke does not comprehend that she can actually be wrong, a fact that repeats itself multiple times throughout the series.

(There are other times she fucks up during season 1, but Murphy’s hanging is what stands out the most to me, so I decided to leave it on that. But don’t worry, I have many other examples!)

I can’t even express how much she pissed me off during season 2. Yes, Mount Weather was a very suspicious place and she was right to be wary, but how could she leave her people and escape? She wanted to get help and all that, but she fucking knew they were bleeding out the Grounders and was definetely aware they would soon try something alike to the 48, and she still left them. She left them alone and clueless to the danger they were in, and she didn’t even know if the Ark had come down alright or if there were other survivors. Mount Weather was lying to them about not finding anyone but she couldn’t be sure of that — everyone could have been fucking dead and she would have left her “people” to die too.

I’m not even gonna talk about Lexa’s betrayal because that wasn’t actually her fault, I admit that. Was she stupid to trust a Grounder? Yes. Should she have considered the fact they tried to kill Raven the first opportunity they got (when Lexa’s cup was poisoned) and the fact that the Grounders did not trust them because of Finn and wrongly Raven? Obviously. Does that make Lexa’s betrayal her fault? No, but she should have seen it coming, tbh.

And, again, she put herself in a position of power where she wasn’t needed. There were actual adults ready to look for a better solution, but she didn’t let them. Of course she didn’t  — how could Princess Griffin let go of her power?

Letting Mount Weather drop the bomb on TonDC was... horrible. It was not the act of a leader and it was not the act of a good person. It was selfish, it was the act of someone who leaves their people to die with the excuse of “looking for help” without even knowing if there is help waiting for them at all. It would have revealed Bellamy’s position, yes, but Bellamy would have preferred that than letting people die like Clarke and Lexa did. THEY LET PEOPLE DIE. Hundreds of people! God, they didn’t save the Grounders and the Skaikru that had come for a DIPLOMATIC AND PACIFIC reunion, but Clarke really thought her deal with Lexa would mean something if a better deal appeared, right? Damn, that was naive.

And then she left her people again by the end of the season, of course. “I bear it so others don’t have to” my ass — Bellamy still went apeshit and Jasper still got depressed and no one actually saw her bearing it, so they bear it too. The only thing girlie did was leave behind responsibility and betray her friends so she didn’t have to face regret for her actions. Meanwhile, people needed her, since she had put herself in a position of power for so long that everyone actually looked up at her, for some unknown reason, since she mainly fucked things up.

I don’t remember season 3 that well, but I know that Bellamy’s rant to her when she came back and was trying to be his friend was absolutely reasonable and true. She fucked off into the woods, represented Skaikru in Polis without them knowing for a while, came back to Arkadia and tried to get some power again, but then no one cared about her. Bellamy was too busy making the wrong decisions because of his emotional pain and sorrow to actually give a shit and they had greater things to solve than filling Clarke’s need to be worshipped.

Also, the whole “blood must not have blood” shit? Funny, real funny. It’s just like Lexa pointed out: “blood must not have blood until it applies to your people”. She is SUCH a hypocrite it pains me. And she did not spare Emerson for “blood must not have blood”, she did it because she knew it would make him suffer more and that came back to bite her in the ass. Karma’s a bitch, I guess. And she tried to make Luna become Commander against her will, which I’m not gonna talk about, but was just really fucked up.

I think my hatred for Clarke peaked during season 4. First, she didn’t want to tell the Grounders the world was about to end again and was apparently okay with letting them burn, until Roan found out and got mad about it. She tried to become Commander, blatantly disrespecting Grounder culture just so she could boss all the people in the world around. “She wanted to help!” “She had no choice!” Yes, sure, she had no choice but lying to everyone and disrespecting a whole nation. She couldn’t, you know, talk about it. Okay. I mean, that’s how Clarke does things, right? Kill and deceive first, give a half-assed apology later. It has been working so far, there’s no reason for her to stop.

Forcing Luna to give them her bone marrow? Very problematic, but “Welcome to Mount Weather” was one of my favorite Raven quotes. Abby was also a fucking bitch for being alright with killing Emori but throwing a tantrum when Clarke finally came to her senses and decided to test Nightblood on herself instead of murdering people who went all the way there to help her, but that’s not what I’m focusing on.

Locking Murphy up while she attempted to kill Emori? Not good. Emori knew from the beginning she would be chosen for testing Nightblood — she is a Grounder, and Clarke’s disregard for Grounders has been made very clear before. (And no, having a Grounder girlfriend in a very unprofessional and non-diplomatic way does not excuse her from discriminating against Grounders.)

And then she took over the bunker, disrespecting Grounder culture once again by betraying the conclave and, well, many people. (I know Echo did it too, but I’m not talking about Echo right now so if someone brings this up I’m gonna riot.) I also think it’s funny how she was always talking about saving everyone and all that shit but was so fucking fast to leave Raven, Octavia, Monty, Harper and Kane to die. You know, the people who were supposed to be her friends and all that. Oh, well.

Then Octavia won. And she still did not open the bunker. Man, opening the bunker would save so many lives, including the life of her oh-so-called best friend’s sister, but she still didn’t do it. Classic Clarke God-complex: she decides who is worth saving, and the Grounders aren’t. Then there’s the whole thing with holding Bellamy at gunpoint and then using “but I didn’t shoot!” as an apology. Bitch, it isn’t about shooting, it is about the fact you looked your supposed best friend straight in the eyes and pointed a gun at him, threatening to kill him if he dared to try and save his sister and many others of certain death.

She sacrificed herself by the end of this season, great. I mean, yeah, that was nice of her. Congrats for doing a good thing for once, I guess, even though she knew she probably wouldn’t be able to get back in time anyway so the least she could do was making sure the others lived. I wish she had actually died then, it would’ve been a great end to her arc (finally saving her friends at the cost of her life after betraying them and leaving them to die repeatedly — damn, I might had even started to like her a bit after that) and I would be able to stand the worshipping of her done at the start of season 5, since she would be, yk, dead. Sadly, that did not happen.

She was a villain during season 5 just like Octavia and I wish she had been depicted that way. She wanted to kill Blodreina (because just overthrowing her wouldn’t do) but she wasn’t okay with letting Madi take the chip. I know these are different things, but see it like that: killing Octavia was a way of taking control of Wonkru at the expense of a life. Madi becoming Commander was a way to take control of Wonkru at the expense of Madi’s childhood. Are any of them good? Not really, but Commander Madi does not envolve killing someone and even has a nice ring to it. Besides, Madi had given consent to taking the chip.

(Another point: Octavia was actually thrown into a position of power, just like everyone claims Clarke was. Octavia was the conclave’s champion and was expected and even obligated to lead, while Clarke simply decided she was more competent than the others and became a self-proclaimed leader. After that, she whined for all seasons about how she didn’t want leadership. Octavia never did that, despite being the one who became a leader unwillingly. Just like Raven put, Octavia and Clarke are the same, but Octavia doesn’t pretend to feel bad for empathy points. Damn, I love Raven.)

She left Bellamy to die in the fighting pit, because now Madi is the one she cares about so fuck everyone else. She gave over Raven and Shaw and let them be tortured for nothing. She betrayed literally everyone and was the one to put McCreary in a position strong enough he had the power to literally destroy Earth. Clarke Griffin was directly responsible for Earth’s end.

And then she said “sorry, I had no choice” and most characters fucking forgave her. I hate the way this series throws Clarke’s half-assed apologies onto us and expect us to accept them. I think it is very annoying, since Clarke would be an awesome villain, but they insist in making her one of the good guys, even with the whole “there’s no good guys” theme, which I wholeheartedly believe to be just a way to justify why Clarke needs to be forgiven again and again and again. It is not much more than bad writing, to be honest.

During season 6 she again becomes a leader without being prompted to. I loved Josephine and I think that the fact Clarke wasn’t actually Clarke was the only reason I didn’t absolutely despised her like I have done for the previous seasons. Again, I would have loved it if she had actually died then. Imagine Josephine becoming a main character for season 7 too? Amazing, brilliant, showstopping, incredible.

And she is not even there for season 7, at least until “The Queen’s Gambit” lol. Guess they finally saw how much of an annoying character she is. The only thing I remember of her is the “I don’t believe in Karma” thing, which was... expected. I mean, someone who has done as much harm as she has can’t believe in Karma anyway or she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, and Clarke’s whole thing is about pretending to be sorry but not actually trying to change, so we can’t have that.

In conclusion, Clarke Griffin fucking sucks. She is a bad person and the way everyone always forgives every bad thing she does is bad writing. The series tries to sell her as one of the characters on the “good” side, but she actively works against it. She is not even a GOOD villain to watch, like Murphy was for many seasons. She is just an annoying character with a God complex who fucks things up, betrays her friends and lets people die again and again and then is forgiven because she is supposed to be an admirable main character. She is selfish and abusive and manipulative and power-hungry and fucking sucks, so please don’t stan her.

And that’s on that! Nice.

(DISCLAIMER PART 2: this blog DOES NOT support Eliza Taylor and Bob Morley, specially after Arryn Zech’s accusations. I know we cannot be sure of anything, but I prefer to side with a potential liar than with a potential abuser.)

#so this was it #bitch went OFF #i got a little carried away #i spent so long on this #i just have a lot on my mind #when talking about clarke griffin and her fuck ups #anti clarke griffin #anti clarke #anti bellarke #i didn't even mention bellarke but i hate it #pro octavia blake #pro raven reyes #anti discourse #a bit of a rant #lol #a lot of a rant #angry rant actually #sorry but not really #anti abby #anti abby griffin #pro john murphy #pro bellamy blake #in a way? #anti clarke discourse

[wootensmith]

Shartan

(full fic fixed on AO3, all chapters in their proper places right now. Will post second new chapter tomorrow)

“Wait, don’t go up yet,” Varric said abruptly. “You do realize what we’ve just done, don’t you?” His voice echoed off the large pillars of stone that ringed the cavern. Cassandra paused halfway up the small slope back into Winterwatch Tower. She squinted back down into the dark at them. “Closed the rift, of course.” “Exactly. And?” Cassandra shook her head. Solas glanced up from the Herald’s hand. The anchor was stabilizing and she didn’t need his assistance as badly as he’d thought she would. “We took away a gift of their Maker,” said the Herald suddenly. “Yeah. Not really sure how they’re going to react to that. Might want to go up there together instead of one at a time,” said Varric. “The whole thing is blasphemous!” cried Cassandra. “What were we supposed to do, leave it to spew demons?” “Relax, Seeker. I’m not saying we were wrong, exactly. Just that— Chantry folk can get a little stabby on occasion.”

“The speaker at the gate seemed to want to be convinced that the rift was not divine,” offered Solas. “Perhaps we could appeal to her better judgment.”

Cassandra sighed and descended back into the large cave. “Maybe if the Herald hadn’t flatly denied that she—” “I told you I was uncomfortable,” said the Herald. Solas was surprised. She hadn’t shown much propensity to stand up to Cassandra to this point. “I agreed to join the Inquisition because we’re all in peril. And because you assured me that you wanted peace, Cassandra.” “I do—” “We know nothing about how the Breach came to be. Or how I survived the Conclave. Lying about it won’t help us find out the answers.” “They want to believe in something. You don’t have to lie. You said it yourself. You do not know how you came to be in the crater. Perhaps you really were sent by Andraste. What harm is there in allowing them to think so if it brings them comfort?” “Because if she did, she didn’t send me with any instructions. I’m lost, Cassandra. As lost as these people are. You can’t let them think I have all the answers. Especially if you value their faith. When I fail—” “If—” interjected Varric. She glanced at him. “If I fail, they’ll be shattered when we need them to be at their strongest. They don’t need another idol to replace the rift we closed. They need to go home. Be with their families. The fighting between the mages and the templars may be at a standstill now, but their villages are in ruins. Hiding here will not replant their crops or heal that boy’s mother.” Solas touched her shoulder to calm her. “What do you want to tell them lethallan?” he asked.

She looked at him, as if just now remembering he was with her. “I— cannot say.” She blushed. He was certain she knew exactly what she wished to tell them, but feared repercussions if she did so. Cassandra took it to mean that she didn’t have any good idea. “Then perhaps we say nothing and allow them to assume what they will?” she tried. The Herald started to shake her head, but Solas intervened. “Vindhru? Eshan tel’dhrua ma.” “I have to try,” she whispered. “To accomplish what, lethallan? You have a choice. If you tell them exactly how it happened, most of them will not believe you. Some will decide you are sent by their Maker anyway. Others will decide that you’ve played a trick. At best, they’ll stay here away from their families until starvation or cold takes them. At worst— they may strike at us. But if you say simply that the rift has closed, and allow them to draw their own conclusions, many will come to the truth on their own. The ones who do not may be— amenable to listening to your suggestions. If you tell them to go home and help their families or to help the refugees outside, some of them will do it out of awe and some will just see that the fear of the rift had driven them mad and what you’ve asked of them makes sense. What is your goal, Herald?” She always flinched when he called her that, just as she’d flinched when he’d called her a hero in Haven. It bothered him. She never so much as blinked when Cassandra or Varric called her “herald”. “Ar tel’vara,” he added.

“It’s not right,” she insisted. “No. It’s shitty,” said Varric. “But so is all the rest of it. Chuckles is right. We aren’t going to be able to talk sense to these people, their families have already tried over and over and they still ended up here. We’ve got to make the best of a bad hand. What’s more important? Whether or not these people believe you’re sent by the Maker or if they live to talk about it?” “But if I can’t close the Breach—” Varric shook his head. “I don’t think it’s going to matter much in that case. If we can’t close the Breach, nobody’s going to be around long enough to have theological arguments. You don’t have to like this— I don’t like this, but we have to tell them something.” She hesitated but then nodded. “All right. If it helps them, then my pride shouldn’t be what stops us.”

When they emerged from the cave several cultists knelt in their path. Solas willed her not to recoil. It seemed once she’d decided, however, that she did not leave herself room for doubt. She didn’t protest when Speaker Anais claimed she was a believer. And when the Speaker asked what the Herald of Andraste would have of the people in the tower, the Herald only gave simple instructions to help the refugees in the valley. He wasn’t the only one startled by the apparent ease she had playing the part. As soon as they cleared the tower, Varric let out a long gust of air, as if he’d been holding his breath. “Remind me never to play Wicked Grace with you, Herald. Your bluffing face is too good,” he said. It won him a laugh. Solas was pleased to hear her again at ease. “I’m afraid my skill doesn’t extend to cards, Varric,” she said, “You’d take whatever I had of worth within the hour.” “Ah, well, consider this a standing invitation, then, if we ever get back to the Singing Maiden before the sky collapses.”

The rest of the day was spent fairly pleasantly, hunting for resources to help feed and clothe the people still stuck in the crossroads, and Solas put the entire incident almost completely out of mind until that evening. The Herald waited until Cassandra had gone to write a report and Varric was playing cards with the scouts. She sat grinding embrium at the large stump the camp was using as an apothecary table. He sat on the other side of the stump studying a tracing of the veilfire rune they’d found, wondering who would have left such a thing in plain sight. “Solas,” she said. He looked up. “You said— you said you saw Shartan, in the Fade.” “Yes, I’ve seen memories of his deeds many times.” “Did he believe Andraste was divine?”

He put the tracing down, suddenly wary. “Alas, even the Fade cannot show all things. I have seen his deeds, but not his heart.” She turned back to the mortar and pestle for a moment. He thought the conversation had ended and began folding up his notes. “From his deeds then,” she asked without looking at him, “what do you think he believed?” It concerned him that she was so insistent on it. “I think,” he said slowly, “I think he believed she was a good strategist. And that throwing in his support was the last best chance his people had to win their freedom. But in the moment— no. I don’t think Shartan believed Andraste was anything more than a mortal woman. It’s highly unlikely she thought of herself as divine either.” She put down the pestle. Cleaned the debris from her hands. “Do you think— did he pretend he believed in more than her martial prowess to gain that freedom?” “Yes, lethallan. Or, at least— he used the belief of others to that end. When he led the charge of elves to her pyre, he knew they would not save her. A hundred against thousands? It was doomed from the start. But Shartan knew that while battles may be won with weapons, wars are won with symbols. If he had let her burn without trying to aid her, he and his people would have been lost to history. There would be no Dales and elves would still be enslaved across Thedas. When she was captured, the struggle could have been utterly lost. But already the common people whispered that Andraste was blessed. Shartan was no fool. His goal was not self-preservation, but the preservation of his people. That charge was his last attempt to give them what he otherwise could not. He used her martyrdom— and his, to save the People.” “Did he? If he used the belief in Andraste to give us the Dales, then at the same time he must have given over the rest of Thedas to worship of her. That— falsehood might be why the Chantry exists. And this war.”

Solas leaned forward, surprised. “And if he’d stood on the pyre and loudly proclaimed his faith in Elvhen gods? Do you think that would have stopped the Andrastians?” “No,” she admitted. “But if he’d lived instead— maybe she wouldn’t be seen as a martyr. Maybe it would have been little more than a cult like the people we helped today. Maybe he would have found another way.” “Maybe. But his goal was not to create a religion, it was to free the people he loved. Just as yours, I presume, is not to proselytize about Elgar’nan and Mythal, but to close the Breach, correct?” “Of course. But the way I close it should matter. We let them believe Andraste sent me to close the Breach. Afterward, once it’s gone and I remain, what will they believe in then?” Afterward it will not matter, Mouseling, he thought, but did not say so. “Those people were unharmed, lethallan. They will go on with their lives, provided the Breach does not swallow them, and largely forget about us. The few that don’t may tell their grandchildren a fairy story about the Herald of Andraste who healed the sky, but they will be few and far between. They will not even need to suppress a verse about us in the Chant. They will only remember that the Inquisition saved them, not us.” “That is worse,” she said, abruptly lowering her voice to a heated whisper. “I thought you didn’t want all this. That you’d rather go home to your clan—” “Yes, I would.”

“Then how is it worse that they forget about you? If you are forgotten, you’ll be allowed to lead your life as you see fit.” “It’s not my ego, it’s the Chantry.” She covered her ears for just an instant and then let her hands drop to the stump again. “Their god is already so loud. And ours have been… silent for so long. If I do this in Andraste’s name, maybe I’m only repeating Shartan’s charge. Maybe I’m helping them cover the whole world and drive us out. I don’t want to be hunted, Solas.” He touched her fingertips. “Your legacy, like Shartan’s will not be yours to control, lethallan. Despite our best efforts what people will remember is not always what we would wish. The story will get lost, bit by bit. I know. It’s happened to m— many in your situation,” he stumbled over himself, remembering that she did not know, could not know. Even if she knew, she wouldn’t understand, he reminded himself. “You must remember your goal. Do nothing that does not further them. Only time will determine the rest.” She shook her head and pulled her hand back from his. “I cannot promise that. I have a terrible feeling that whoever opened the Breach had the same idea. So many are left to suffer for the goals of people who have power. How can I do that?”

Her disappointment and shock confused him. She would be right, of course, if they could truly see their situation. The world would be a torture chamber if they really knew how stunted they were. Illusion. Play-acting, he told himself. Just a degraded recital of all the denigrations that came before. And yet— what harm is there in making their lives easier? Kinder? Even if it is only for a short time. He’d rest easier, in the end, if he could say he left them with some modicum of peace. “You are the only one with the ability to close the Breach, lethallan. You have power, whether you’d choose to wield it or not. And for us to even approach the people who might be allies, you must allow the stories around you to grow. You could not alter it even if you wished. Focus instead on the good you can do while you have that power. You sent those people back to their families. That is a tangible good, regardless of the tale they tell after. If you wish to help the Dalish, do so. Now. While you can. For nothing can guarantee what will happen afterward. Use the Chantry’s awe and ire to aid them. And the Inquisition. And any other you can.” “Even if it means being dishonest?” “I cannot say. That is for you to decide. What is more important? The task? Or the way you complete it? I do not think they will always align.” She had no answer for that. She bent over the mortar again.

Solas was frustrated with the sudden silence, frustrated by his own inability to say what he meant to her. Frustrated by her lack of understanding, though he knew that was unfair. “Do you think he would have regretted doing it if he could see what he had wrought so many years later?” she asked after a moment. “I think he had more than one reason to lead that charge. It would— complicate his feelings in the matter.” “Would you regret it? Had you been forced to make a similar decision?” “Vin. Bellanaris.” She looked at him, surprised at the sudden emotion in his voice. He looked away. “But even knowing that, I would do it anyway,” he added. “After all, what is one man’s guilt compared to his people’s freedom, limited though it ended up being?” He shook his head and gave her an uneasy smile. “But come, you need not take Shartan’s path. We need only convince the mages in Redcliffe to aid us and the Breach will close. There is no call for such somber talk. You’ll soon be on the road back to your clan, a hero.” The doubt in her face was plain to see. It sent a deep ripple of doubt through his mind, but Varric interrupted before they could speak longer and Solas tried to push the entire conversation from his memory.

#solas #lavellan #dragon age inquisition #solas x lavellan

[elfrootaddict]

HERALD OF ANDRASTE - Chapter 1/4

DESCRIPTION: El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”. SERIES: Halla & Wolf VOLUME: 3

It was only yesterday that Lana woke up to find herself on a large bed, in a warm cabin - instead of lying outside on the cold stone floor of the temple’s ruins.

Confused by her surroundings, Lana abruptly sits up and frightens an unexpected young elven woman who immediately drops her supply box as she falls to her knees, plants her hands on the floor and exclaims, “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.”

Lana’s heart leapt when she saw a fellow elf kneel before her, “Creators lethallan, what are you doing?”

The elf only bowed lower as her forehead almost touched the floor, “You are back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand,” 

Lana looked down at her hand and noticed the magic subduedly illuminating underneath her skin. It felt suppressed and dormant.

“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

“Three days?!” shrieked Lana as she looked up from her hand.

To Lana, it felt as if she had merely fainted for a brief moment. However, instead of a minute or two, it had been days. And instead of waking up at the temple, she was back in Haven, in a cabin, and with an elf claiming to be her humble servant. 

To say Lana was wholly confused would have been the understatement of her lifetime.

Lana stared out the window of the cabin, watching the snow slowly trickle down as she tried to make sense of her rapidly evolving situation. While deep into her thoughts, the elven woman rose to her feet and nervously headed for the door, “...she said, ‘At once’.” and left the cabin in a great hurry.

Desperate for answers, Lana decided to get dressed and find Cassandra. Once changed out of the night dress, someone had put her in, and back into her old, filthy human clothes, Lana opened the door of the cabin and found herself standing in front of a horde of humans. One by one, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared with mouths agape.

As she slowly walked through the crowd of gawkers, she heard many whispering, “The Herald of Andraste! That’s her! That’s the Herald!”

Lana felt she needed to do a few double-takes to make sure she had heard them correctly, and to her astonishment it seemed there was no denying what she had heard. 

The Herald of Andraste? Mythal, ar halani lasa ghilan. I fear I may need it now more than ever before.

After awkwardly walking her way through the crowd and into the Chantry, Lana eventually reached the closed internal door within and immediately overheard people shouting on the other side. One voice she recognized to be Cassandra, and the other belonging to the senior Chantry gentlemen on the bridge days before. 

“Have you gone completely mad?” cried the Chancellor. “She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately and be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”

“I do not believe she is guilty.” Cassandra insisted.

“The elf failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky! For you all know, she intended it this way.”

“I do not believe that.” 

“That is not for you to decide,” demanded the Chancellor. “Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.”

Deciding that was as good of a time as any, Lana opened the door to find Cassandra, the Chancellor and Liliana standing around a large, wooden table. If they were going to be talking about her, she might as well be part of it. She was not going to allow these humans decide her fate. That’s what Lhoris would have done. 

“Chain her!” cried the Chancellor to the two Templars situated on either side of the door. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital, for trial.”

“Disregard that,” Cassandra ordered. “And leave us.”

And, so they did.

Lana stood awkwardly as Cassandra and Lilliana fought with the Chancellor over who had authority to do what. It was a dual, where their weapons of choice were their words. Each sentence cutting their opponent down precisely where they knew it would cause the most pain.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, a loud bang filled the room and Lana noticed Cassandra pointing to a thick, ancient book on the wooden table between them.

“You know what this is, Chancellor. A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act,” Cassandra paused as she looked about the room. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn,” and walked towards the Chancellor threateningly. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.”

Cassandra, having clearly won their verbal-duel, left the Chancellor with no other option but for him to leave the room defeated. Although she had been victorious, Cassandra did not look happy about it. 

Liliana turned to Lana and explained, “This is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos,” and then sighed with a heavy heart. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now... no Chantry support.”

As a Dalish elf, Lana's knowledge was understandably focused on elvhen culture, history, and magic. Up until recently, she never had any reason to know about human history. However, considering the situation, this had needed to be rectified. 

Lana was pleasantly surprised to find that, despite her numerous questions, Cassandra and Liliana seemed more than happy to divulge their understanding of the ancient writ and answer all of Lana’s immediate questions as best they could.  

“The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine, and then it will wait for her direction.” advised Liliana.

“But we cannot wait,” insisted Cassandra. “So many grand clerics died at the Conclave,” looking fiercely towards Lana. “No, we are on our own. Perhaps forever.” and then Cassandra turned her glare from Lana’s eyes to the dormant magical mark on her hand.

With her hand extended, like equals, Cassandra regarded Lana as she asked a heavy question with ease, “Help us fix this Mistress Lavellan, before it’s too late.”

The moment had demanded an immediate response, and with no time given to mull-over the decision or to find some way to escape this madness, Lana looked down at the Seeker’s hand and took a deep breath as she stepped forward, and shook Cassandra’s hand in agreement. 

Cassandra and Liliana then excused themselves so that they could inform the others, which meant leaving Lana alone in the room.

Immediately, Lana regretted her decision.

What. The. Fuck. Have. You. Done?!

When Cassandra asked her to help seal the Breach days before, Lana naively assumed her responsibility would end then and there. 

But now, Lana had agreed to become apart of this human ‘Inquisition’. 

You fool! Why are you like this? You should be heading back home so the Keeper can find a way to remove this damn magic from your hand! Not keep helping these shems!

Lana then looked down at her hand as her heart thrashed around inside her chest, and fear roared in her eyes.

As each moment passed with Lana staring into her palm, she slowly realised the full weight of her responsibility and the true reality of the situation. Her responsibility and role in this mess was far too great to ignore, no matter how hard she willed it away. No matter how nauseous her decision made her feel. No matter how harshly she scolded herself for the decision she made just now. 

This Breach threatens not just these shems, but the whole of Thedas… which includes everyone back home. The Keeper. Tamara. Lhoris. Everyone. 

And with this mark…

This mark is the only thing that is able to seal these tears in the Veil. So what choice do I really have? If I run, what does that say about me? Could I honestly leave knowing I’m the only one capable of sealing these tears? What would the Keeper say? 

Lana closed her eyes, took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and walked out the room closing the door behind her. 

She would tell me to stay. She would tell me to take this as an opportunity to mend the bridge between the shems and the elvhen. Show the shems that the Dalish are capable of helping others beyond our kin. 

As Lana slowly walked through the Chantry, she began admiring the peacefulness within. The Chantry sisters praying quietly in front of the dimly lit candles, the hushed ambiance, and the small trickle of sunlight creeping through the windows above its great doors. 

She would tell me that I can do this. That I have the fire of mamae and the caution of papae. That if I’ve made it this far, then I can do what comes next. Helping these shems is the right thing to do.

Once Lana exited the Chantry, she found herself once again in front of a crowd of on-lookers. However, this time Cassandra, Liliana, Josephine Montilyet and Commander Cullen immediately turned and gestured for her to join them in formation as they officially announced the rebirth of the Inquisition. 

Okay, Keeper. Then that is what I’ll do. For you and for the People. I will help fix this mess. For I am a proud, Dalish, elf. Arlathvhen, Mythal ar lasa ghilan.

Elvish to English Translation: 

“Mythal, ar halani lasa ghilan” = Mythal, help me and guide me

“Arlathvhen, Mythal ar lasa ghilan” = For the love of the People, Mythal guide me.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

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Halla & Wolf Series

#ElfrootAddict's Halla & Wolf Series #ElfrootAddict's Herald of Andraste #ElfrootAddict's El'lana Aemma Lavellan #Cassandra Pentaghast #liliana #fanfic #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #Dalish #herald of andraste

[eclectic-aussie]

Things I Want in the Final Season of the 100 That Wont Happen

Well the roller-coaster that is the 100 is coming into its final season which leaves me very sad that one of favourite shows in ending, but also curious about the things that will be wrapped up and the things that will be glossed over now that it’s coming to an end. Then I thought to myself; ‘What things do I really want to see before it ends and how likely are they to happen?’ So, here are just a few to start off with, with probably more to be written about later as the promo stuff comes out probably in 2020:

 1.The most obvious thing I WANT: Bellarke to happen and be endgame. Shocked? Why, it’s obvious I’m a Bellarke shipper, what are you nuts?! Yes, I really hope that they have Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin to finally be able to be together after the 131 years its been teased. I cannot tell you how much I love these two, so I wont go into everything, but if they just built up these two and their relationship and support and love for each other just to slap them with a ‘Platonic’ label in the end…there will be no end to how pissed I will be for their waste of one of my favourite tv/movie couples ever. If the show doesn’t end with Bellamy, Clarke and Madi as a family with Bellarke being co-leaders as voted by Wonkru (if possibly not Spacekru) and possibly also having a few little Griffin-Blake bubs to be acknowledged ala the end of the original Charmed, then they have done a huge disservice to their fan-base and I probably wont trust anything they (a certain someone in particular) again since they’ve teased and recanted so many times, it’s just ridiculous at this point.

 2.I want Wonkru to vote for their new leader, and I want that leader to be Clarke. They revered Wanheda for taking down the Mountain when their own Heda made deals with the monsters who used her people as disposable blood bags for 40ish years. Clarke went into the City of Light and shut it down, finding out about the 2nd end of the world in the process which is the only reason any of them survived it. SHE survived Praimfaya and even managed to find Madi, the last Nightblood, and raised her on her own. She may have betrayed Bellamy and took Madi to the Valley and sided with McCreary (which to be fair was her only option other than DEATH at the time) but she was also the only reason Raven didn’t bomb Wonkru and Spacekru to save herself and Shaw and overthrew and killed McCreary. Add to that now that Clarke survived a procedure no-one else had in 250+ years, she fought against an immortal ‘God’ and won back control over her own body, fooled the other ‘Gods’ into thinking she was one of them, stopped them from wiping the minds of everyone still in Cryo, helped Madi take control from Sheidheda and got rid of the mind-wiping serum and about half of the Primes in the process and…I’m going to say Wanheda had probably never looked so fierce and badass before and that’s saying something.

Grounders respect strength, but I think they (Indra and Gaia especially) also realise that it’s not just strength they’ll need on the new world, it’s compassion and Clarke has consistently had that in spades. Don’t agree? Then rewatch the series and note down the people who have betrayed/mistreated/more or less spat in Clarke’s face that she’s not only forgiven but also usually turned into allies, I’ll wait. Hold on, no I wont it would take too long. Anyway, even when her own people use her as their verbal punching bag (repeatedly. Looking at you Raven) she rarely retaliated or lashed out back, usually just getting a pained look before shrugging it off and moving forward. I want Wonkru to want Clarke as their leader…and I want her to say no at first. I want her to have to be talked into it, not because she doesn’t want to help etc but because at this point she’s just bloody tried and grieving and probably just wants to take a breath! Add to that she probably doesn’t think she’s the kind of leader they want/need when not in war. I want Indra, Gaia and Miller to include her in meeting about what to do next, to ask and value her input/suggestions while giving their own. I want them to be sneaky, and kind of ease her into the position when she’s just thinking their having a general discussion. I want Clarke to try and push Bellamy as their leader, and end up having them be co-leaders because of course they are. Add to that, I don’t want Spacekru to be a part of these discussions at first, maybe only being treated like workers instead of key decision makers.

 3.Tied to the above, I want Spacekru to have the rug pulled out from under them. Now don’t get me wrong, as a whole I really like most of the members of Spacekru, but their continued “we’re better than everyone else” schtick grated my nerves all season 6. Their actions in season 5 are just as responsible for McCreary destroying the Earth as anyone else’s, they were the ones to put him in charge in the first place for crying out loud!, but they don’t hold themselves at all accountable, instead heaping all the blame on the easy target: Clarke. Was Clarke blameless for what happened in season 5? Hell no! But Spacekru acting like they had no part in it and using Clarke as their verbal punching bag (again) for a good chunk of season 6 was bull. Add to that, that 5 out of 8 of them have tried to kill Clarke in the last 3 weeks (ok, Emori would have been counted as a half but she did kind of applaud Murphy helping Clarke’s murderers as ‘the survivors move’ and only told Bellamy about Clarke being alive because of her loyalty to him/Spacekru not because she actually cared about Clarke really so…yep. Oh and since Raven watching and doing nothing to stop Echo kill Clarke would make her an accessory in most legal systems I’m counting her just as culpable and guilty of Echo almost killing Clarke) them being aghast at the Primes for doing the same is pretty funny (except Bellamy, poor lamb).

So, yes, now that Wonkru (especially Indra, our droll queen of not taking any bullshit!) is in Sanctum too I kind of want Spacekru to puff themselves up, thinking they’re awesome for ‘handling’ the Prime problem and then…I don’t know, be put on trial for their actions against Wanheda and Madi? Before the ranting and raving begins, just hear me out (and take note that I’m already writing a fanfic where this happens): say what you want about Wonkru and the Grounders, they’ve always had a hell of a lot more gratitude and respect for Clarke/Wanheda than her own people have, as stated in point 2. Add to that, that Gaia and Miller witnessed for themselves that Spacekru’s actions largely made the situation worse, again, and Murphy and Raven telling Russell about the bone-marrow solution to save themselves from being burned alive (thanks, Echo), putting Madi in a huge amount of danger in the process. I want the prisoners to kind of get in on it too, a bit. I want them to tell Wonkru about Spacekru’s actions in the Valley and how they pretty much tripped ass backwards into putting McCreary in charge and undermining everything Bellamy and Clarke were trying to do to bring about a truce at the time. I also want (and this is going to set SO MANY people off!!) the prisoners to tell Indra about what they overheard on the radio on the night before the world burned. I want them to tell Indra and the others about how close Clarke came to being murdered to ‘avenge Bellamy’ and that it was Madi that stopped Echo from killing Clarke, while Raven and Shaw stood back and did nothing. I want it to come out that even after Echo tried to kill her, Clarke protected her from McCreary killing her, TWICE, for the man Echo would have killed her to avenge even though Clarke though he was dead. I want all this information to come out at ‘trial’, maybe even have a recording of the radio in Clarke’s pocket as proof and Emori, Murphy and Bellamy to find out right before they’re led away to wait for deliberation. I want Bellamy to fight between using his heart and his head as his view of his family is rocked with the new information as he puzzles out which version of them was on the Ring: who they were or who they needed to be to survive, and whether he could trust them off the Ring. Dun Dun DUNNN!!

 4.I want Becho to break-up (obviously, see point 1) but I want it to come after a few things are revealed. Look, as a character I don’t have anything against Echo on the whole but she is a character where we’re told one thing: that she’s changed on the Ring and is a ‘good guy’ now, and (in my opinion) we’re shown another: she still betrays her allies to further her own goals (turning in Shaw against Raven’s wishes, baiting and belittling, and eventually killing, Ryder), still goes behind her leaders back and goes too far to try and get them what they want by means they’d never agree to (going undercover in the Conclave to cheat which got her banished by Roan, trying to kill Clarke in front of Madi to ‘avenge’ Bellamy). I mean she herself pretty much said that she hasn’t changed when she stabbed and killed an unarmed, outnumbered Ryker while stating “Hesitation is death.” Which was Nia’s creed which Echo is seen once again embracing. The only time she even attempts to be ‘the good guy’ is in front of Bellamy, and even then her first response is usually ‘we need to fight our way out’ to pretty much every situation. I know a lot of people say that they think that Echo will realise Bellamy is still in love with Clarke and graciously step aside, but honestly that seems a bit out of character. Echo has pined for Bellamy since before Praimfaya and when you factor in her possibly feeling like her place in their family being threatened if she’s no longer Bellamy’s girlfriend I can’t really see Echo giving up without a fight. I want Bellamy to really try and figure out who and what he wants and fight for it, but still let Echo down easy and reassuring her that she’s still family. And then a little bit of time to let things settle and mourn what they had even if it ends somewhat amicably (Spacekru will probably be pissed).

 5.Now onto something lighter: I want more Bellamy and Madi bonding! Let’s be honest here, Bellamy has been a papa-bear since season 1 (which was why it really threw me when he was so ready and willing to turn Madi into a child soldier with the Flame, but moving on) and I really want to see Bellamy and Madi to spend time together; Madi telling Bellamy stories about her and Clarke’s time in the Valley and wanting to hear Bellamy’s stories about his and Clarke’s time together before Praimfaya. I want Madi to tell Bellamy that he and Octavia were routinely the heroes of Clarke’s stories and for him to be shocked (and a little saddened) that Clarke didn’t see herself as a hero. I want Madi to be kind of enamoured with him, since he was pretty much the only one (besides Monty and Harper) who lived up to the stories Clarke told her growing up and because he risked everything to save Clarke. I want Bellamy to kind of embrace his unofficial role as father-figure, telling her stories of mythology and history, spending time with her while her bone-marrow grows back and she’s in isolation. Controversial: (like this whole thing isn’t that already) I want there to be a point where it gets to be too much and Madi loses it. Where her almost losing Clarke, and fighting Sheidheda in her head and being tied down and having her bone marrow take without her consent to catch-up with her and she just breaks down and sobs her heart out. And I don’t want Clarke to be there to comfort her. I want Bellamy to be there and help her through it; telling her it’s ok to still feel the pain of the almost loss and that it’s ok to not always be strong for Clarke’s sake so she doesn’t worry. I want Bellamy and Madi to sit together as they grieve the horrible almost that would have taken Clarke from them. Oh, and I want her to teach him to spear fish.

 6. Now this, I know is DEFINITELY not going to happen: I want Murphy and Raven to have to earn Clarke’s forgiveness/friendship. Say what you will about Clarke’s actions in season 5, both Murphy and Raven would be dead dozens of times over throughout the series if it wasn’t for Clarke. Hell, Bellamy almost killed Murphy at least 3 times at the Dropship in season 1 and was only stopped by Clarke’s intervention. Like I said, say what you will but Murphy actively helped Josephine to not only try to stop Spacekru/Wonkru (though mainly Bellamy, lets be honest) from retaliating for Clarke’s murder by the Primes, he would have helped Josephine erase Clarke from her own damn head if Emori hadn’t gone behind his back and told Bellamy about it. And Raven? Raven stood back and did nothing to stop Echo from trying to kill her in front of Madi, because she thought she was justified and then played the victim when Clarke had an actual plan and didn’t just lay down and die like they planned. She told Clarke the only difference between her and Blodreigna was Blodreigna didn’t pretend to feel bad about the things she’d done. Raven and Murphy were the main ones (but not the only ones) who more or less called Clarke a monster and treated her like she was nothing. They were the ones who told Russell about the Nighblood solution being made from bone-marrow (even after Raven watched Kane kill himself, taking the safer-to-make Nightblood solution with him so the Primes couldn’t create more Nightbloods) and Raven talked Abby into taking the marrow from Madi. In general we got a lot of Clarke bashing from Murphy and Raven this past season and even though I KNOW they’ll just have Clarke overlook them mistreating her because that’s what she does, I really wish that they’d have Murphy and Raven show some self-awareness and pull their heads out of their arses and actually make an effort towards Clarke for once, instead of only showing any care, friendship or compassion towards her when they need her to make another impossible decision, if then.

 7.Fluff alert: I want Bellamy to be a bit nervous about Clarke finding out about the deal he made with the Primes. I want him to tear himself up a bit with the guilt of not telling her, maybe made worse by Murphy ‘teasing’ him about it, before caving and admitting it to Clarke, ashamed that he made a deal with her murderers to overlook her death for resources and help. I want her to grab his hand of some kind of physical contact before she tells him she knew all about it. I want him to be shocked and appalled that she didn’t seem upset and that she should hate him. I want her to smile at him, and tell him she had been upset at first, but could never hate him for that. That she had been proud of him, just like she was after Praimfaya. I want fluffiness, tears and forgiveness!!!

 8.Octavia? Yeah, she’s not dead.

 9.I swear to GOD if they make Jordan another Jasper, there will be riots in the bloody streets, you hear me?! RIOTS!!

 That’s all I can think of from the top of my head but before anyone asks; yes, a few of these are very specific because I’ve already written scenes that cover all of these that I will be incorporating into my season 7 spec fic of ‘things that will probably never happen’ that I’ll put on AO3 and FF.net at some point in the coming months.

If you don’t agree with something I’ve written above, then that’s all well and good and you’re entitled to your opinion as much as I am. However, please refrain from spewing hate into my inbox because…well I honestly don’t care if you agree with me or not. This is simply my OPINION of what I’D like to see, that I’ve stated multiple times that I honestly don’t hold out hope on the whole that any (besides number 1, 8 and 9) will end up happening.

#the 100 #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #madi griffin #bellarke #anti becho #don't like don't read

[himluv]

The Gift

Here’s another Solavellan oneshot, this one set directly after Believer.

The first thing Riallan noticed was the gentle crackle-pop of a fire. The second was pain. All of her ached, and in some places the pain was sharp and searing. She blinked several times, unable to make sense of the dark brown sky above her until she realized it was tent canvas.

“Rest, Herald,” Mother Giselle said. “Do not move too quickly, you are still healing.”

Riallan looked at the Revered Mother and relief swept through her. “I made it.”

“Yes. It was quite miraculous.”

She glanced around but saw they were alone in the tent. “Solas, the others. Did they—“

Giselle placed a gentle hand on her arm. “They are fine. I imagine Solas still sleeps.” The woman gave Riallan a knowing look. “He pushed himself far to heal you.”

She tried to remember anything after she fell into the snow. She’d been so certain that she would die there, freeze to death only to be found in the spring thaw. She could faintly recall hands, warm on her icy skin, and voices, but that was it.

“I don’t remember any of it,” she said.

Giselle frowned. “Perhaps that is for the best. There were… harrowing moments.”

Riallan was about to ask what she meant when shouting from the fire interrupted her. Cassandra and the advisors were arguing about their next steps, and apparently agreeing on little.

“They have been at it for hours,” Giselle said. “A luxury they have, thanks to you.” She sighed. “With time to doubt, we turn to blame.”

Riallan felt another sermon coming, and she groaned as she sat up. “If they’re arguing about what we do next, I need to be there.”

“Another heated voice will not help. Not even yours. Perhaps especially yours.” She watched Riallan with reverent eyes. “Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand… and fall. And now we have seen her return.”

“I escaped the avalanche. Barely, perhaps, but I didn’t die.” The words were a growl on her lips. She was not their savior.

“Of course,” she said, though she didn’t sound very sincere. “But the people know what they saw. Or perhaps, what they needed to see. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?”

She’d had enough. She could barely stand, but she would suffer the pain if it meant she didn’t have to suffer another lecture from the Revered Mother. “All of this happened because of fanatics and arguments about the next world,” she snarled, half with fury and half in pain. “It’s time we start believing in this one.”

She hobbled to join the others, to help plan, but the conversation had ended. The advisors stood scattered around the fire, heads down and dejected. Throughout the camp despair hung heavy, suffocating the Inquisition as surely as the blizzard had tried to swallow them. What did they do now? They had no clue where they were, no base of operations, and no hope.

That was when the singing started.

At first Riallan chalked it up to Mother Giselle foisting her beliefs on those gathered, but then Leliana joined in. Then Cullen, and within a few lines the entire camp had joined the hymn. And they were all looking at her.

She didn’t understand. How did they all know the words? Was this some human thing? Some part of the Chant she hadn’t heard? As more of the Inquisition gathered before her, some even bowed or kneeled at her feet. She wanted to pull them up, to scream at them that she was not their chosen one. But she couldn’t. These people needed hope, and for some reason, they’d decided she was the one to give it to them.

So she stood there, every eye on her as they sang, and clenched her fists against the frustration she felt.

Giselle approached her as the song ended. “It is all one world, Herald. It is our place within it that changes.”

She was still parsing out the Revered Mother’s meaning when Solas appeared beside her.

“A word?” He said, and then rushed off to the edges of the camp.

She followed him, ignoring the sharp ache in her ankle as she did, because she needed to see him. She needed to know that he was all right, even though she could see that he was whole and healthy. He walked with his usual easy, tracking gait, his footprints in the snow drawing a straight line. By the time she reached him he’d lit a torch with the pale blue of veilfire, and turned to face her.

He looked worn. His eyes were heavy and his posture, though straight, felt more forced than usual. But he gave her the tiniest smile and the rest of her worries fell away. He was here, they had both survived. It was enough.

He’d been dreading this conversation. For two days Riallan had slept the unnatural, dreamless sleep of healing. Without her to distract him, his dreams were filled with worry and doubt. He had to tell her the truth. He knew that now. Against all his better judgment he’d grown too close to her, too invested in the Inquisition’s success. Besides, she had seen the orb in Corypheus’ hand. It was only a matter of time before Riallan started asking questions about it. Better to head her off and steer that conversation himself.

The decision to tell her the truth was not the difficult part. No, the difficult part was deciding how much truth could suffice, and how to tell it in a way that didn’t encourage her to ask more questions.

She joined him at the veilfire, her eyes roving over him much as his did her. She was pale, her mouth set in a firm line against the pain he knew she must be feeling. She shifted her weight onto her left foot, easing the pressure on her injured one. But she could walk, she could move both arms, and she didn’t wince with every breath she took. It was a marked improvement.

“The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting,” he said. He let the awe he felt permeate his voice. “Their faith is hard won, lethallan. Worthy of pride. Save one detail.” He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the words he was about to say. “The threat Corypheus wields, the orb he carried, it is ours.”

Her brow furrowed, her lips pursed as she prepared to speak. He barreled on.

“Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave.” It was easy to make it sound like conjecture, as if it was simply the logical conclusion and not a fact he was intimately familiar with. “We must find how he survived, and we must prepare for their reaction when they learn the orb was of our people.”

She considered that, absorbing the information and trusting it out of hand. Because it came from him. He hated to take advantage of her trust, but she needed this information.

“All right,” she said. “What is it and how do you know about it?”

The Fade of course, like all of the other impossible things he knew about. He wondered how much longer that particular crutch would support all his lies. But she believed him, for now, and that was good enough.

She scowled and shook her head. “Even if we defeat Corypheus, eventually they’ll find a way to blame elves.”

“I suspect you are correct,” he said. History had proven as much, had it not? “It is unfortunate, but we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies.” What a fragile line he walked, telling her his own methods so that she might rise in the Inquisition’s esteem. In the world’s.

All so that he could wield her with precision and retrieve what he had lost in the first place. What could have been a joyful conversation, full of relief at each of them surviving the impossible odds of the attack on Haven, instead left him full of self-loathing and disgust.

He saw the weight of his words land on her shoulders, saw the exhaustion on her face as she realized that her work with the Inquisition had really only just begun. He hated himself for it.

“Faith in you is shaping this moment,” he said. “But it needs room to grow.” He stepped away from her, turned back toward the camp because he couldn’t bear to witness her resignation any longer. “Scout to the north. Be their guide.”

He hesitated, but only for a moment. It was the only option, and when he really thought about it, he wanted Riallan to have it. If anyone in Thedas could deserve Terasyl’an Tel’as, it was her. Not only was it an important piece of Elvhen history lost to this world, it was important to him. It was safe, safer than they could ever make a more modern keep.

It had been his home, once. Now it would be hers too.

“There is a place that waits for a force to hold it.”

“Solas?” She asked. “What are you saying?”

He kept his back to her as he spoke. “There is a place where the Inquisition can build… grow.” And it was a submission on his part. Even if she would never know it, giving her this gift was akin to admitting all he’d denied these past weeks. He cared not just for the success of the Inquisition, not just for the fate of Thedas and the reclaiming of his orb.

His despair at her apparent death was proof enough. His fear at her injuries as he worked over her for hours left him no room for argument. He cared about her. He would see her safe for as long as he could.

Until the largest threat to her existence was the wolf that lurked too close.

“Come,” he said, and looked over his shoulder at her. “Tell the others I have seen a place in the Fade.” He considered her and frowned. “We should leave as soon as you are able.”

She sensed his shifting mood, moved to stand beside him, her hand on his arm. “Are you sure?”

Of course, she meant was he sure there was such a place. Was he sure of what he’d seen. But her question struck home all the same. Was he sure he wanted to offer this? Was he sure he could go through with it?

“Yes, Riallan,” he said. And for the first time since the destruction of Haven, Solas felt calm. He had made his choice, and for once, he was certain he wouldn’t come to regret it.

#riallan lavellan #solavellan #solas #dai #dragon age inquisition #my writing #slightly canon divergent #but that's what fanfic is for #amiright?

[travllingbunny]

The 100 rewatch: 4x11 The Other Side

Now that I’m finally on my vacation and have the time to write these posts, I need to catch up. I actually rewatched up to 5x04, so now I need to go over 7 episodes so I could continue my rewatch of season 5.

Season 4 is one of my favorite seasons of The 100 mostly because of its last 3 episodes, which are all among my all-time favorites episodes of the show. While I still think that 2x16 is the show’s strongest finale, season 4 has the strongest finish with 3 amazing episodes in a row. It helps that this is both the stage of the season when we’re past the plotlines about Grounder politics and religion – never my favorite part of the show, though it was better done in season 4 than in season 3 – and where the focus was on what made season 4 so good: human drama and conflict between people and within people’s minds and souls, in the face of the end of the world and an enemy that cannot be defeated: climate change in its most extreme version.

One of the three storylines in 4x11 is the tense standoff about who will be in the bunker and survive, which turns the main characters against each other, including Clarke against Bellamy, but where none of the sides are villainous and everyone has good reasons for what they are doing. The show prides itself on grey morality, but it doesn’t always get it right – this is one of the times it does.

But while that storyline is the usual story of people fighting for survival (for themselves, their loved ones, whoever they consider “their people” – since the morally right goal of saving everyone is impossible), the other two plots are about people who have decided that they don’t want to survive, or who are struggling to decide whether they want to live or not.

It’s also the episode remembered for the first death of a main character who was a part of the original cast at the start of season 1 since episode 2x08. It’s one of the saddest deaths on The 100, but also one of those that felt most unavoidable.

“See you on the other side” is one of those repetitive catchphrases on The 100 that has changed its meaning so much over time Jasper said it several times – I remember that he said it in The Pilot, just about to cross the river (just before he got speared and nearly died), in 3x13 just before drinking the potion that Luna’s people gave him and others so they would lose consciousness before they take them to their oil rig – and he tells it to Monty as he is about to die.

This story of PTSD was done much better than whatever the show was doing with Finn. There is a parallel between Jasper and Octavia in how damaged they were after  to the deaths of their first real love, but while Octavia mostly directed her grief outward into violence and, for a while, murder (an with a dash of death wish), Jasper was only verbally aggressive to others – and more so in season 3 than in season 4 – but his psychological state mostly manifested in his loss of a will for survival.

This storyline is very controversial, from the fans who started hating Jasper and calling him annoying – because the show was honest about the fact that depressed people are not always pleasant to be around – to people who were upset that the story didn’t get an uplifting outcome with Jasper overcoming his problems. But it wouldn’t be realistic if everyone in the show overcome their traumas. In reality, some people just break and stay broken. And I think it’s important to show that, too. It doesn’t make the story hopeless and nihilistic, because, at the same time – and in this very episode – we also get stories of people – Harper, Raven - who do manage to overcome trauma and decide to live.

I’m still glad that the show didn’t go with their original idea – Jasper shooting himself in the season 3 finale, right after he wrote his suicide letter. Not just because his death would have been overshadowed by other deaths that season, and because it would’ve made season 3 way too dark, but also because, in a way, his season 4 arc and suicide was less bleak, odd as that may sound. Season 3 Jasper was focused on his pain, anger and despair, while season 4 Jasper was reconciled with the idea he would die, and focused on going out having some fun before his death.

I also think it would be very unrealistic if, in the face of such bleak future – probable death of radiation or years of possibly awful life stuck in a bunker – at least some people wouldn’t make the decision to live out the rest of the days with an end-of-the-world party and go out in their own time, at their own choice and in a more pleasant way, such as overdosing of drug-like tea. And knowing how things turn out in the rest of season 4 – and that most of them would probably be condemned to death of radiation, anyway – and how horrible the life in the bunker ended up being (and that it took the lives of almost 400 out of the 1200 people), I can’t really say that those who stayed behind in Arkadia and committed suicide made a wrong choice, even if it’s not a choice I would make.

Jasper’s death scene, his last moments with Monty, is beautiful and heartbreaking. But I still didn’t cry during that scene in this rewatch, which surprised me. Then I was even more surprised when the tears only came later when Monty found out that Harper was alive and she told him she loved him, which she had tried to deny before, because she wanted Monty to leave her and not risk his life for her. I think it’s because, for tears, you need some kind of catharsis, a relief, and there is nothing like that in Jasper’s death scene. It’s like watching the Buffy episode The Body – similar to dealing with deaths of people close to you in real life, where you’re just frozen and you’re not getting any kind of closure or seeing any kind of meaning. Monty keeps fighting and trying to stop Jasper from killing himself even after it is already too late, or getting angry that he can’t do anything about it anymore. because it’s not in Monty’s nature to give up hope. And that’s why he doesn’t even say “I love you” when Jasper asks him to, until it is too late and Jasper cannot hear it anymore, because to say it would mean to accept his death.

Monty has lost so much at this point – having to kill his mother twice, now losing his best friend who was like a brother to him, that the moment when he thinks that Harper is dead (seeing a dead body of a blonde woman, who turns out to be Bree), and then realizes that Harper is alive was such a big relief both because of Harper and because Monty has managed to save someone he loves, and his arc is not all grief and darkness.

Oh, the times when Raven used to be really a main character and had a great arc about struggling with her pain, disability, and (temporary) loss of mental functions! (I love season 6 and it may end up as my favorite season, but it pretty much made Raven a side character and didn’t do her too many favors.) Though the Raven episode most often compared to 6x07 Nevermind is 3x11 Nevermore (because of the similar title and same writer), Raven’s story in 4x11 actually is more similar to Clarke’s story in 6x07: it’s an internal struggle where she is deciding whether she wants to live, and where she talks to dead characters, who are actually embodiments of parts of her own mind, pulling her in different directions and fighting for her soul. Here they are “Becca”, tempting Raven to die, because a part of her doesn’t believe she can still be the brilliant mind who solves all the problems – and “Sinclair”, who helps Raven find hope and fight to live, and come up with a solution how to heal her brain. She does it by basically “rebooting” herself through temporary “death” – which is similar to how Gabriel brought back Clarke in 6x10. Considering the fact that Sinclair is just a product of Raven’s mind, it’s a bit funny when he tells Raven that she shouldn’t compare herself to Da Vinci and Mozart etc. because she’s better than all of them – but I guess Raven is imagining Sinclair as giving her huge amounts of praise in order to give her faith in herself. He was always the mentor/friend who gave her a chance to work as a mechanic on the Ark and believed in her even when she didn’t believe in herself.

The bunker drama

I wasn’t happy with the way 4x10 put Clarke is a pseudo-antagonist role, by focusing on the Conclave (an incredibly stupid way to resolve the question of survival of the human race) with Octavia as the hero, and making the viewers forget what the situation was when Clarke made her decision. Add to that that she is pitted against Bellamy, and that she is siding with Jaha, and you have all the ingredients for the fandom to see Clarke as a villain. But in fact, her decision made most sense in the circumstances – not only was Octavia realistically unlikely to win, but the most likely outcome was that Luna would win and doom the entire human race to die. But this episode corrects that and explains her reasons – and that they are different from Jaha’s. Once that the news comes that Octavia has won and decided to share the bunker – which was Clarke’s suggestion that all the Grounder leaders ignored in 4x09 – the situation changes completely, and it’s obvious that Clarke, who already didn’t feel good about what she was doing, started having doubts, while Jaha was very sure that what they were doing was right, and insisted that it’s all about saving their people.

Clarke, on the other hand, thinks that Skaikru need to be in the bunker because they are the only ones who can operate machines that ensure such things as air and water in the bunker, so they’re essential for the survival of the human race. Which is true. But sharing the bunker would also solve that. However, at that point, no one is sure if Grounders already know about them stealing the bunker and if they will start killing all of the Skaikru. Bellamy has faith that Octavia can stop it, but not everyone does.

Of course, even if Clarke had good reasons to steal the bunker, the whole thing with kidnapping Bellamy and keeping him there against his will, chained, while he was desperate to save his sister, was another messed up thing to do, and Clarke clearly didn’t feel good about that, either. It’s the understandable why she did it, to save his life, but I’ve never been OK with the “kidnapping/imprisoning you for your own good” thing, whether it was Lexa kidnapping Clarke and keeping her prisoner for a week in Polis, Bellamy handcuffing Clarke to make her prisoner in Arkadia, or Clarke keeping Bellamy chained up.

That said, I’m not sure how certain Clarke was sure that keeping the bunker closed was the right thing to do, either, because when she was explaining her reasons to Niylah, she seemed to really be talking to herself and trying to convince herself, and Niylah was just a sounding board. That relationship always consisted of Niylah being Clarke’s friend who was there to comfort her when she needed some human touch but wasn’t able to turn to anyone she had stronger emotions for – and while they had sex a couple of times in the past, this time Clarke just needed someone to lie beside her and put an arm around her, but when she talked about the reasons, she had her back to Niylah and not even looking at her, but looking somewhere into the distance.

The relationship between Clarke and Jaha is a pretty interesting one, and I wish it had been explored more, but they did do some of it here. He was a close family friend she grew up with, almost an uncle figure, then he became the symbol of everything she hated, the person who executed her father and imprisoned her for a year. Earlier on in season 4, she was still calling him out on what he did to Jake, but then, having to do things like make the list, she started thinking that she was turning into Jaha. In this episode, even though Clarke was the one who came up with the idea to steal the bunker, Jaha was the one who was confident about what they were doing and acted like he was in charge (prompting Bellamy to make the good observation “I don’t remember the election that made you the chancellor again”) convincing the uncertain Clarke that their path was right. It reminded me a bit of the dynamic between Pike and Bellamy in S3.

This whole situation was pretty complicated: on one hand, Clarke was telling herself that she was saving the human race by saving “her people”, but if everything was resolved without bloodshed, sharing the bunker would mean letting more people potentially survive, because the bunker had the capacity of holding 1200 people, while there were just a little over 400 Sky people. So, one could argue that the “big picture” favored opening the bunker ASAP. For Jaha, it was all about “saving our people”. But what does “my people/our people” mean? Everyone defines that according to how they feel. Jaha sees it as the collective of people from the Ark that he feels responsible for – but 1) it’s not like the lives of people from the Ark are inherently more important than the lives of people known as Grounders, and 2) some of those “our people” were not even in the bunker. Kane, Octavia, Raven, Monty would be left to die, among others. On the personal level, who is more “your person” than your lover or child or sibling, or close friend? But Jaha has always had a rather tribalistic vision and cared more as his people as a collective, than the individual people in that group. Kane was the closest thing to a friend Jaha had at this point, but he was OK with leaving him to die. But it was obvious that Bellamy would never agree to leaving Octavia to die, and Abby would never agree to leave Kane. And if Bellamy or Abby were outside the bunker, I’m 100% sure Clarke wouldn’t agree to leave them to die, either. However, after his wife’s and son’s death, Jaha didn’t have anyone he loved so much that he couldn’t sacrifice them. And since he kind of sacrificed his son to the “big picture” – by putting him at risk of death (which kept haunting him), I think that Jaha doubled down on his belief in his messianic role to save the Arker,s and that he had kind of convinced himself everyone else should be able to sacrifice their loved ones to that.

Which is why he didn’t see it coming when Abby stuck a syringe in him and knock him out, to go and help Bellamy go and open the bunker door. I remember that I saw that coming the first time I watched it and even guessed Abby’s reply to Jaha saying that he’s sorry about Kane’s inevitable death: “He was a good man”. – “He still is”. Jaha was also wrong to bring up Jake, because I think that Abby’s guilt over betraying Jake (which led to Jaha executing him – which she did not anticipate) only made her more determined to do differently this time and save Kane and not betray him. Oh, the time when Abby doing things to save Kane was something you could root for and that didn’t cross the line into creepy, misguided and deeply morally wrong!

This is one of the very few times in the show where Abby and Bellamy had significant interactions – even working together. And they managed to fool Murphy.

I love the fact that Bellamy made himself look self-destructive, by injuring himself while chained, only because he had a plan how to get out and open the door.

This is one of the two or three times in seasons 3-4 when Bellamy tells Murphy that he has no idea what it’s like to love someone, and Murphy has to keep explaining that he’s wrong and referencing his love for Emori.

Being focused on the big picture and trying to save the human race, as Clarke was doing throughout season 4, made her have to repress her feelings and almost severed her human connections (e.g. leaving some of her best friends out of the list, stealing the bunker even though some of the were outside and she was leaving them to die). She’s never been more “Head” than in season 4, because she believed she really had to be. But Bellamy was always her one soft spot where her ability to repress emotions for the ‘greater good’ would hit a brick wall. Bellamy (and Octavia, probably because of him) had to be on the list, not because of any objective reasons (which doesn’t mean that Bellamy isn’t very valuable for his leadership qualities, but that wasn’t why she put him there), even when she was leaving out a genius like Monty. We’ll never know if she could have stayed strong if ALIE had tortured/threatened to kill Bellamy (because the show hinted he was her biggest ‘weakness’ but never allowed that to happen), but she did let hundreds of people die in bombing mostly to protect him, she gave up 50 spots for her people to survive, when Roan blackmailed her by threatening to kill Bellamy, which Roan knew would work because threatening to kill Bellamy got Clarke in season 3 to give up fighting and let him take her to what she thought would be her death at Nia’s hands, and now, she was convinced that she was ensuring the survival of human race by not opening the bunker, but she still couldn’t bring herself to shoot him. But even the fact she thought she could do it shows how out of touch with her emotions she was at that point: Girl, I could have told you there’s no way you would be able to.

I’ve always thought – after seeing how the next two episodes of season 4 went (and then the next two seasons confirmed that) – that the moment when Clarke couldn’t shoot Bellamy and ended up crying, was the moment when she finally faced up to how she feels about him, and that she’s been aware of her feelings ever since. (Even if you disagree on that, there is no way you could spend 6 years on her own, radioing him every day, without realizing exactly what you feel.)

In 4x10, Bellamy was worrying that he wasn’t able to tell his sister that he loves her. When Bellamy and Octavia reunite and hug, Bellamy tells her “I love you so much” – which is the first time we’ve ever seen him say “I love you” to someone. To date, Octavia is the only person he’s said it to on-screen.

Octavia exiles Echo – pulling the “I said your people will get to survive, not you” trick, and considering all her experiences with Echo up to that point. I don’t blame her at all. She correctly guesses that Echo won’t tell the other Grounders (other than Indra, who is playing along) that Skaikru stole the bunker, since she will still die anyway. Echo indeed turned out to be more concerned with survival than revenge. 

Timeline: The episode starts two days before Praimfaya, and ends exactly a day before Praimfaya

Body Count: 11 Arkers who killed themselves, including Jasper, Bree, another Delinquent, and Riley.

At least 60 Delinquents have died (4 in season 4), while 40 are still alive. But not for long.

Rating: 10/10

#the 100 #the 100 rewatch #the 100 4x11 #the other side #the 100 season 4 #jasper jordan #raven reyes #monty green #harper mcintyre #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #thelonius jaha #abby griffin #octavia blake #niylah #john murphy #bellarke #bellamy x clarke #bellamy x octavia #kane x abby #kabby

[sarcasticdebate]

Sailors Take Warning

Relationship: Emori/John Murphy, Gen - AO3

Rating: T

Summary: Emori was born with black blood and a mutated left hand. One of those things granted her the opportunity for leadership and acceptance, the other barred her from ever hoping to have either. Emori has long since accepted that the spirit of the Commander will never chose her, and has carved out a different life for herself. Until four strangers offer her a chance to ascend, and, more importantly, a way to get back to John Murphy. 

[Canon Divergent AU from 3.13/3.14]

Written for The 100: Chopped Fanfic Challenge hosted by @dylanobrienisbatman and @littlefanpire. Super excited that I won first for the use of the canonverse theme, the character swap trope, and the ‘everyone thinks you’re an asshole but you’re nice to me’ trop, as well as first overall!! Thanks to everyone who voted. You can check out the other fics here!

Emori loves her boat. It’s been the one constant in her life since her early adolescence. A means of escape and survival, a place of shelter and sleep. She’s fallen in love on this boat, with herself, and the world, and a boy. In her head she sometimes calls herself Emori of the Boat People. She loves her boat, and there’s someone on it.

Emori drops her freshly caught rabbit and unsheathes her knife, still dirty from her kill.

The boat had been well concealed, and Emori is forced to tamper down her annoyance at it being found to focus instead on using the thick brush to conceal her movements as she creeps onboard.

The closer she gets the more she’s able to gage about the trespasser. He’s younger than she first thought, tall and skinny, maybe malnourished. Hardly capable of putting up a decent fight. But he’s also yelling, in Gonaslang, and in conjunction with his clothes its clear he’s skaikru.

“Guys!” he calls, and Emori knows she needs to act now, before any of his reinforcements arrive. “We’re looking for the boat people, right? I found a boat!”

There’s an answering call, muffled by distance, but then the sound of movement, and Emori knows she’s running out of time. The kid is searching through her stuff now, hunched over as he picks through her tech, and although something in her prickles at the sight of this stranger handling her things, she also recognizes it as her last opportunity.

With practiced grace she leaps onto the boat, her landing so soft that they don’t even sway in the water. It’s a simple matter after that to take him by the collar, haul him away from her things and throw him belly down onto the deck, her knee in the center of his back pressing hard enough to cause discomfort. The knife finds its place at the nape of his neck and he grunts, trying to reach back and push her off, but she takes his wrist in her gloved hand twists it till he yells.

“Tell me what you want with my boat and I won’t kill you,” She whispers into his ear. The words come out as a hiss and her breath makes the hairs rise on his neck. She has to make sure he fears her.

“We’re just looking for someone named Emori! We’d heard she’d have a boat!”

The use of her name surprises her, but not enough for her grip to loosen.

“Who told you that name?” She asks, and her prisoner starts moving again, wriggling in an attempt to break free. As if on cue his back-up breaks through the treeline, but there’s only two of them: a petite blonde woman who looks at the situation first with worry before it settles into grim determination as she looks to the older man at her side, his gun aimed at Emori.

Emori pulls the kid in her grip to his knees, her body shielded by his. The knife finds its way to the front of his neck. There’s a faint scar there, where someone has cut his throat before, so she presses the edge of her knife to that point, to remind him of the pain. He goes still.

“Eject the magazine from the gun and kick them both away and no one has to get hurt.”

The man with the gun hesitates, looks first to her knife, then her hostage and finally over his shoulder.

“We don’t want anything from you, just information,” he says, voice low and gravely, but he begins to lower the gun holding up his free hand in what he probably assumes is a show of good faith. As if information is nothing.

“Bellamy, wait. What if she’s chipped?” The woman on the bank says and Emori blinks.

“Bellamy Blake?” She says, her mouth forming the words without her mind’s consent. The gun is raised again and the posture of all three of the strangers becomes lined with tension. They’ve suddenly become more dangerous.

“How do you know who I am?” He barks, and she can see him weighing the risks of taking a shot, his eyes falling to his friend with concern.

She takes a risk before he can. “John told me.”

Bellamy’s eyes shift, uncomfortable and uncertain. His gun doesn’t move, but his finger on the trigger softens.

“John Murphy? You know John Murphy?” The blonde woman asks, her eyes wide with something like excited relief.

Emori’s mouth pinches. Of course she knows John Murphy. Knows the sharp spark is his eyes when they outsmarted a mark, knows how his voice sounds in the morning, knows about his scars, the ones on his body and the ones in his mind, knows what his hands feel like running up her thighs and cupping her breasts and tracing her jaw.

That knowledge burns now though. It’s eating her up inside, when she considers it against the memory of him shaking his head, fear in his eyes, as he was dragged away and she did nothing. He might be dead now. He could have died days ago while she dawdled trying to fit together the flimsiest outlines of a plan to get him back.

This is the first time she’s allowed herself to think of that possibility, his name in this stranger’s mouth a trigger to all the worst case scenarios when before she was able to convince herself to rely on the cleverness of his mind.

“I do,” she says, but has no opportunity to elaborate or ask questions because the boat rocks, unsettled, and Emori turns her head to see a fourth member of the party, a girl with sharp black hair, sword in hand. She doesn’t have a chance to yell a warning before the girl springs forward, her sword swinging in a wide arc, and Emori is forced to shove her hostage to the side, so she can parry with her knife, the sword’s sharp edge just catching on the hilt, close enough that she feels wind from the motion move her hair. She forces the path of the sword to her right, then grabs the girl’s wrist with her gloved hand to limit her control of the weapon. Emori tries to pull her opponent closer, knowing that her knife will be useless against the wider range of the girl’s sword. They wrestle over the blade for a moment, before Emori’s elbow connects with the girl’s jaw making enough of an opening to kick her down.

But their struggle was enough time for the former hostage to recover himself, and rush her. He tackles her to the ground using his momentum and the leverage of his height. With the breath knocked out of her he’s able to land one punch, sending the back of her head smacking into the deck, and making her nose sting in sharp pain.

He stops in the assault, which makes him a fool. One punch is not enough to keep her down. He seems confused, and his distraction allows her to deliver a swift knee to his gut and push him off her.

Her attention turns back to the female warrior who has reclaimed her sword and Emori is thinking about the possibility of pushing the two of them overboard and starting the boat quick enough to get away, when the hostage exclaims behind her.

“Wait! You’re Emori?”

The warrior’s stance becomes less hostile. Although her expression remains the same, held together by anger. It might be set like that.

“Well, she’s a nightblood. And she feels pain.”

Emori feels blood drip onto her lower lip and quickly brushes away the trickle coming from her nose.

The other two are on her boat now as well, and Emori doesn’t like it. She takes a step back. She can’t fathom what they might want with her. No one’s cared that she has nightblood for a long time, skaikru should least of all.

“You are Emori, right?” The blonde asks, stepping forward, seemingly unaware that Emori doesn’t want her close. “I’m Clarke, and this is Bellamy, Jasper, and Octavia. We’re friends with Murphy, and we need your help.”

“Friends who hung him from a tree?” She snaps back, satisfied by the way Clarke flinches and Bellamy looks to the ground. Octavia mumbles something inaudible, but obviously rude, and it’s only Jasper’s hand on her shoulder that seems to take the venom from her eyes. “Why should I trust you, let alone help you?”

“You’re the last Natblida,” Clarke continues, with desperation Emori notes. She reaches into a concealed pocket on her chest to pull out a small box which she opens it to reveal a tiny piece of tech, like one of Jaha’s chips, the sacred symbol, ALIE’s symbol, emblazoned right in the center. “Lexa died,” Clarke says, something hopelessly empty in her eyes for a moment, “and her spirit has chosen you to be the next Commander. Titus entrusted me with the flame to give to you.”

Emori scoffs.

“You want me to be the Commander?” She asks, the idea honestly funny. All four pairs of eyes are fixed on her, and Emori isn’t sure she’s ever had this much attention put on her in her life. Clarke must misinterpret the comment. Her next statement is still desperate, but insistent now too.

“Titus told me about how you ran from your conclave, and I know it’s frightening to lead, but—”

“Of course he told you I ran,” Emori interrupts, almost laughs. She hasn’t had reason to think of that self-righteous bald man in years, but her hatred for him still bubbles, just below the surface. Memories of how happy she had been to come to Polis as an accepted novitiate are now clouded with bitterness over her own naivety when she remembers how she had been neglected or excluded in all aspects of the training the other nightbleeders were groomed in. All of that she might have been able to deal with if it weren’t decided at the most final moment that she wasn’t even deserving of a warrior’s death in a competition for what should have been her birthright. Cast out again, it was then that she began to recognize it as the pattern of her life.

“I didn’t flee the conclave because I thought I would lose. They kicked me out because they were afraid I would win.”

Clarke’s eyes narrow, as if she can’t comprehend being lied to by the old flamekeeper.

“I can’t ascend,” Emori says, her left hand curling into a fist. “No one will ever accept me as Commander.” As a child it was a hard truth, but the thought of it no longer stings. She’s moved on from who she could have been.

“You don’t have to be Commander,” Bellamy interrupts, a statement that Clarke doesn’t seem too keen to accept. “You just have to take the flame so we can stop ALIE from taking over everyone’s minds and ending the world.”

Emori’s thoughts starts spinning with this admission, she doesn’t know why they didn’t start with that.

“Jaha’s ALIE?” She asks. “In the City of Light?” She remembers John’s explanation of what had happened to the old man, the offer that he had made to go to a place without pain. Remembers also ‘the bitch in the red dress’, the one who had first ended the world.

“Yeah,” Clarke confirms, “She’s turning people into mindless minions who take away free will. If you take the flame we can figure out how to stop her.”

Clarke holds the little rectangle between two fingers, pressing it into her line of vision, and Emori thinks of the reasons she should refuse. There’s clear danger in what they propose and little benefit. Still, ALIE might come to prove herself a nuisance for Emori in the future, and she doesn’t often have the reassurance of allies. Having ones who don’t seem to wish her harm is better than any future opportunity will be. And she certainly wouldn’t mind them owing her a substantial favor.

“Okay,” she agrees, and all four of them seem to relax by at least a few measures.

“I need to put the flame in the back of your neck,” Clarke explains, and it takes more self control than Emori is willing to admit to stop herself from flinching at the way Clarke brushes aside her hair. Her fingertips on the first notch of her spine are oddly shaking, as is her voice when she whispers words Emori has never heard. “Ascende superius.”

There’s a feeling like a needle entering the back of her neck, cold enough to halt the flow of blood in her veins before it changes sharply and starts to burn like a cauterization across the length of her spine. She yells, her back arching in unpleasant ways that only abate to an aching throb pressing out from inside her head to every inch of her skull.

The pain subsides quickly, except for the headache, leaving a warm prickle to dance through her blood. Emori blinks away the tears that had welled in the corners of her eyes to see Jasper crouched in front of her, his hands hanging loosely in the air just in front of her shoulders. She doesn’t remember falling, but she accepts his hand and lets him pull her into a sitting position.

“Are you okay?” he asks, once he’s satisfied that she’s settled.

Her mouth feels thick, like her lips are so swollen as to make talking difficult, but she nods anyway. Despite the bodily discomforts she feels largely the same.

“Do you know how to stop ALIE?” Clarke asks, not one to stray far from sight of the goal it would seem.

Emori rubs the center of her forehead in an attempt to ease the headache and closes her eyes. She doesn’t know if it will help to stimulate whatever is supposed to happen, but at least she won’t have to be aware of all the eyes pressed on her.

The idea comes to her in flashes of memory: The backpack she had stole from Gideon clutched in one hand, opening it with her knife, John holding it over the water in a successful exchange for her life.

“There’s a backpack,” Emori explains piecing together the information slowly, “That’s what ALIE is stored on. Destroy it and we destroy her.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” Jasper says sitting forward in interest. “It’s what Jaha used to make the chips, I think.”

“Well, where is it?” Octavia says, sharp.

“Last I knew Jaha had it.”

“Yeah,” Jasper confirms, “he was really protective of it.”

“Well then where’s Jaha?” Bellamy asks. They look to each other in dumb confusion until Clarke hatches a plan.

“Polis probably. If he’s trying to get as many people chipped as possible. It’s even more densely populated than Arkadia.”

“I can’t go to Polis,” Emori says, a reflex. “I’ll be killed.”

“What did you do?” Clarke asks, in the same breath as when Jasper questions, “Why?”

“Is it for the same reason why you couldn’t ascend?” Clarke continues, clever enough to find the commonality. Emori admits nothing, shifting how she sits so her hands are tucked under her thighs.

“The twelve clans are intolerant. They’ve been trying to erase my existence for my whole life, I’m not going to let them.”

“But now you’re the Commander,” Clarke tries, as if she’s been able to learn in the short time that’s passed since skaikru fell all the ways of the people on the ground. “They’ll respect you.”

Emori thinks about laughing in her face, thinks about spelling out her ignorance to her letter by letter, thinks about just kicking the lot of them off her boat. But she doesn’t move or speak, thinks instead about finally carving out a place of acceptance for herself.

“Please,” Clarke says, desperation setting in, “You said yourself this is how we stop ALIE. And Murphy’s in Polis.” Emori hates that she’s right to know those words will cause a squeeze of longing in Emori’s chest. Hates too that she was already planning on going to the Capital in the flimsy hope that she could trade her scavenged ALIE tech to Titus for John’s safe return without even the reassurance of the spirits of the Commanders shifting in her mind.

“And we’ll protect you,” Bellamy adds.

“Alright,” Emori says, wondering where all her common sense has gone. “The river will take us straight there.”

Polis sits on the Wide River, and Emori would never typically travel on it when it was so commonly used for commerce by various villages along its banks. But speed is of necessity so she risks the danger, finding comfort to in the fact that Bellamy has a gun.

She starts the boat, guiding them to the mouth of the river, not too far down the shore. It’s unerringly quiet until Bellamy breaks the silence to speak into a radio to someone named Raven, informing her of the events of the afternoon. The others fall into deliberation after that, and like so many before them they seem to forget about her once she’s left their frame of view. She stays still and keeps her breaths quiet so that she can eavesdrop.

“Are we doing the right thing?” Clarke says, maybe rhetorically. “All we really know about this girl is that most other grounders hate her and that she’s John Murphy’s girlfriend? None of that is really giving me a vote of confidence. I mean, think about what kind of person you have to be to fall in love with him.”

“Lincoln trusted her,” Octavia says. “And Murphy might have been a lying killer, but his body count isn't as high as some people's.”

“He was still always kind of a dick though,” Jasper says, more bored than harsh, trying to neutralize the rising heckles of the little group, but still the comment irritates something in her chest at the lack of understanding his so called friends have of him. “He’s the one that shot Raven.”

“It’s the best choice we have,” Bellamy says in a way that’s final. “If she’s working an angle it can’t be worse than anything else we’ve seen.”

The others seem to agree with that, and they go quiet.

“Come on,” Bellamy says, “Daylight’s dwindling, this might be the only chance we have to sleep for a while. We’ll take shifts to stay up with Emori, I’ll go first.”

Emori might question why they feel the need to have one of their own group stand guard, but it seems a waste of energy to pinpoint the level of trust they’re placing in her.

Bellamy lingers on the lower dock for some time, eyes trailing over the three others as they drift off, but soon enough he comes up to meet her. Let’s his gun hang loose at his side.

“Where’d you get this boat?” He asks, as if too strike up a conversation, or peel information from her. But he’s no spy, and when she looks in his eyes there’s something close to sincerity. Even still she lets the silence sit while she considers lying.

“I acquired it from a previous owner. Made some improvements myself.”

“Impressive,” Bellamy notes, “you’d get along with Raven. She designed the motorized Rovers we use.”

Emori hums. “I don’t generally get along with people.”

“Sorry about my sister attacking earlier,” he says, as if he thinks that’s the root of her social trouble. “I’m sure we can all get along given enough time. I mean apparently you get along with Murphy, that’s no easy feat.”

“It’s not that hard.”

Bellamy’s stance shifts were he stands next to her, in disagreement perhaps, or plain awkwardness.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you know each other?”

It’s probably the black ink of the night that prompts her to answer the question so openly, darkness conceals all sorts of vulnerability. It lets you expose some of the bleeding pieces of your heart to the fresh air.

“We’re lovers.”

“Huh.” A funny expression plays across Bellamy’s face, surprise, confusion, amusement. The need to defend John flashes sharp in her.

“I know you hate him,” Emori says. “But he’s…” She thinks of the way he had seen her, the day they first met, when she had carted him and his friends from the desert to the island and he had stood where Bellamy now stands, asking about her solitude. He had looked at her the same every time she returned to the island to hand off new tech. It was the care and a cool softness and understanding that convinced her to start taking him on the trips. It’s what made her fall for him too. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You’re right,” Bellamy says after a long pause, one which Emori didn’t think he’d try to bridge again. “I hated him for a long time. Now though...a lot of things have been put in perspective.”

“As they should be,” Octavia says behind them, standing at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s my shift for watch.”

Bellamy looks as if he’s thinking to protest, but he moves away from Emori without much complaint, looking to his sister for some type of compassion. But she presses her eyes closed as he passes.

Slowly Octavia comes up to take a position next to Emori, taking the assignment of guard seriously even when there’s nothing to see except the reflection of the moon against the water.

The wind picks up several times making them both shiver, but neither of them talk about it. Emori is just beginning to think they’ll spend their time together in utter silence when Octavia’s hoarse voice breaks the quite.

“You knew Lincoln,” she says, and Emori would have to be far more pigheaded to not noticed the layers of grief that coat the name.

“Not well,” Emori says, although she remembers the one time they had spoken very clearly in her memory. It had been a good con.

“He mentioned you a couple times,” Octavia continues, seemingly not satisfied by Emori’s answers. “He spoke highly of you.”

Emori turns her head away. A person like Lincoln would. He was a skilled warrior, but too soft. A few lies about a fictional safe haven for the misplaced had gotten her a large supply of medicine. Seemed better than telling him it was for the boat dwelling clan of one.

“He’s dead?” Emori asks, turning the conversation so that her own viewpoint of their relationship won’t come to light.

“Yes,” Octavia whispers, not that Emori needs the confirmation.

“That’s a shame,” Emori says, thinking of the ways to endear herself to this vulnerable girl. “He had a good heart.”

Octavia scratches at her chest, then stands with a sudden jolt, distancing herself from Emori as if she’ll be able to shake off the weight of heartbreak with movement alone. Emori licks her lips, and is forced to acknowledge that she’s been attempting to do the same these past long days.

Exhaustion pulls at Emori like a riptide, the desire for sleep a sudden and deadly call. Octavia stands at the stern, her eyes looking to the river behind them, and despite her habits Emori doesn’t think the girl will attack her in her sleep.

She stalls the book and picks a spot away from the others to lie down to sleep, just for a few hours. But her sleep is not restful.

She dreams of the crack of a gunshot, a flaming cinder planted in her stomach that spreads to consume her flesh. There’s sobbing and gasping, and then pain choked yells. Someone else’s black blood drips out of a closed fist, warping as it lands on the flame. The sacred symbol on the blue tech transforms into the same symbol installed in a geometric backpack, one she had once killed for. The tech of its belly uncovered and shining in dim light for precious few seconds before the blunt end of a spear comes crashing down on it. From the corner of her eye she can see John’s face, dirty and handsome, like the day she met him. Exhaustion pulls at his eyes, and all she wants to do is to turn her head, reach out and soothe the worry from his skin. But then synapses disconnect, wires break, and Emori wakes with a start.

“The City of Light’s been destroyed,” she says into the cool air of the night. Octavia is the only one awake, but the others stir at her outburst.

“It’s gone,” Emori repeats, “Someone else destroyed the backpack.” She doesn’t mention who that someone is, but her heart thuds with the knowledge.

“It can’t be that easy…” Clarke says, and Emori wonders if the girl feels lost because she wasn’t able to fulfill her savior complex or because paranoia is what has kept her alive this long. “How do you know?”

“I saw it,” Emori says, unsure how to explain something she doesn’t know herself. Perhaps it has something to do with the interconnections of the tech, but Emori has no way to know, and doesn’t particularly care either.

“Raven it’s Bellamy, come in.” Emori looks over to see Bellamy speaking into a radio, hope that’s known too much disappointment rising behind the depths of his eyes.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t asleep Blake,” a disembodied voice comes back. “I’ve actually been meaning to tell you guys, I think I can create a backdoor through the key into ALIE’s code to find a kill switch.”

“Wait, is the City of Light still there?” Bellamy demands, and even Emori, who is sure of its destruction, holds her breath in wait of the confirmation.

“What do you mean is it still...oh my god. It’s gone. There’s no more code.” Comes back the voice, a crackle that pours relief out into the open air. “We did it.”

“Not us,” Bellamy corrects, “Someone in Polis destroyed the server ALIE was on. We’re on our way there now. We’ll get our people back and then we’ll start to rebuild.”

“It won’t be that easy,” Octavia says, dark and sharp into the silence the click of the radio had returned. “Some people still have things to atone for.” She stands as if to move away from the group but there’s little space to go on the small boat. Jasper gets up to follow her, the pair of them speaking in hushed tones as they lean over the railing to watch the first rays of dawn bring light to the day.

Bellamy and Clarke watch them for a moment before turning to each other, their own quiet conversation concerning plans and technicalities. Emori stands so she can get the boat moving. She won’t be able to sleep any more.

“Emori wait,” Clarke calls out, “We need to talk about rebuilding.”

“That doesn’t concern me,” she says.

“It should now that you’re Commander.”

Emori has no intention of lingering in Polis, she’ll find John and then the two of them will get the hell out. He’s probably already trying to leave now that the City of Light is gone, they’ll need to get there quick if she wants to intercept him.

“That can wait till we get to Polis.” For now she plays along.

Clarke seems to accept this, although not without a suspicious pinch of her eyes. Emori gets them moving again, and tells them they should be at Polis before mid morning.

As they continue down the river, she begins to think she overestimated. They don’t encounter a single other boat along the way, and despite passing the banks of several fishing villages they don’t see any people either.

“Is anyone else really uncomfortable?” Jasper asks, when the tower of Polis has come into view. There are sounds, finally, coming from the city, but none of them bode well.

“Yeah,” Octavia agrees. “And I think there’s someone following us.”

“What?” Bellamy says, moving to stand next to her, using the scope of his gun to look out to the place where Octavia points. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I can’t make anything out for sure, but there’s been movement for the past couple of miles. At first I thought it was just an animal, but it’s been following the line of the river too closely for too long.”

“It’s someone on horseback,” Bellamy confirms.

“They won’t be able to catch up,” Emori says. An animal that can fatigue is no match for the swiftness of her boat. None of them seem to take any comfort at her words, all of them turning their ears to listen for the pound of hooves. Emori is more concerned about what awaits them in the city.

She’s right to worry. Polis is soaked in blood, it sits in pools among the cobblestones, weeps out of bodies that are nailed to crosses or that lie already dead in the center of the streets. In her memory Polis always smelled like iron, but it was the ashy type that came from fire and blacksmiths; now it’s wet and red, thick enough to taste.

Jasper looks nauseous, and Clarke heartbroken. Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut for long stretches of time, as if to ward of the sting of a violent memory. They walk silently through the streets, avoiding the sobs and outraged cries of mothers and children and friends. There’s an odd urging in the back of her head to call them to action, say some fancy words of condolence before putting them to work, but Emori shakes her head to dislodge the suggestion.

They make it to the center square without being stopped, or even looked at twice. And it’s there that Clarke finally breaks the silence.

“Mom!”

There’s an odd assortment of grounders and skaikru brought together before the entrance of the tower. And even as Clarke rushes into her mother’s embrace, tensions between the two simmer, suspicious eyes and barked insults threatening to bring the situation to a boil.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy asks of a bearded man, tear tracks the only lines of clarity on his dirty face.

“The grounders are blaming skaikru for the deaths that occurred under ALIE,” the man says, his head bowed, but his gaze remained fixed on the accusers.

“But we have our dead too.”

“It’s the tech,” the older man says, his hand on the muzzle of Bellamy’s gun to keep it pointed down. “They think we’re the ones who created her.”

“Aren’t you?” Questions a new voice, cool and sharp. It’s owner is a tall woman, her furs characteristic of Azgeda, but her face bearing none of the traditional scarring.

“Echo…” Bellamy says, recognition and then desperation playing across his face.“We’ve suffered as much as you. And now we have to help each other.”

“Skaikru is incapable of helping us,” Echo says, regret mixing with her harshness to create something heavy. “I’m sorry Bellamy, but Azgeda is taking command of the city on behalf of Commander Ontari. No one leaves.”

“If it’s on Ontari’s order, then where is she?” Clarke steps up, and the two women wear matching glares. “You don’t have any authority here.”

Echo lifts her chin. “Take them all prisoner.”

There’s a scuffle then as the two groups approach each other and Emori turns her head to look for a route of escape, but before any of them are dragged away in chains, Jasper’s voice breaks through the struggle like the crack of a whip.

“HEY!”

Emori wouldn’t think it enough to distract heavily trained Azgedan soldiers, but there’s enough influence in his voice to catch them all unaware.

“Is this really what we’re doing now? We all just got our minds back from a crazy AI who made us torture people we love, and we’re all turning against each other again? If this can’t draw us together, then we’ll always be at war. We have to try and work together.” Jasper is frantic in his insistence, and convincing too. Emori sees more than one soldier lower their sword.

“The boy is right,” says a warrior woman coming out of the tower, but Emori pays her hardly any attention because John stands to her left, his eyes shifty and distrustful as he looks out over the crowd. Until he sees her.

“Of course Trikru would say that when it suits them,” Echo snaps back, and the two start a squabble about the old feud, but Emori couldn’t care less because John is alive, and he’s here, and his mouth is forming the shape of her name.

She’d run to him if there weren’t so many people in the way, screw the fear of making a spectacle of herself, it would be worth it. Instead she’s trapped between two groups a pin drop away from a fire fight.

“I say it because you don’t have any authority here. Ontari kom Azgeda is dead, and until a time when a new Commander can ascend, the council of ambassadors will speak for the needs of the clans. Not Azgeda alone.”

Silence, by definition, should not have a sound, yet Emori swears it rings through the crowd at the news.

“Except there already is a new Commander,” John says, his voice not raised, but still able to carry through the crowd, his sardonic tone catching on all their ears. She’s almost surprised when he singles her out with a casual point, but his eyes remained locked with hers, wider than how he normally holds them, willing her to understand him.

Trusting him is easy. She takes one of her knives off her belt and nicks her palm, the cut oozing tar that starts to trickle down her wrist as she holds her hand over her head for the crowd to see. The grounders in her vicinity take a step back, a familiar motion, but one that is now associated with awe rather than disgust.

John is then able to make his way through the crowd to her, he reaches out, her gloved hand slipping into his easily. He smiles at her, small, almost not there, but still he lets it crack through the pretense for her.

“Murphy?” Bellamy questions, but he’s already pulling her away, and only manages a glance over his shoulder for his former friend.

“I got this Bellamy.”

Emori isn’t yet positive about what they’re lying about, but it’s easy enough to follow his lead, to find a place at the base of Polis tower and prepare to bullshit her way through this.

“This is Emori, she’s the last Nightbleeder.”

“And who are you?” Someone calls out, one of the Azgedan guards.

“The flamekeeper,” John says, his tone accusing the man of idiocy. Emori studies John from the corner of her eye, wanting to ask him a thousand questions but refraining for the sake of the con. God, she taught him well. “Now why don’t we go up there,” he says with a point up there tower, “where she can recite the lineage and we can figure this thing out without spearing each other.”

The warrior John was with, Indra, some part of her brain supplies, steps forward then, eyeing them with no small amount of suspicion, but seeming to fall into support of them anyway.

“Let’s go,” John whispers in her ear as the woman starts calling for representatives from each of the clans to ascend to the tower and for those left behind to start building pyres for the dead. John guides her inside the tower, first into a main hallway before pulling her off to one that was narrow and easy to miss. Her memory of the building from her childhood seems wildly insufficient.

“We could still get out of here,” he says, their pace nearing a run now.

“We won’t make it out of Polis.” Not with tensions running as high as they are. And especially not after they put themselves on display like that. “Might not hurt to have a lot of power. And your old friends owe me now.”

“Okay,” John says, coming to a halt. They’ve arrived in the same hallway they originally started in. They've ran a circle. Now there’s nowhere to go but up.

“Okay,” Emori agrees, stepping into the old elevator, John joining her a moment later after miming something for the two men who are inexplicably still standing by the wheel waiting to turn it. The doors haven’t even closed before he wraps his arms around her, two hands strong and firm across her back.

“I missed you,” he says, his arms squeezing tighter as she presses her forehead into his shoulder, allowing herself to sway just a little bit.

“I missed you too,” she breathes back, forcing herself to step out of his embrace so that they can start getting on the same page only to fall back into it when the elevator stutters to a halt, upsetting her balance.

“What was that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” John laughs, brushing down her hair. “I told the guys to stall us halfway there. Gives them a break, gives us time to talk.”

“Yeah,” Emori breathes, her hands squeezing his forearms. “How did you know I ascended?”

John exhales deeply. “No one’s shut up about nightblood since I got here. Remember that time you pricked your finger making fishing hooks? I knew you had it, and I knew Clarke had the flame, and that you were with her. But mostly I was just bluffing. Been doing a lot of that lately.”

Emori huffs in laughter. “That’s a big risk John. Hardly a survivor's move.” She tries to sound berating, but mostly she’s too charmed by how his mind works. His daring and quick thinking.

“It was worth the risk, if it could get us both out of there.”

“But now we’re here,” Emori notes. And John nods, his hands falling to cup hers, fingertips staining from where she cut herself. But no, stain is the wrong word.

“We’ll go along with it for now, until a big enough distraction comes along for us slip away. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.” Emori nods, wanting nothing more than for them to get back on their little boat and to leave the complexities of society to flounder on the shore.

“Okay, now that all that’s settled, I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Please,” she mumbles into his lips. There’s no patience in the kiss, both of them seeking too much from each other—reassurance, comfort, presence—for it to be chaste. He backs her against one wall, clutching at her waist, tongue playing at her bottom lip while she reaches for the back of his neck to pull him closer.

She kisses at the corner of his jaw, and when she moves to the sensitive parts of his neck he gasps her name without shame. His thumb presses into the point just behind her ear, his other fingers tilting her jaw up so their mouths can collide again. Her gloved hand tugs uselessly at his collar when he slots one of his legs between hers and she’s on the verge of asking him to take it off so she can feel his skin when the elevator starts moving again with a jolt, sending their foreheads knocking into one another.

“Shit, sorry,” he says, soothing the spot with his thumb. She copies the motion and he smiles fully this time, just for her. A moment later the door dings open.

The body of the former Commander lies on the steps in front of the throne, stabbed to death it would seem.

“Shit,” John says. “Indra and I didn’t move her.” He explains how he and Indra had come to kill her after they destroyed the City of Light. “She really deserved it,” was the story’s culmination, John’s voice shallow and dark. They move her corpse to a vacated room and leave it at that, the floor dark and dirty enough that her blood doesn’t leave too much of an imprint.

The others begin coming up in batches, first the skaikru she had escorted on her boat, but then many others, mostly faces she doesn’t recognize; people who have just been informed about the existence of the new Commander and look at her with curiosity. John stands a little in front of her, protective, which she finds so sweet she doesn’t bother to remind him of the fact that she’s the much better fighter. He passes the time by whispering how she’ll have to recite the names of all the former Commanders, and makes a big deal about brushing off any of the representatives who approach in hopes of talking to them.

The room fills too quickly, but it also seems to take far too long. But at last the final elevator arrives and in unspoken recognition all the room goes quiet, attention placed solely on her. So many eyes.

“The Commander will now recite the lineage.” The words sound so boxy and improper in John’s mouth, but everyone but Emori seems convinced.

Standing in front of them, in front of a throne, makes her think she should quiver. John stands next to her and fighting the urge to hold his hand seems more difficult than any of the tasks she’s completed in the past day. But despite those things, her stance is firm as names and faces flash in her mind. She doesn’t realize she’s saying them out loud until she peels her eyes open to see the various degrees of surprise written across the faces of the crowd.

John looks to the room as if in challenge before announcing to them all. “Commander Emori.”

She’s often thought that her name felt empty without a following clan title, but she’s always liked the way John says her name.

“One of you sound the horn,” John orders. “Let the people know they have a Commander.”

A man at the edge of the group begins to move, but doesn’t make it to the balcony before a new arrival breaks through the gathering.

“Not so fast,” says a strong square man, pushing his way past people.

“Roan wait!” Clarke calls out, only to be ignored, as is Echo who seems to say something sounding a lot like “My liege!”

“The pair of you are frauds!” Roan calls out, his finger and glare accusatory. “That man is a skaikru imposter and the girl is nothing but a frikdriena!”

Actual gasps of shock rumble through the room, but no one yet makes a move for a weapon. Confusion setting in first.

“You might think you’re so smart, using your little boat to hide away all these years, but you couldn’t even shake a tail. It just makes obvious what you are. A coward and a stain.”

“Back up,” John growls even if he can’t hold a candle to Roan in terms of intimidation. The man turns his focus to him instead.

“You have big talk for a dirty rat.”

“King Roan,” that’s Echo by his side now, her hand on his shoulder a gesture made to pull him away. “Even if what you say is true, Ontari’s dead. She’s the true Commander now, we all saw.”

“Don’t make me question your loyalty to Nia’s ideals, Echo,” Roan says. Without even a glance to accompany his words, Echo’s arm drops and she takes a step back.

“I question your loyalty to your mother’s lust for power when she had you banished,” Emori counters, the knowledge pressing on her without warning, like a headache. Roan flinches ever so slightly at the words.

“Fine,” he says, “You’ll get your peace for now. But I’ll never accept a stained Commander.”

Emori blinks with utter boredom. It’s funny how this man thinks she will crumple to insults now after hearing them her whole life.

He storms out of the throne room after that, followed by at least half of those gathered. Clarke looks intimidated by their leaving, the gears in her mind clearly turning, but their exit is undermined by the bellow of the trumpet, reverberating through the streets of Polis.

Emori doesn’t care much either way, it’s not like she’s planning on staying Commander for long.

“You know I was actually expecting that to go a lot worse,” John says, offers her a tired and funny smile. She caves and reaches out to hold his hand.

“It did,” Bellamy says, his face more pale than can be natural. In his right hand he holds his radio, wrist shaking as he presses down a button. “Raven, tell them what you told me.” His eyes are afraid as they survey the room, and a pit drops in Emori’s stomach as the crackle of a voice makes an announcement.

“There’s a wave of radiation coming. We’re all going to die in six months.”

#emori #emori kom spacekru #memori #john murphy #the 100 #memorific #dailymemori #a writing tag

[tiredmoonslut]

The tragedy of Octavia Blake

It’s odd, in a weird way -- I almost like Octavia more this season.

Don’t get me wrong, Blodreina is a psycho. But as a writer, I see her less as a threat to the characters we love and more as an example of what becomes of a girl who was penalized simply for being born. For being forced to grow up with 80% of her life spent beneath a floorboard. For having nothing but her hardened mother and ever-loving brother as company. I see Octavia less as a girl who’s become a threat and more as a girl who saw no other way out than to be a threat because of the mental illness looming above her since she was a child. I mean, we already knew in S1 that she was claustrophobic, and perhaps -- if she’d been treated differently and nurtured by the people of the Ark instead of ostracized for being a second child, that’s as far as the damage would have gone. But that’s not how it happened.

We all know s1!Octavia was a little obsessed with connection. Boy-crazy, wanting to kiss everyone. This was purely because she’d never gotten to DO any of it before. She never thought she would be able to. Meeting Lincoln grounded her in that way (pun very much intended). It was like she said, he was her home. With Lincoln there were no penalties for being alive, there was just being loved, and respected, and held up as a valued, important person by more than just her brother. Indra helped further this. Sixteen years of unreleased energy and pent-up anger and resentment of her situation was stoked and honed into a weapon, a cutting edge. I choose to believe that this is how she became such a good fighter in such a short amount of time. She had the drive, the fire.

Indra was Octavia’s way to being accepted by a community. “Okteivia kom Trikru” became a promise, that she had a place. A society where she wasn’t frowned upon. But then she got stripped of this promise simply because she loved her brother more. Imagine the level of identity crisis a girl in her circumstances would come to after that. Not Skaikru, not Trikru, barely one of the delinquents.

Then Lincoln died. I believe this was really the match that lit her gasoline trail of mental illness on fire. “He was my home”. When Jasper tried to console her with the same advice she gave him, and she said it wasn’t the same? She was right. At least Jasper was still a part of something. Still belonged somewhere. For Octavia, she wasn’t Lincoln’s, she wasn’t Indra’s, and because of the circumstances, she also wasn’t Bellamy’s. That last bit was probably the final straw. Her brother, her one and only constant, is now the one responsible for Lincoln’s death?

Being more or less accepted by Indra once again helped a little, but it didn’t (couldn’t) undo the scars left by Lincoln’s death at Bellamy’s hand. All she had left was rage. Rage that continued to be sharpened and practiced and mastered, ultimately birthing Skairipa. “Death from above” became her outlet, beginning with Pike. It was how she dealt, it became her new promise. No matter how alone she became, she was still a warrior, still a killer. When you’re mentally ill and alone, that can sometimes seem like enough.

But then the survival of the human race (sans Spacekru) became her responsibility, for no reason other than circumstance. This is where the contrast between Osleya and Blodreina becomes obvious. Octavia is broken. She has been since Lincoln died. But with Indra, and her slow-building forgiveness of Bellamy, the possibility of putting her pieces back together became more likely. More of a concept. Wonkru was born entirely from Octavia’s hatred for societal barriers. Societal barriers were the reason behind everything she went through as a child. The conclave for the bunker was her key opportunity to break this cycle, to be the one who changed everything. To be connected. Skaikru and Trikru never completely fit who she was -- and that was simply because Skaikru and Triku needed to exist. If she won the conclave, that wouldn’t be necessary. Wonkru was her answer. Her promise of unity. Of connection.

That’s the entire motivation behind her speech in 4x13. From the ashes, they will rise. Wonkru was her promise. But despite its idealism, it was naive. Twelve warring clans who’ve grown comfortable with separation won’t take the idea of unity without issue. So Octavia is forced to internalize the leadership she’s been a victim of. This (plus whatever the hell happened during the Dark Year) are what made Blodreina. The fire. The resentment. She reconciled those things with blood. With fear. If she could not have Wonkru how she’d originally conceived it, she’d have to make it so. She’d have to stop living on the idea that they were all one and begin living on, if you aren’t Wonkru -- you’re my enemy. This was the true moment that Octavia Blake and Blodreina kom Wonkru diverged into separate entities. The bunker became an amalgamation of the ruthlessness that was her namesake, that was the Red Queen. All the pieces fell in the wrong places, and she became something else. Carnal, ruthless. Broken.

Now that the damage is done, there’s no going back to Octavia. You cannot save someone who is already dead. Octavia has become an enemy of Wonkru, an enemy of Blodreina. And Octavia was not the last one standing in Octavia’s metaphorical arena, Blodreina was. The girl who believed in perfect unity and chased butterflies and loved openly and trusted her brother to keep her safe couldn't win a war, not in Blodreina's head. Only the warriors could.

This is why Octavia’s story remains fascinating and riveting to me. From a writer’s perspective, it’s a tragic masterpiece. The complete and utter deterioration of one’s core personality made manifest in a leader. The seeds of Blodreina weren’t planted in the six year time jump, they were planted all the way back in season two. And everything that’s happened since then has watered and cultivated those seeds into poisonous, metaphorical plants.

Ultimately, at the end of the day, Octavia’s story is meant to be a tragedy.

#the 100 #octavia blake #octavia kom wonkru #octavia kom trikru #octavia kom skaikru #blodreina #wonkru #clarke griffin #wanheda #bellamy blake #the warriors will #jasper jordan #linctavia #monty green #indra #lincoln

[scuttleboat]

So, talk to me about Octavia, what do you see happening to her, what has been your favorite moments from this season so far? Any ideas about about the Blake siblings future?

Okay so you sent this way back in the first half of the season! Many conversations have been had from all the different angles, some I agree with and some not. I think I’ve wrestled with answering this ask because I still don’t really know where her story is going. A lot of my opinions about what has happened so far will yet be shaped by how it resolves. And there’s also a big chance that Octavia v Bloodreina will carry into next season, so I may still not be able to really lay out my thoughts. But I do know that we’ve seen some incredible televsion drama come from Octavia (Marie) this season, and I appreciated that even if I’m still working through how I feel about the storytelling choices around her.

My current thought is about the similarities between what Octavia did as a leader and what other major characters have done. For me the biggest villains of the show are still the Mountain Men, specifically because they live via the pain and death of others without the sacrifice. Wonkru lives via the death of their own, and are very deeply involved in the sacrifice part of it. The whole success of Wonrku is how knowing and participatory it is. A recent thought I was mulling over with Octavia is, well, two thoughts that intertwine…

1. Octavia, more than any other “leaders” on t100 I think except Lexa, was pressured into her position and molded by the people around her. It started with Bellamy and Aurora, became Indra, became Jaha, became Gaia, and finally Abby. Indra makes this explicit in season 5, saying that she and Gaia created Bloodreina as well. The only other leaders on t100 who faced external pressures with that level of intensity and immediacy were the Commanders, and they a) had an A.I. to supplement their mental state, b) never had to face what Wonkru had to face. This is ironic considering how much Octavia has always pursued her right to individual agency. In that pursuit she became trapped, and she still is trapped. Although people like Jaha and Kane thought they had their hands tied on the Ark, they were middle aged adults but the time they took power, not 17 year olds. They didn’t have mentors telling them what to do, and they didn’t have a contextually violent culture as a starting point. Then take characters like Clarke and Bellamy and Monty–for all that they say things like “we had no choice”, they actually had an incredible amount of agency in what they did and why. Clarke and Bellamy didn’t have Indra or Gaia or Kabby standing at their shoulders, coaxing them on when they were pulling levers and making high-risk decisions. I think that diffence in autonomy, small though it may seem, may have helped them survive the experiences emotionally.

2. What I’m thinking about this week is that we had all these characters faced with the same leadership question over and over again (😑), but this is the first time we’ve seen a character broken as a result. Octavia’s mind is broken right now–specifically in the sense that she’s made seemingly irrational choices because of her pain and paranoia. She would not have burned the farm otherwise. That’s the difference really; all of our characters have been close to that collapse at one point, but they’ve been able to make it through. So far, Octavia hasn’t made it through. I hope that she does, but she might not before season 6. I think the reasons for Octavia’s break are pretty apparent, and worthy of sympathy. But if it’s not obvious to someone by now, I’ll do quick hits: she had far worse choices than anyone else so far as a leader, she came into it the least prepared, and she was in it many times longer anyone else. Years longer, during the part of her life when she transitions from youth to adult. And as I said in point #1, Octavia also was explicitly guided and molded into Bloodreina during those times as well. In a way, Bloodreina is all of those mentors combined with Octavia, compressed under incredible pressure and pain.

I don’t know if the other characters like Clarke and Bellamy would have been able to make it six years through that without being broken by it. Clarke was in charge for a few months and it almost broke her after season 2. Her flight to the woods and isolation before season 3 isn’t that far off from what Octavia tried to do in season 4, and probably would have liked to do in the last six years if the whole population hadn’t relied on her as their icon. Bellamy didn’t face the same pressures leading up to MW that Clarke did, but what he went through still haunted him, and his reaction to further trauma was to partition parts of himself in order to operate as a leader in season 3—again, shades of what Octavia would ultimately do as Bloodreina. So we’ve seen some of these tragedies happen to characters before on the show. But nothing of this scale, this depth, this complexity, or this duration.

For me the jury’s still out on whether I like this storyline; it’s certainly emotional, and parts of it are entertaining in a macabre way. I love Bloodreina’s look, and every time she sends a withering stare to Kane I’m like “I feel you girl”. Seeing the emotional depth in her various relationships has been good TV. But ultimately it’s not fun to watch. It’s a lot of ceaseless misery heaped on a character that I care about, in way that is so much more extreme than what the main characters have been used for previously. I’m gonna have a lot of reservations if Octavia dies as Bloodreina–in fact, I think I would pretty ferociously hate that. I would hate that more than bellarke being just friends for the whole show. If the show gives us a girl who is abused and tormented from the moment she’s born, then says that her desire to be autonomous is what brings upon her the worst bad-guy fate of anyone on the show where supposedly there are no good or bad guys… what the fuck. That is on par for me with Thanos being cosmically “rewarded” for abusing and then murdering his daughter. I don’t want “well she went crazy and then she died” to be how Octavia’s character ends. I think that’s shitty and pathetic. It’s beneath this show, tbh. Far beneath. This isn’t Melrin, ffs.

Ultimately, I don’t *think* that will happen. I’m pretty sure it won’t. But that’s why I’m saying I have to reserve my ultimate feelings about this until I see where the season finale takes Octavia, and the Blake siblings. Depending on where they go, I’ll either be intrigued or pissed off. I hope intrigued. There’s some amazing stuff about the darkness in the show and in Bloodreina and I’m not at all opposed to Octavia being used to explore that. But taking the character who’s already had it worse than anyone else and then extra-destroying her mind and soul just to say “whoa, isn’t tragedy cool??” …that would be a low point for the 100. So I hope they don’t end her story on a note like that.

Octavia can never be the same girl that was thrown in the sky box, or the girl Indra took under her wing, or the girl that won the Conclave. That girl is years gone. But I want to see the woman she becomes after Bloodreina.

#octavia blake #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bloodreina #the 100 meta #blake siblings: titans of earth

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [57]

xii. the chosen

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: violence, hitting people with vehicles, fighting, death, coughing up blood, language.

Summary: with praimfaya less than 24 hours away, the countdown is officially on. in the meantime, a rescue team is assembled to retrieve one of youw own, and things don’t go according to plan.

a/n: BELIEVE IT OR NOT, WE WILL BE FINISHING SEASON 4 ON MONDAY AHHHHHH!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT I AM SO EXCITED BUT SO NERVOUS TO SHARE THE NEXT FEW SEASONS!!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 30th, 2150; the Second Dawn Bunker; 24 hours until Praimfaya

Ultimately, the decision on how to get the Arkadians out of the bunker is made. 

Since nearly all of your people are sleeping, everyone agrees that it’s best to use some of the warriors from the Grounder clans to gather everyone in the atrium. Then the Grounders will close the doors and lock Skaikru out of the bunker until the 100 survivors are chosen.

Of course, the process doesn't go as smoothly as you’d all hoped. 

Instead, over 400 people are dragged from their beds, confused, and forced into the hallways, creating a thick stampede of people being funneled into the atrium. You, Bellamy, Clarke, and Jaha watch the chaos, as your mother and Kane stay inside the office, talking to Raven on the radio. It’s a tight squeeze getting everyone inside of the space, but eventually it’s done, and the Grounders close the doors behind them. This creates a collective cry of dissent, and throughout the crowd you can hear people yelling and questioning what’s happening. 

Jaha is still visibly upset, and he turns to you and Bellamy, trying to make you both feel guilty. “Three out of four of these people are going to die tonight. You still think you made the right choice?”

“Yes. Regardless of what you think, this isn't just about our people, Jaha, it’s about the survival of the human race. You and Clarke say that’s what you care about, but your actions tell me otherwise.” You find no joy or comfort in being responsible for the deaths in this room, but that doesn't matter. All 13 clans agreed to hold a Final Conclave for the bunker, winner takes all. Except when Octavia won, she chose to share the bunker. As the victor, you all have to honor her wishes. Besides, when this all began, Clarke wanted to save everyone, not just Skaikru. She may have lost sight of that, but you haven't. This may not save every person from every clan, but it gives the remaining 12 clans the chance to survive the death wave, and maybe your role in enforcing this decision will ease the death you have brought into the Grounder’s lives.

Bellamy nods towards the door to the office, and you follow him inside, Jaha and Clarke behind you. You and Bellamy come to a stop on the other side of the desk from your mom and Kane, and Clarke lingers near the door, aware that you want your space from her. Jaha steps into the room, getting close to the other adults, turning his sights on Kane. “Our people are scared, Marcus. We need to tell them something.”

“We just spoke with Raven. When she gets here, we'll have all our essential personnel.”

Clarke speaks up from her place near the door. “How many spots does that leave us with?”

“Including the essential personnel and the places that we're holding for the children under 16,” your mom pauses, looking between all of you, conveying the gravity of the situation. “That leaves us with 80.”

Jaha looks between all of you in disbelief. “I can't believe we're talking about sending 364 of our own people to their deaths.” 

Kane levels a look at the former Chancellor. “Look, I don't like it any more than you do.”

“Then let's fight this.”

“No. Any sort of resistance will cost us all our lives. Our best course of action is to hold a lottery for the remaining spots.”

Jaha shakes his head. “It's not going to work, Marcus.”

“It was your idea.”

“That was for the chance to survive.”

Your mom turns to Jaha, giving him a confused look. “And how is this any different?”

“Until 20 minutes ago, our people believed they were safe. They let down their guard, they picked their bunks, they unpacked their bags, they imagined their futures. You try to rip that from them now, and, believe me, they will fight.”

You turn on him, growing angrier with each passing second. “And whose fault is that, Jaha? Oh, that's right, it’s yours.”

Bellamy puts a comforting hand on your arm, and you turn to look at him. He gives you a small shake of his head, letting you know it’s not worth it to waste time arguing with Jaha, and you sigh. When he’s sure you’re letting it go, he turns to Kane and your mom. “Someone still needs to get Raven, I'd like to volunteer.”

You nod your head, “Me too.”

From behind you, Clarke reminds you of her presence for the first time in a few minutes. “And I'll join the two of you.”

As soon as your mom sees that both of you want to go, she shakes her head. “No. Someone else can go with him.”

You roll your eyes, not believing in the vision she’s so convinced is going to come true. “Mom, Raven needs our help and I know the way to the island. I’m going.”

Clarke’s agreement is quieter, her voice sounding slightly broken. “I need to do this.”

Kane steps closer to you and Bellamy, but his gaze bounces between all three of you. “Well, you be safe. There'll be a place for all three of you when you get back.”

You nod, and start to walk away, as your mom calls after you, “I'll meet you in the airlock.”

All three of you head to the airlock, stopping beside the wall of suits, looking for which one will fit you the best. Clarke keeps to herself, and once her suit is chosen, she goes to pull it on in the corner, leaving you and Bellamy to pull on your suits on the other side of the room. When your mom walks in, your pack is in her hand, and she passes it to you. You peek inside, most of your belongings now emptied out, only a few small items stuck inside. “That’s all we can spare you for your trip. The radiation levels will be too high when you get back, so you’ll have to leave your pack outside when you return.”

You nod and she hands you your knife and thigh strap, taken from you when they locked you up the day before. “The only weapon we can spare too.”

“Thank you.”

You start to pull the strap of the knife to the outside of your suit and she nods. She passes you and Bellamy watches with a countdown on them, along with the radiation levels, before she then walks over to Clarke. As you pull the countdown on and secure it to your wrist, she explains to all three of you. “At these radiation levels, any amount of exposure is harmful. Keep the suit sealed at all times. You have 23 hours until the death wave hits. On a good day, it takes 10 hours to get to the island and 10 hours to get back. That doesn't leave you much room for error.”

Clarke nods, “Mom, we know, okay? We'll be careful.”

She motions for you to walk over to her, and you do, coming to stand beside your twin. She lifts a hand to each of your faces and whispers, “I love you, my stars and my moon. Don't ever forget that.”

“This isn't goodbye. Mom, I know what you saw in that vision, but we’re Nightbloods now.”

She seems unconvinced, but she doesn't press any further, she just pulls each of you into a hug and whispers, “Take care of each other.”

You nod, and she turns to look at Bellamy. “Take care of my girls.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Behind you, the door opens, and Murphy and Emori step inside, looking at your gathered group. “You got room for two more?”

Bellamy is clearly still angry at Murphy for not releasing the two of you when you were locked up because he snaps, “Murphy, what are you doing here?”

“We heard you were going after Raven, we just want to help.”

Emori adds, “I've been to that island dozens of times. No one knows the water better than me.”

You walk over to Bellamy, nodding at him, letting him know you should take her. You’re confident that between you and Clarke you can get back to Becca’s Island with no problems, but it doesn't hurt to have Emori’s guidance as well. He sighs and then nods, relenting. 

“Maybe it'll help our chances if we bring home the chosen ones.” 

Your mom looks at him, answering his quip with the reality of the situation. “There's a lottery. I'll make sure that your name is in it.”

“And Emori?”

“I'll do the best I can.” Your mom hugs Clarke one last time, then hugs you, before she turns and leaves the room. You help get Murphy and Emori suited up, and once you’re all ready, you grab your pack and follow Bellamy out of the bunker, your small group in tow. Once on the surface, Clarke nods towards the tunnel entrance. “This way.”

Clarke takes the lead and Emori follows her first, Murphy right behind her. Bellamy grabs his arm as he tries to walk off and pulls him to a stop. “What are you really up to, Murphy?”

“You killed us when you opened that door. You know that, right? Did you think our people are gonna waste a spot on Emori, on me? We were safe, and you screwed us. You want to know what we're up to? It's called surviving. There's a bunker on that island, you're our ride. That's it.”

You shake your head, “That bunker's not stocked, Murphy. You won't last 5 months, let alone 5 years in there.” 

“No, we probably won't. At least we'll survive the death wave.” He starts to step away, and then turns to look back at the two of you. “We can't all be essential personnel, or have a sister who's queen of the Grounders.”

He stalks off, following the rest of your group, and you and Belllamy exchange a look. You can see the guilt weighing on him, the deaths of all those that will be cast out weighing on his conscience. You reach out and squeeze his hand the best you can with the thick gloves, giving him a small smile. “We did the right thing, Bellamy. It might not feel like it, but we did.”

He nods, and then starts to follow the others. “C’mon. We don't want to get left behind.”

-

When you reach the large truck that once held hydrazine intended for a space mission, Emori and Murphy jump into the back and get themselves comfortable. You, Bellamy, and Clarke sit in the front, with Bellamy behind the wheel, you in the middle, and Clarke in the passenger seat. The sky outside is more golden than usual, looking more like sunset than the middle of the day, and that’s what you focus on as Bellamy drives you towards the island. You try to keep your mind off the awkward tension in the vehicle, and the anger that you feel for Clarke, but eventually, it’s all you can think about. You turn towards her, deciding to take a page from Bellamy’s book, and question her motives. “Why did you come on this mission, Clarke?”

“Raven's my friend.”

You snort, “Yesterday, you were fine leaving your friend out to die, Octavia and Kane too.”

Her jaw clenches and she turns towards you, glaring. “I wasn't fine with it, and you know that. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Aiming a gun at me and the love of my life is a strange way of showing it.”

“I didn't pull the trigger.”

You let out a short laugh, not quite sure what she’s trying to imply. “Is that supposed to make it okay?”

“Nothing is okay. Whatever choice I make, somebody always dies.”

You can hear the guilt in her voice, and you know that she means it. And though you’re still annoyed at her, you can't help but offer comfort to your twin, your other half. “Well, not shooting us, that was the right choice.”

She turns to look at you, hearing the lighter tone in your voice, catching onto your dissipating anger. She smiles at you, and you feel Bellamy turn towards the two of you, watching the exchange, before you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You look back towards the windshield, out in front of the vehicle, and see a man jumping into your path, and you yell, “Look out!”

Bellamy turns the wheel and tries to avoid him, but the vehicle hits him anyways, before sliding along on the snowy road, out of control. Bellamy yells, “Hold on!”

He tries to hit the brakes to slow you down, and it helps a little to decrease your momentum before the vehicle crashes into a tree, lurching all of you forwards. All three of you are panting, nerves running high, and Bellamy turns to you, completely worried. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

He glances over your shoulder. “Clarke?”

“I’m okay.”

You look out the front, staring at the blood splattered on the hood and windshield, and you feel a wave of nausea. “He just jumped right out in front of us. It's like he wanted to die.”

Bellamy squeezes your hand, and starts to reach for the door handle. “Stay here. I'm gonna check the damage.”

He gets the door open and as soon as he does, he is yanked out of the truck and pulled to the ground. “Bellamy!” 

You have a flash of a memory, stuck in a rover in Azgeda territory, looking for Clarke, and you can only hope this Grounder is alone. But a second later you confirm that he isn't, because a second Grounder runs at Clarke’s door, and both of you scramble towards the open one, trying to get out and get away. You can hear Murphy yelling as your feet hit the snow, and you know this must be a small group attacking you for whatever reason. 

The man that pulled Bellamy out is pinning him down, and your boyfriend struggles against him, unable to fight as well in the clunky radiation suit. You run at him and knock him off Bellamy, both of you flying to the ground, and rolling away. You hear Clarke yell and then a thud, and you know someone’s got her. You turn and scramble to your feet and see that there are at least 6 Grounders surrounding you, fighting everyone in your group. They manage to pull Murphy and Emori from the back and they’re struggling nearby, but you don't have time to help them because the man that you knocked off Bellamy is now running towards you. 

He swings a punch at you as he approaches and you dodge it before punching back, the impact softened by your gloves. He’s able to recover from the blow much faster than usual. The man grabs you and pushes you backwards into a tree, and you feel your feet lift off the ground as he tries to choke you. You panic, your feet flailing, and the man drops you when he’s suddenly knocked away by Bellamy. You don't have time to thank him because two more men are now approaching the two of you and you yell out, “Bellamy!”

He turns just in time as one of the men reaches him, and you start to fight the other, your punches and kicks feeling clunkier than normal. The man you’re fighting manages to get you on the ground and starts to choke you, this one more successful than the other man’s attempts, and nearby you hear Emori scream, “They want our suits!”

You feel the air stutter in your throat, and panic sets in again, not wanting to die from radiation exposure or choking. You fumble around for a weapon, until you remember the knife strapped to the outside of your thigh, forgotten in the initial chaos of the fight. It’s harder to grab with your thick gloves, but you manage to get a good grip on it as you pull it out from your holster and plunge it into his neck. You pull the knife out just as fast, and the man falls to the side, holding his neck, and you scramble to your feet again. You see an arrow whiz past you, and you think it’s about to hit you, but instead it lands in someone behind you. You turn and see another Grounder, inches from you, now falling to the ground, dead. You run over to Bellamy, pulling the man he’s fighting away, before stabbing the Grounder twice in the chest, killing him. Bellamy doubles over, trying to catch his breath, and you turn around again, looking for others to kill. Instead, they are all dead, arrows sticking out of their backs, no longer a threat to you and your group. Clarke runs over to you and Bellamy, checking you over, and you mutter, “We’re okay.”

She nods and you shove your knife back in its holster as you all turn to look at your savior, watching in shock as they lower their bow and tug down the scarf covering their face. As soon as you see the Ice Nation spy, you feel a flare of anger, and you ask, “Echo, what are you doing here?”

“I know about your bunker on the island. I just saved your lives, I'm hoping you will return the favor.”

You turn to look at Bellamy, both of you shaking your head, not wanting to save her, but she’s right. She did just save all of your lives, whether you like it or not. Bellamy turns to look at the truck, wrecked beyond repair. “Unless we can get another ride, no one's making it to that island.”

You all think for a minute, trying to figure out your plans, when an idea hits you. “Monty. We left the rover at Arkadia.”

Bellamy nods, “You’re right. I’ll try to radio him.”

He jumps into the truck and grabs his radio, and you turn to look at Echo again, now seeing the patches of red that are starting to appear on her cheeks. You move closer to her, reaching up to tip back her hood, and she backs away. You give her a scolding look. “If I was going to kill you, I would have done it already.”

She grows still and you reach up again, pushing her hood back to reveal more of her face, small patches of radiation exposure darkening her porcelain skin. You turn back to Clarke. “She’s already getting  sick.”

“We have an extra suit in the back. I’ll go get it.”

When she returns with the suit, you and Clarke help her to get into it, securing it and making sure it’s put on correctly to keep her from getting any worse. You say as much as you help her pull the helmet on. “This suit will prevent you from getting worse. It's the best we can do right now.”

She nods, fidgeting in it, and Clarke adds, “You'll get used to it.”

Once she’s suited up, you nod at her, now realizing that you just helped to further save someone who has tried to kill you and the people you love multiple times. But maybe stuff like that doesn't matter at the end of the world, especially when you’re now stuck in the woods, too far from both Polis and the Island to walk and make it to safety. 

You go over to the door of the truck and stand with Bellamy as he calls Monty on the walkie talkie, sending out a message for help every few minutes. He calls for hours, the sun slowly setting in the sky and leaving all of you in darkness, guided by nothing other than the lights in the helmets of your suits. Finally, just as you’re starting to give up hope, Monty’s voice comes through the radio. “Bellamy, come in. Do you read me?”

“Yes, Monty, I read you. Where are you?”

You all gather around in a small circle, listening in on the radio call as Monty answers, “Two clicks outside Polis. Almost there.”

You all sigh, knowing that anything you ask at this point will put Monty at risk too. Monty must sense that something is wrong because he comes back on the radio. “Everything okay?”

Bellamy looks at you, silently asking if you should endanger him too, and you think on it for a second. Six of you abandoned in the woods, Raven still stuck on the Island, nuclear death wave on its way in less than 24 hours. And maybe it’s wrong to endanger Monty to save you, but maybe there are no other choices to be made. You nod and he lifts the radio. “Not exactly. Look Monty, I hate to ask you this, but we broke down on the way to the island to get Raven. We need you to come reel us in.”

Monty’s reaction is delayed, leaving all of you sitting on pins and needles, anxious for his answer. “We're on our way. Tell us exactly where you are.”

Bellamy lifts the radio to answer, but pauses when Emori starts violently coughing, forcing all of you to look her way. When you do, you catch the tinge of red inside her helmet, and you run over to her just as Murphy rushes to her side. You look her over, eyes falling on a red patch on her cheek, similar to the ones covering Echo’s face, and you look over at Clarke, who is walking your way. “She’s been exposed.”

Murphy starts to panic, looking between you and his girlfriend. “How's that possible? She's wearing a suit!”

You check her over, trying to find a point of exposure, your heart dropping when you see a tear in the fabric near her helmet. “The seal of her helmet's torn.”

Emori turns to look at you in a panic. “Can you fix it?”

You turn to your twin, “Clarke, go get my pack! Mom might have included something to help.”

She nods and turns to the back of the truck, grabbing your pack and digging through it frantically as she walks back towards you. “There’s nothing here! Just a first aid kit, but no tape or anything to help!”

“Shit.”

Murphy snaps, “We give her the extra suit, then.”

“We don't have another suit.” 

“Yes, we do!” Murphy yells the words at Bellamy, not happy with his answer, before he turns his sights on Echo. “Take it off now.”

She glares at him, “I saved your life.”

“What were you gonna do if we didn't get attacked, huh? I mean, you guys seriously think she was following us out of the kindness of her own heart? No. She was gonna attack us the second that we stopped.” He dives at Echo, ready to attack and tear the suit off her the same way the Grounders tried to do to all of you. “Give me the suit!”

Bellamy jumps in between them, defending Echo, and Clarke yells, “You cut that suit, and it saves no one.”

He turns to look at Clarke, then at Emori, who is starting to look worse with every passing second. “I'm not letting her die.”

You think of Murphy’s panic over Emori’s near death experience in the lab, the fear that he would lose the only family he has left. Your promise to him then was that you wouldn't let them kill her, and you kept that promise by injecting yourself with Nightblood instead. You make the decision before you even realize there’s a decision to be made, and you tug off your helmet, telling him, “Neither am I.”

Bellamy runs towards you, now looking just as panicked as Murphy did, trying to push the helmet back onto your head. “What are you doing? Put your helmet on!”

“I’m making the tough decisions, Bell. I have Nightblood.”

“Untested Nightblood!” He pushes your helmet back towards you, completely uncaring that this could save Emori, unwilling to risk your life to do it.

“We're testing it now.” 

He gives you an exasperated look and turns to Clarke, looking to her for support. She starts to say something, but you shake your head. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Her mouth snaps shut, and Bellamy sighs, watching you closely. You turn to Murphy. “Take off her helmet.”

Murphy pulls off Emori’s helmet and switches it with yours as fast as he can, securing it on her head, keeping her safe again. They both turn to look at you, thankful, and you nod at them. The cool night air feels good on your face, cooling you down from the humidity inside your helmet, and though it’s possibly killing you slowly, you’re not sure how much you care. Bellamy is still staring at you in shock, unsure what to say, when Monty calls over the radio again. “Bellamy, you there? Come in.”

“Yeah, we're here. Head northeast from Polis, and, Monty,” He looks your way, watching your body pull in the poisonous air, worry etching deeper into the lines of his face. “Drive fast.”

As soon as Bellamy puts the radio down he ushers you over to the truck, muttering something about getting you inside and away from the radiation filled air the best he can. You don't bother to argue, knowing it won't help. You just allow him to usher you inside the vehicle and guide you into the driver's seat. There you sit, for hours, waiting for Monty’s arrival, the timer on your wrists counting down minute by minute, hour by hour, until eventually, there’s not enough time to make it to the Island and back. Clarke walks over to where you and Bellamy are when that happens, lifting her wrist, showing off the less than 12 hours that remain. “We have to talk about it.”

Bellamy looks back at you, and then over to her. “We missed the window, continue on to the island, we won't make it back.”

You nod towards Murphy and Emori, sitting together in the snow. “What about them? Do we just save ourselves? Because if we go back to Polis, there likely isn't a spot for them in that bunker.”

Clarke turns to look at you, watching you carefully, looking for any signs of radiation poisoning. Bellamy does the same, his worry still present, and Clarke glances over at him. “If Nightblood works, we need to get her to Polis. Them, too. We pull in as many people as we can before the death wave hits. If our mom can make us all Nightbloods, we only need to stay down there until it passes. We can still save everyone.”

You deadpan, “Just not Raven.”

The conversation ends when the rover pulls up, finally arriving to take you to your next destination. Monty and Harper jump out, and you wait to see Jasper, hoping that he changed his mind too. But he never appears, and you don't get the chance to contemplate what that means, because Monty makes a beeline for you, Bellamy, and Clarke. “We got here as fast as we could.”

It takes a second for him to register the lack of helmet on your head, but as soon as he does, he’s reaching out for you, trying to pull you to the rover. “You're exposed. Come on, let's get you into the rover.”

You wave him off, “No, Monty. I'm fine.”

Harper turns back towards the rover and yells, “I'll grab the extra helmet.”

You watch her leave, and Murphy suddenly walks past, half carrying, half guiding Emori to the back of the rover. “Guys, come on. Planet ain't getting any less irradiated.”

Echo starts to stumble past, following the couple, and Bellamy reaches out for her, catching her as she nearly falls. You feel a tinge of jealousy as she wraps her arm around him, but the moment is interrupted by Harper running back towards you. “The helmets don't match, I brought the whole suit.”

Monty takes the case from her hands, and nods over to Echo. “I got this, help the others into the Rover.”

You’re thankful for him breaking apart Echo and Bellamy, as irrational as it is, and you open your mouth to say something to him, surprised when a cough pulls to the surface instead. You cough hard, eyes widening in alarm when you feel liquid move up your throat, and you cough and spit into the snow, looking at the black liquid staining the bright landscape. You look up at Bellamy in alarm, and you see him panic a little, reaching out towards you. Clarke appears on your other side, grabbing your hand in comfort, and Monty holds the suit out towards you. “You need to put on the suit. It was for Jasper, at least now it'll do some good. Jasper would want you to. If we're still gonna make it to the island, we better-”

Bellamy cuts him off, “We're not going to the island.”

You turn to look at him, already making the decision in your head. “Yes, we are.”

He turns to look at you, surprised, ready to argue. “Natshana…”

“Nightblood doesn't work.”

His worry deepens, and he looks at you like he’s ready to convince you, and himself, of something. “We don't know that yet. Luna got sick before she got better.”

You shake your head, “Even if you're right, they won't let us all into the bunker if I'm still sick. It took days for Luna's resistance to kick in, and by that time, the death wave will already be here, and all our friends will be dead. Are you okay with that?”

His expression softens, “You know I'm not. But, unless I am missing something, there is no other way for all of us to survive.”

Clarke, always one step ahead of the rest of you, asks, “What if there is?”

You all turn to look at her, not understanding. “What are you talking about?”

“Space.”

As soon as she says it, you’re all in agreement, and you take off towards the rover, jumping inside, the time crunch ever present. You explain the plan to the others along the way, and they seem more than okay with it, given the unlikely fact any of them would be allowed in the bunker. 

It doesn't take long before you reach the boat, and ride it over to the island, struggling slightly from the clunky suits. As promised, Emori leads all of you through the woods, in the dark, straight to the lab without any problems, any hesitations, any missteps. You all file inside, one by one, stopping on the platform at the top of the stairs, looking down at a solitary figure in the middle of the lab. Her back is to you, staring at the Praimfaya countdown on the large screens in front of her. When she hears movement behind her, she turns around, looking up at all of you in shock. 

You all pull your helmets off in unison, looking down at Raven, as she shakes her head and starts to question, “What are you doing here?”

You smile at her, “We're not leaving you behind.”

Bellamy leads the way down the stairs, with you right behind him, followed by Clarke, then the others. When he reaches the bottom, he hugs her, but she barely hugs him back, still in shock. He steps away, and you hug her next, stepping back as she asks, “But there's no time to get back.”

You smirk at her, “We're not going back.” 

She looks at you, still confused, and Clarke finishes for you. “We're going up.”

Her confusion turns to shock, and Murphy jokes, “Oh, don't look so surprised. It was all your crazy idea to begin with.” 

“Space?” The rest of your group makes it down the stairs, spreading out slightly as she looks between all of you. “Uh, we don't have enough fuel to get down.”

Harper shrugs, “Sounds like a 5 year problem to me.” 

“You're talking about the ring.”

Bellamy glances over at the rocket, before turning back to your genius friend. “Seems like a shame to let a good rocket go to waste.”

“How do we live?”

Clarke, already prepared for the question, launches into the same speech she gave the rest of you in the rover. “They left a water reclamator there, and we know that Go-Sci has an algae farm. We just get those two things up and running, and we have food and water.”

“Algae salads and recycled urine, Sign me up.”

Emori flashes a look at her boyfriend. “Better than dying.”

“Yeah, you say that now.” 

“All right, slow down.” Raven waves her hand at them, stopping their banter. “Breathing's important, too. What's the plan for oxygen?”

Monty takes over for this one. “Based on what Murphy says about the lighthouse bunker, I'm guessing, make that praying, there's an oxygenator there. We take it with us, you hook it up. Bob's your uncle.”

Raven stares at him, brain still running through the plan, poking holes in it. “You're an engineer, Monty. You do know there's about a thousand things that could go wrong with that plan, right?”

“Yes, and every one of them kills us. Of course, staying here will kill us, too, so…”

He trails off, not sure what else to say to convince her to join you. Because you all know that without Raven, you’ll never get the rocket off the ground, let alone survive in space. Bellamy turns to her, almost pleading. “Raven, we need you to get us off the ground before the death wave hits. What do you say? Can you do it?” 

“What do I say?” She turns to look at the countdown for Praimfaya again, and then over to the rocket. You all wait with bated breath, unsure of her response, until she turns around with a smirk. “I say that the death wave can kiss my ass.”

Clarke smiles and then announces, “Good, it's settled, then. We're going back to the Ark.”

Words you’d never thought you'd hear in your lifetime, but words you’re thankful for, regardless. Maybe this time, things will be better. Maybe this time, everything will work out.

-

next chapter

#the 100 #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #the 100 rewrite #the 100 4x12

[lightcomingthroughthedarkness]

I'm been thinking about Octavia, trying to understand her even if I'm not a fan of hers at all. This show has been hitting us over the head with "there are no good guys" so Octavia shouldn't be any different than other characters.

We still haven't seen what the dark year was about and we still have flashbacks to see in 5x11, so there's obviously still things we don't know but I think Octavia, in her twisted and dark way, took something good and turned it into what they have today in the bunker. Octavia seems to have modelled Wonkru after Lincoln's hope for humanity and it's really sad how she's turned it into something he'd never agree with. Octavia and Lincoln always lived sort of "in between" people. Grounders and Spacekru. It did shape Octavia in many ways and season 4 had so many moments of "what Lincoln would have wanted", "Lincoln would be proud", "we are one clan" etc. It ended with Octavia achieving something she and Lincoln always wanted, for their people to co-exist. I'm not saying they were peaceful and always right, certainly not Octavia, but Lincoln in many ways was and tried to stay true to his beliefs, even if it meant going against his own leader. When Octavia won the conclave, she honored Lincoln by bringing their people together.

We saw in 5x02 that Octavia had no interest in being a leader and people around her were trying to make her see that she was their leader because she had won the conclave. To me, she came across as just a girl, tired of it all but unable to shake the responsibility that had been thrust upon her. In a way, I felt like Octavia thought that her job was done. She won the conclave. She brought them all together. They were going to live in the bunker and all would be well. Evident also from how Octavia just wanted to spar with Niylah rather than go be a leader. Which Jaha then had to help her be. Gaia also affected Octavia, as did Indra and the Ovid. Octavia had to be a leader to a group of people that did not really want her to be and certainly didn't agree with each other. Octavia's people in the bunker that she had saved, were the same people that had the potential to not only kill each other but also ruin the vision of Wonkru. Lincoln's vision. Octavia's entire fight.

But when people started fighting in the bunker and when they started to turn on each other and fight each other, it was as if all Octavia had done to get them together was falling a part in front of her. Apparently, forcing people to live together wouldn't make them one people. What Lincoln had wanted, what Octavia had done after the conclave would have been for nothing. She killed all those warriors in 5x02 while she talked about being ONE PEOPLE. Being the unexperienced leader that she was, she used violence because that is all she knew and she gave the people what they wanted, to fight, while still in a twisted way keeping them all together. But it seems like they never moved away from the violence but rather continued to use it. I obviously don't know what happened during the dark year, so this could all be wrong.

We've seen how Octavia has painted Lincoln's tattoos everywhere in the Bunker. Just like she did on herself in the conclave. He is always with her and what he stood for is something Octavia has been fighting for. It's so tragic that she hasn't been able to do it right. Perhaps she had good intentions, but along the way, she lost her way or never learned a better way to achieve this. Violence is all she knows but if it keeps WonKru together, then she keeps his vision alive. One people together.

When Ec.ho thanked Octavia for saving Azgeda, Octavia lashed out telling her there was ONLY Wonkru now. Acknowledging Azgeda as one group of people is a direct threat to what Octavia has built and still trying to maintain. Octavia did not do everything she did for 6 years, she did not become who she had to become to keep them together for Ec.ho's ass to come back 6 years later and remind Octavia of what is at stake; Wonkru to be weaked and at risk of dissolving. We've also seen that Octavia is not against bringing more people in. She wants people to be Wonkru or they are the enemy. The enemy to Lincoln's vision of having one people. She punishes those who leave because they threaten that vision of staying together as one people. She was willing to trust Bellamy in 5x04 with Eligius because in a twisted way, she seems to expect people to accept Wonkru as one people and the only option. When she saw that Eligius was not going to accept that, she immediately went into fight mode. Since Octavia only knows violence, that is how she deals with it. They threatened the vision so they are the enemy.

Does Octavia really hate her former friends? Or was Octavia being honest when she told Bellamy that she doesn't want anything to happen to his friends, not even Ec.ho but she can't let love and weakness shape her decisions if the price is losing her vision, Lincoln's vision? We know that Octavia is still there, under her armor. Fighting against her love for Bellamy, Indra, the memory of who she used to be (see reuniting with Clarke, waving to Monty). They all stand in a direct threat to the vision. A vision that has been turned into something dark now and not what Lincoln wanted for her or their people.

Just like Bellamy and Clarke are fighting for their people (Spacekru and Madi), Octavia is fighting for her people and desperately doing whatever she can to hold on to that. In a fucked up, twisted way, that seems to be Octavia's way of ensuring that people don't go back to being different people in different groups. That doesn't mean that Octavia isn't also power hungry and damaged and wrong in so many ways. She is. And that is what is so fucking tragic. She took what was supposed to be a good thing; one people living together but the darkness inside her and the darkness around her made her make choices that twisted that hopeful vision into the horror that it is now. A cult. The question is if she can find her way out or if this is going to end in her death. And that would be tragic. To have such a positive vision for the future turn into something so dark and twisted, ending in death and destruction. Parallel that to Kane and Diyoza's hope for the future. They have a vision for the future, a hopeful one where they can all live together. Interesting how Octavia and Diyoza seem to have the same vision as a foundation and motivation but how darkness, PTSD and the past can shape the different ways they believe how they get to peace.

#the 100 #octavia blake #charmaine diyoza

[sometimesrosy]

alright u made good points. solid. but bell didnt forgive her, he was never mad at her because all of s3 and 4 he felt worthless and he thought he deserved the bad treatment. i never had a doubt about him loving his sis NEVER. its her love that i often question. she turns him VERY quickly. she doesnt fight for him like he does for her. and i know what ur gonna say its parent-child relationship. doesnt mean i like and it doesnt mean i like the show condoning or excusing everything she did to him.

Fair enough. he never forgave her because he never thought she needed to be forgiven. you’re right.

And no she doesn’t fight for him the way he fights for her. That’s true, too, not denying it. And you don’t have to like it. It’s part of her characters flaws. So is her selfishness and immaturity. I give her a little break on her immaturity because of the way she was raised and her trauma, just like I gave Jasper a break on his immaturity and selfishness because of his.

Oh that’s a good question. Do you forgive Jasper for what he did and how he treated his friends? He almost made Harper suicide. He destroyed Monty’s heart. He was an ass to all his friends who were already suffering from PTSD themselves. He took the key and was a spy for ALIE. He knew what she was. He took it willingly. 

Because I personally thought as a character Jasper was more interesting when he was being an asshole to everyone than he was when he was a self centered little kid who thought he knew better than everyone in s1 and 2. 

I mean, I wonder what it is that allows us to forgive some characters but not the others. For all that Octavia harmed Bellamy more, she helped everyone else a helluva a lot more than Jasper did.  Fine. She’s a bitch. Not denying it. I would never hang out with her. I do not like her either. And chances are, I didn’t like her a lot earlier than you didn’t like her. Because I never liked her.

But I don’t actually believe that the show condoned or excused how Octavia treated Bellamy. There’s not one character who was okay with that. During the beating they told her to stop and Bellamy wouldn’t let them. Messed up, but not saying it’s okay. And you don’t actually see her having friends after she beat Bellamy, do you? Jasper tried and she pushed him away. She didn’t hug anyone. Kane scolds her. Clarke saved her life because she loves her but she didn’t buddy up with her. Niylah was friends with her, and after they fought it out and screwed it out, Ilian was friends with her. She was isolated from The 100. 

I don’t see the story condoning her behavior. I see it watching her collapse and breakdown and fall apart. Is that condoning? 

She is a mess. She does things that are horrible and NOTED as horrible. This was not so before what she did with Bellamy. They try to USE her dangerous nature to their benefit, and yeah she’s a good killer, but no one suggests she is forgiven or seen as stable or accepted. The OPPOSITE. She’s sent home. Monty (was it monty?) told her she was becoming Pike. NOT condoned. 

This show isn’t going to write a label on her and say “SHE DID A BAD THING” it’s going to point us to how she is out of control, dangerous, not in her right mind, how people don’t trust her anymore, etc. Which is what it did.

It did, however, allow her to work her way back, save the people she hated, get pulled back from the edge of suicide, contribute to the salvation of her people. 

“Good” people don’t exist in this show. This is very important. She didn’t win the conclave because she was a Good Guy. She won it because she was the girl under the floor, and that girl is messed up. And she tried to do what she learned from Clarke and Bellamy and do the right thing. 

And now she gets the bunker. Yikes.

Sucks for her.

#the 100 #octavia blake #redemption arc #or not #gray morality #flawed characters #maybe there are no good guys #the bunker

[alexanderforhire]

A Stranger || Self

He had one chance now ahead of him, a fault would ruin how close he was. Each lead like a jigsaw puzzle that he wasn’t even sure had all the pieces to get to the finished product. One wrong move and whatever piece he laid eyes on could disappear along with the last shred of hope Alexander had clung on to.

But with rumors and a few loose leads, each piece of this puzzle began to fit together. The vampire tried not to question it much, thinking with some supernatural turning that somewhere and somehow some sort of creature of power would have flirted with the idea of reversing it. 

Again, it started on no more than idle rumors of centuries past of a coven of witches that held such secrets in their attempt to purge the unnatural venom of vampires from the bodies of the damned. It was said to not be of the coven the Conclave had power over, but of an ancient family in the east. But those rumors seemed to have had a wall, now most rumors were that the Conclave had indeed killed that line long ago, and with it, the incantations to reverse a venom’s turning.

So as he began to study into his contacts, one such lead was said to have paid a hefty price for relics and books of the eastern coven, or, at least, items near the area that was destroyed. The Conclave had set out to gain these items, regardless of the origins, but another buyer had won the auction of a handful of these. 

Someone who was political, someone who had gained his wealth through Moloch himself. The bastard demon had his hands in too many cookie jars across the world- and for whatever gain the aim was, this was just some contact Moloch could use at any time. Not that Moloch was close with this one. 

But the puzzle was curious and if this lead was fruitful, this could very well be the answer that had been lost. The woman he had hunted was the only one close enough to have such a personal connection that he even trusted, one small hint of danger and this man would’ve disappeared and with it, the book he was after. 

The place was unassuming. An old fisheman’s pub on the docks, wall to wall with drunken sailors, dockworkers and a handful of whores that rubbed shoulders for an easy night’s work and a cheap meal. The place was drab and dark, everything dim and cold-looking except for the warm chowder that filled bowls at nearly every occupied table and the alcohol that filled the bellies of every soul in attendance. 

Alexander was alone in a corner, drinking the same watered-down beers and sipping spoonfuls of the slop they called chowder. His ears picked up every conversation, every person walking in and out of the building. This was supposed to be the place, he thought, the pub on the docks that the buyer would be at. That book, that suspected cure, was in his reach and all he had to do was take it from the buyer. 

The door flew open and some men came in speaking their native language. Alexander knew one of them was the man who was acquiring the book, but the power the man gave off sent chills down his back. Alexander had met his kind only a couple times before, each time was gambling with his life. Luckily, Alexander had gotten the upper-hand, but it had shaken him up.

He listened carefully and didn’t make any sudden moves, just listening and drinking his beer. The group’s Mandarin was hard to follow, suspecting it was broken with some sort of eastern vampiric dialect. But a few words ebbed their way into his understanding. And with that, Alexander left money on the table and made his way out.

Watching the crates come off the ship, Alexander knew he was in the right place. The book in question was being relocated along with a few other choice relics within one of them. Yet he was patient to keep looking, watch and wait for the right one to be dropped off to the warehouse below him. 

Hours passed, deep within the night as finally everything was moved and the dock workers were leaving for the next few hours until morning. Alexander swiftly moved into the warehouse and began searching the enormous crates for the buyer’s sigil. 

Rows and rows of goods filled the crates that created vast hallways to search. He was quiet, stealthed in the dark as he kept looking. All was quiet in here, but then that all stopped. Alexander pressed his back against a crate and listened. It was like ethereal whispering, overlapping in his head. Some creature was looking for him, the buyer. The eastern vampire. 

Alexander tried to keep calm, but he knew that silence alone couldn’t hide himself. These vampires fed off more than blood, but the energy within others, usually leaving only a dark husk of the victim. They didn’t need to be so close to feed off the energy, following not scent, but feeling of others. Readying his weapons, he knew he had to be faster then them, and each hit must be to kill. 

With one quick move, one fell off the crate as he caught him, lowering him to the floor as the attacker crumbled quietly to dust. But the discorded whispering lingered as another neared. Alexander quickly turned on his heel, another falling dead and into ash within the second. 

The assassine  leapt silently to the top of crates, crouching and searching for the other he could sense in the space. They were close, but Alexander couldn’t seem to lock onto where this other was. Was he in front or in back of him? Above or below? Near or far?

Suddenly, a sharp pain filled his head as all went dark.

Alexander began to look around, feeling himself bound as chains began to clink lightly at his wrists. He could barely see, his vision seeming to fail him. 

“You- You’re the assassine I hear so much about. You’re the reason I am careful, yeah? I heard what happened to Veronika. You know she was taping that whole thing with you? Yes, yes, you knew, you probably thought it wouldn’t get to me, yeah? But I found it. And yes, yes, I listened to it. So, yes, I figured you were waiting for my fortune to be here tonight so you can come steal my things. Actually, that book. Why do you want it so bad? Power? Money? Fame?”

Whatever he could see was blurry and faint, but the whispers continued.

“You fucked with the wrong person, assassine. And now, you will rot at the bottom the the Pacific Ocean. But not before I eat. It would be a big waste to let you die without eating such an old energy.”

There. He could feel it, a damning and daunting feeling as he felt weaker and weaker by the second. The eastern vampire was so close, it was although the buyer was sucking his essence from the air just over his skin.

Alexander shifted his tongue in his mouth, pressing something against the side of his cheek and feeling it bust open. Then, he spitted it right into the buyers face, knowing it was a success as the weakness stopped, the buyer thudding on the ground. 

WIthin a few minutes, Alexander’s vision returned. His strength returned. And now he could see himself chained inside one of the enormous crates- and that’s when he knew that the eastern vampire had severely underestimated the assassine.

#self #a stranger

[officialpeebee]

Lament

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Pairing: m!Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus Word Count: 5110 Commissioned by: @tessa1972​

David leant against the rail of the ship, looking out at the water that churned and broke against the prow. The Waking Sea was grey as steel, its dim colour a mirror to the clouds that gathered overhead. If they were lucky the storm would not break for a day or so. David was not feeling especially lucky, however. He would not have been surprised if thunder began to rumble above them within the hour.

They had boarded at Jader two days before, after a long, difficult ride from Skyhold. Winter had settled upon the mountains and the rocky passes were even more difficult to navigate than usual. David could have covered ground more swiftly if he had travelled alone, but he had insisted upon staying with the wagon for the entire journey. The cargo was too precious to be guarded by anyone else. It was his responsibility. His burden.

The box was ensconced in the passenger quarters now, only a wall separating it from where David slept. The crew had attempted to stow it in the belly of the ship at first, among coils of rope and stacked crates of merchandise. David’s outburst at that had frightened the younger hands half to death, and they gave him a wide berth when they passed him on the deck. He did not care. He had no wish to speak with them.

As he stared out across the choppy waters David tried to remember how long it had been since he was last aboard a ship. It surprised him to realise that it had been on his journey to the conclave, a merchant vessel making the crossing from Ostwick to Highever. He had thought then that it would be mere weeks until he returned to the Free Marches. Yet over a year had passed, and so much had changed, and only now was he making his return.

So caught up was he in his thoughts that he barely noticed Dorian walking up behind him. When the mage placed a hand upon his shoulder he started, jerking away from the touch.

“I’m sorry,” Dorian said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright,” David replied. “My mind was elsewhere.”

“Hardly surprising, given the circumstances.” There was boundless sympathy in Dorian’s eyes. David could hardly bear it.

“If the weather holds we should reach Ostwick by tomorrow morning,” he said, desperate to speak of anything else. “Though it looks like rain.”

Dorian cast his eyes up to the darkening sky. “It certainly does,” he said. “But I doubt you really want to talk about the weather, Amatus. You’ve barely said a word about any of this since we left Skyhold. It’s not good for you, keeping things like this locked up. I should know.”

The mage reached for his hand, but David moved deliberately away from him. “Not now,” he said. “The current is no good for me. I need to get some sleep.”

He refused to meet Dorian’s eyes as he walked away. It was petty of him, but he knew he could not keep his composure under the look that the mage would be giving him. Instead he went to the lower deck and lay on his narrow bunk, feeling his stomach lurch as the ship rolled beneath him.

The Inquisition had won a major victory the day before the messenger had come. David and his companions had finally managed to seize a stronghold in the Hinterlands, a tactical position that Cullen had been coveting for months. It had been hard, bloody work, clearing out the bandits who infested the place like cockroaches, but in the end they had prevailed.

They received a hero’s welcome upon their return to Skyhold. Josephine had organised a small banquet with her usual efficiency, and the wine had been flowing freely. Food was served, stories were told, endless toasts were made. Everyone’s spirits were high, and David’s more than most. He was surrounded by his friends, the Inquisition was gaining strength by the day, and he had Dorian beside him. Things were as perfect as they had been in a long time.

David and Dorian retired early that night, ignoring the jibes of their companions as they made their way out of the main hall and up to their quarters. They had fallen upon one another the minute they walked through the chamber door, wine-stained lips meeting clumsily in the darkness. Hours later they slept, and when they woke their appetites were no less sated.

They did not know then that a messenger had arrived at Skyhold, and was already speaking hurried words to the soldier on the gate. All they knew then was each other, exchanging fervent touches as the sun rose over the Frostbacks. So tangled up were they in their passions that they did not hear the footsteps on the stair outside, or the voices in the hall. Only a sharp knock on the chamber door broke them from their reverie.

Eventually, reluctantly, David got up to answer it. The moments after that were hazy.

The next thing he remembered clearly was sitting on the cold marble of the balcony, the thin blanket around his shoulders doing little to keep off the winter chill. Dorian stood silently nearby, his fingers trembling where they gripped the balustrade. He seemed to be anchoring himself there, as if he did not know what his hands would do if they were unoccupied.

David could do nothing but look out across the yawning void of the valley, his eyes vacant and dull. He kept running through what the messenger had told him, unable to process any of it. A rescue mission gone wrong. Templars caught in the crossfire. One had been killed. David could not reconcile Ser Rheda, the dead Templar, with Rheda, his sister. It could not be right. A mistake must have been made somewhere. He had not even known that she was close to Skyhold. Somewhere in a far corner of his mind, a voice whispered at him. She must have been coming to see you, it said. If it wasn’t for you she’d still be alive.

“I have to go to Ostwick.” David started, as though he had not been expecting himself to speak. His voice, usually so low and calm, broke on the last word.

Dorian looked at him, mouth slightly open. He looked as if he wanted to say something but did not know where to start.

“I have to go to Ostwick,” David repeated, as though saying it could make it more real somehow. “I have to go to Ostwick-” he choked on the statement, his voice a mixture of anger and almost childlike fear.

His lover walked over to him then, wrapping his arms around David and pulling him to his feet. David stumbled, but Dorian managed to keep him upright. His hands were firm where they gripped his shoulders, and he looked into David’s eyes as he spoke.

“You don’t have to go alone,” he said quietly. “We can go together. If you don’t mind, of course.”

David felt relief wash over him. It eased his heart, just a little. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak aloud.

Dorian nodded at him, then made a face. “That means a sea voyage, I suppose.” His tone was breezy, but a little strained. It was obvious that he was attempting to turn David’s mind from his grief, futile as his efforts might be. “Kaffas, but I hate the ocean. Deep and damp and full of horrors. Well, can’t be helped. I’d swim across it if you needed me to, Amatus.”

His monologue forced half a smile out of David, who leaned forward to kiss Dorian and end his tirade. “I know,” he said. “And I’m forever grateful for it.”

They had departed for the port at Jader later that afternoon. The Inquisition’s advisors assured David that they would be able to handle things in his absence, and urged him to take care on his journey. The messenger had shown them where the surviving Templars were camped, a few miles to the north of Skyhold. David met them there in person, to collect Rheda’s remains and offer them shelter in his halls. The Templars were grateful for his assistance, and spoke in glowing terms of his sister’s dedication to her cause. David wished that they hadn’t. He did not want to dwell on thoughts of Rheda.

Dorian did his best to comfort David during the long days of travel, but David found himself pushing back against the mage’s consolations more often than not. The guilt he felt for Rheda’s death crept up on him slowly, consuming him by degrees. By the time they boarded the ship to Ostwick he would barely speak to anyone. Bitterness festered in him, and every kind word felt undeserved.

It was early afternoon when David was awoken by one of the deckhands shouting that they were ready to dock. He rose, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and made his unsteady way up to the deck. The storm was about to break, and the first cold rains were lashing the ship. David shivered, pulling his coat closer around himself as the silhouette of Ostwick materialised out of the mist. The great double-walled city rose up from the cliffside, the overcast sky turning the grey stone almost black.

David insisted on helping the sailors carry Rheda’s casket from the ship onto the waiting wagon. They insisted that the Inquisitor need not trouble himself with such menial work, but one look from him silenced their protests. Dorian lent his strength too, though his help was unnecessary. David knew it was a gesture more than anything, a reassurance that the mage would support him even through his silence.

The Trevelyan retinue that David had been expecting was nowhere to be seen. Only one of his relatives had come down to the docks with the servants, and she stepped forward to embrace David as soon as Rheda’s casket had been loaded onto the wagon.

“David,” Fae said, her voice thick in her throat. “You came swiftly.”

“I left as soon as I was able.” David hugged his eldest sister tightly, unmindful of the rain that soaked them both. “Maker, Fae, I didn’t know what else to do.”

Fae took a step back, holding her brother at arm’s length. “There is nothing more you could have done. Come, let’s go home. You must be freezing.”

David nodded in acquiescence, then caught sight of Dorian out of the corner of his eye. Ashamed by his momentary lapse in manners, he gestured for the mage to come and join them. “Fae, this is Dorian. Dorian, my sister, Fae.”

“It’s good to meet you.” Fae stepped forward and clasped Dorian’s hand warmly. “David has spoken of you in his letters, of course.” She paused, then turned to David. “I do keep meaning to reply. Things have been hectic in Antiva, though I suppose that’s no great excuse.”

“It’s fine,” David said. “You’re here now.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” Dorian said to Fae. “Though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Quite.” Fae cast her eyes down. “Come now. Mother and Father will be waiting.”

David and Dorian followed Fae into a waiting carriage, and they began the trundling ascent up the road to Ostwick. The three of them sat in silence, none of them wishing to broach the subject of Rheda’s death. David was thankful for that. He was not yet prepared to think about it, and especially not when a reunion with his parents was impending. A knot of anxiety had settled in his stomach at the thought of it.

The carriage passed through the great gates of the city, and wound its way through the cobbled streets towards the Trevelyan estate. The rain had stripped the usual scents of fish and saltwater from the air, and the open markets were quiet and empty. Ostwick felt like a different city to the one David remembered. Perhaps much had changed since he had departed. Perhaps he was the one who had changed.

Eventually the carriage pulled up outside the steps of David’s childhood home. He climbed out, taking a long breath to ground himself, and he and Dorian followed Fae as she made her way up towards the entrance.

His parents were waiting for them in the hall. David’s father, Bann Fagen, looked older than he remembered. His face was deeply lined, and there was more white than grey in his hair now. Beside him stood Valerie, David’s mother. She wore black for mourning, and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. He had not seen either of them for years.

David stopped a few paces away from them, not sure what he could say. They had rarely been affectionate towards one another before. To start now seemed wrong, somehow.

“Father,” he said. “Mother. I am so sorry.” The words felt empty even as he said them.

“Sorry won’t bring Rheda back,” Fagen said, his voice hoarse. “Did you bring her with you?”

David nodded. “Of course.”

He sniffed. “That’s something.”

“It’s been so long, David,” Valerie cut in. “Would that you had come home sooner. We’ve heard nothing but rumours since the conclave. Rheda had been gone almost as long-” She put her hand to her mouth, silencing a sob.

“I am so sorry, Mother,” David said. He could feel his own tears coming. “Truly, I am. You know how I loved her.”

Valerie, unable to speak further, merely nodded. Beside her, Fagen had turned his attention to Dorian. “And who is this?” he asked.

David steeled himself. He had known this was coming. “Lord Dorian Pavus, of Minrathous.” He paused for half a breath. “My companion.”

“You bring a Tevinter into our home?” Bann Fagen asked, his eyes widening. “Maker’s breath, boy-”

“House Pavus, you say?” Valerie interjected quickly. “I believe we share some relations, do we not? I was Lady Bhradain, before marriage.”

Dorian made a small, formal bow towards her. “Indeed we do, my Lady. I believe one of my forebears married into the Bhradain line generations ago.”

David marvelled at his mother’s masterful handling of the situation. Bann Fagen could not do insult to Dorian’s heritage again without causing offence to his lady wife. Valerie had always been a true diplomat, and time had not dulled her wits. David was deeply grateful for her assistance. While he was sure that she would not exactly approve of his relationship, her desire for domestic harmony would eventually win out above all else.

Luckily, the house steward chose that moment to arrive. He took their luggage and showed them to their rooms, speaking to David as though he were a guest in the house and not a member of the family.

David was strangely relieved that he and Dorian had been placed in rooms on opposite sides of the west wing. It would be easier for him to keep his distance that way. He did not know himself where this desire for isolation had come from, and he did not think he could explain it adequately if he was asked. Better to chalk it up to propriety for now.

David bathed and changed in his chamber, grateful for the warm water and dry clothes. The room he had been put up in was not the one he had inhabited before leaving Ostwick. He imagined that his suite had been reassigned to some visiting noble, or repurposed for some other use. He was not surprised by the lack of sentimentality. His father had done the same when Rheda had joined the Templars.

At that thought David was overcome with a wave of grief, and had to lean against the wall to steady himself. For a while he had been able to ignore his reasons for being there, to pretend that it was simply a long-overdue visit. The funeral would be soon, he realised, perhaps as soon as the following day. He could not pretend for much longer.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of tension and silence. The family ate together, seated far away from one another around the dining hall’s central table. Fae’s husband Rosco made several attempts to engage the Trevelyans in conversation, but each time their exchanges were brief and stilted. David felt bad for the man. Lord Rosco was a kind man, and his Antivan warmth was ill-suited to the emotional austerity of a Marcher household. He and Dorian got along well, however, and David was relieved when the two of them began to talk between themselves.

The only break in the tension occurred when David’s sister Leah arrived. She lived as a lay sister in a Chantry near Markham, and the news of Rheda’s death had taken a while to reach her. Leah was open in her grief, embracing her family in turn and weeping openly over their loss. It was a balm, David felt, to have someone so frankly acknowledge why they had come together. It lanced their shared pain, allowing some of the hurt to drain away.

They all retired early that night, exhausted by the day and dreading what tomorrow would bring. The funeral would begin in the morning. David did his best not to think of it as he lay alone in his bed, staring up at the canopy. His efforts were for naught. Hours passed before sleep finally found him.

***

It took a moment for David to remember, when he awoke. For a brief second he thought himself still in Skyhold, and he turned to speak to Dorian beside him. When he found himself alone everything came back; he was in Ostwick, and today was his sister’s funeral.

If anything the silence was worse over breakfast than it had been at dinner the previous night. None of the gathered group could bring themselves to eat, and even Rosco was quiet as the servants cleared full platters of food from the table. Eventually Bann Fagen announced that it was time to leave for the Chantry.

Dorian caught David’s shoulder as the family filed out of the estate. “Are you alright?” he said. “I’ve barely seen you since we arrived.”

“I wish we didn’t have to be here at all,” David replied. “Maker, Dorian, but I hate it here. I would leave Ostwick today if I could.”

“I know.” Dorian took his hand and squeezed it briefly. “It won’t be long, Amatus. I promise you that.”

David managed a smile. “I know,” he said. “Is this your first time at a Marcher funeral?”

Dorian nodded.

“They’re long affairs,” David sighed. “Pious. Pointless. A Revered Mother who barely knew Rheda will extol her virtues, and every relative from here to Orlais will try and use the loss to gain traction with my father.”

“Tevinter funerals are not so different,” Dorian said. “The nobility is the same almost everywhere. No tragedy is above manipulation.”

“Unfortunately so,” David said. He walked in silence for a moment, turning something over in his head, before speaking again. “It would mean a lot if you would take the place beside me, today.”

Dorian frowned at him. “That is traditionally reserved for family spouses, is it not?”

“It is,” David conceded. “And I would have you there.”

“I… don’t know what to say to that,” Dorian said quietly. “Apart from to accept, of course. I will do whatever you need to make this easier.”

“I don’t know about easier,” David said. “Father isn’t going to like it, that’s for certain.”

The funeral was exactly as David had expected it would be. A room full of strangers pretending to mourn. It felt false, somehow, like a dream. He could not cry, could not feel grief at all. This was nothing to do with Rheda.

Chantry sisters burned incense and sang canticles, and all the time David could feel his father’s eyes burning into him. His capacity for caring was running out. As the Revered Mother instructed them to bow their heads in prayer, David reached across to take Dorian’s hand in his.

There was a wake at the estate once the funeral was over, and most of the mourners went with the family when they returned. David was dreading this more than the funeral itself. Everyone there knew of his new title, and he had already heard people whispering about the Inquisition. He did not want to spend the day dealing with nobles who wished to court his favour. He could imagine nothing worse.

When they arrived back at the estate Bann Fagen pulled David to one side. “I need to speak with you.”

“Is there something you need?” David asked.

“What were you thinking?” Fagen hissed, shaking his head. “Bringing the Tevinter with you, keeping him beside you today of all days. People are already talking, boy. Your antics with the Inquisition have caused rumour enough without this.”

David forced himself to remain calm. “People may say what they wish, father. I came here to bring my sister home, and to say farewell to her. Nothing else concerns me.”

“It should,” Fagen said. “You are my heir now, boy. The future of our line rests on you. Does our family name mean nothing to you?”

“Not especially,” David shrugged. His patience was worn thin. “I never asked for this, father. I never wanted it. Give it to a cousin, for all I care. If you’ll excuse me.” He walked away, leaving his father gaping after him. David was sure there would be consequences for his impudence, but at that moment it mattered little.

He found Dorian at the side of the room, watching the gathered party.

“That didn’t look like it went well,” Dorian said.

“It didn’t,” David said. “But no matter. It’s done now. Maker’s blood, I need a drink.”

Dorian produced a glass of wine from the table beside him and handed it over. “I thought you might.”

“Thank you.” David placed a grateful hand on Dorian’s shoulder as he drank. “Honestly, Dorian, I couldn’t have done this without you here.”

“Then it’s a good thing I came along, isn’t it?” he grinned. “Ah. I believe we’re about to be intercepted.”

David looked up to see Leah approaching them, her head bowed low as she weaved past distant relatives attempting to catch her attention. When she drew closer to her brother she looked up and met his eye. “Follow me,” she whispered.

Exchanging a curious glance, David and Dorian did as they were told. Leah slipped into a side passage and led them up a set of servant’s stairs. They climbed for what seemed like forever, until finally Leah stopped outside a heavy door. She pushed it open, and the three of them walked inside.

The room beyond was a small library, much neglected. The shelves were dusty, and the floor had not been swept in some time. Fae and Rosco were already there, sitting at a small table by the fire. They raised their glasses in greeting as David entered the room.

“Come in,” Fae said. “We thought you might need a break. Maker knows I did.”

“I remember this room,” David said, pulling up a seat beside her. “Rheda practically lived in here when she was a child.”

“We thought it would be appropriate,” Leah said. “The Chantry rites serve a purpose, of course. She had been delivered to the Maker now. But there are some ways only we can mourn.”

As if on cue, Rosco produced several bottles of dark wine from beneath the table. “From my own vineyards. If we drink to Rheda, we should do it well.”

“A man after my own heart,” Dorian said, taking a seat next to David. “If you don’t mind me participating in the toast?” He trailed off, making it a question.

“Of course not,” Fae said seriously. “You’re family now.”

Leah nodded. “Don’t let our father concern you. He is set in his ways. If David has welcomed you in, then so will we.”

David felt his throat grow tight. He associated home so closely with his parents that he often forgot how much he missed the rest of his family. Rheda was the third sibling they had lost. Sometimes it was too difficult to be around those who had survived, knowing who was gone. Yet he loved them anyway, and they him. He raised his glass. “To Rheda,” he said.

“To Rheda,” they echoed.

David would remember that evening until the end of his days. He and his siblings had talked for hours, drinking wine and sharing stories about their sister. They laughed, and cried, and paid tribute to her in a way that the somber group below could never manage. Fae and Leah welcomed Dorian into the fold, and he spoke animatedly with them long into the evening. As the night wore on David put his arm about Dorian’s shoulders, and did not feel uncomfortable doing so. He had been accepted by the people who mattered. That was enough.

They retired late, and David woke tired but content in the morning. He could not say that he was happy - Rheda’s death still weighed too heavily upon him for that - but he felt that he had done well by her, returning home and reconnecting with his remaining siblings. There were few enough of them left, and he knew from now on the three Trevelyan children would be closer than they were before.

There was still uncomfortable business to be taken care of, however. He sat in a terse meeting with his father where they discussed what would be done with Rheda’s share of the estate, and dealt with the innumerable other small things that must be done before he could return to Skyhold.

After what seemed like forever, all was done. David arranged passage back to Orlais as soon as he was able, longing to return to the place he now considered home. His farewells with his parents were short and formal, but Leah, Fae and Rosco came to wave him off at the docks. Leah and Fae both embraced Dorian warmly when they said their goodbyes, and Rosco pressed a crate of fine Antivan red onto David as a parting gift. To David’s surprise, he felt a pang of regret that he must leave so soon. Of all the things he had expected to feel upon leaving Ostwick, that was not one of them.

The weather had cleared somewhat since their first voyage, and the return journey went swiftly. It helped that David was once again comfortable having Dorian close to him. The days at sea and on horseback were easier to bear now that he could speak frankly to the mage of how he was feeling. Dorian listened attentively to David’s anecdotes about Rheda, never interrupting or turning the conversation to happier things. David chastised himself for not opening up sooner. Every word he spoke allowed him to heal a little more.

Finally they saw the shape of Skyhold in the distance, and a few hours later they were crossing the great bridge to the castle gates. A cry of greeting went up from the soldiers on the battlements, and when the portcullis lifted David rode through to find the rest of his companions waiting for him in the courtyard. They greeted him and Dorian happily, each one delighted to see them safely back. A small homecoming feast had been arranged in the great hall, and David sat down to it happily.

“You missed quite a bit, Inquisitor,” Cullen said. “We’ve made some unexpected inroads in the Western Approach. You should see the reports as soon as possible.”

“Give the man a chance to breathe, Cullen,” Josephine said, swatting the commander’s arm. “He’s been back less than an hour. Let him rest.”

“How was it returning to Ostwick?” Cassandra asked David. “I never relish trips back to Nevarra myself.”

“Better than I expected,” David said, helping himself to more wine. “But not by much.”

Varric chuckled at that. “Ostwick isn’t exactly the most exciting city in the Free Marches,” he said. “You should stop by Kirkwall next time.”

“What, Qunari invasions and exploding Chantries?” Sera said, flicking a chicken bone at him. “Yeah, dead exciting. Proper party.”

“You found something there,” Cole said, turning his eerie gaze on David. “Unlooked for, unexpected. Three died, three survived. A family within a family.”

Varric placed his hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Kid, what did we talk about?”

“Don’t be creepy,” Cole said, looking down at his plate.

“That’s right,” Varric nodded, clapping him on the back. “Don’t worry. You’ll get there.”

David found himself speaking little that evening. Instead he watched his companions around the table, talking, shouting, arguing. The mismatched folk he had brought together did not always see eye to eye, but there was an undeniable bond there. They were a family, he realised suddenly. His family, in a way that those he shared blood with were not. There was a reason that returning to Skyhold had felt like coming home, and returning to Ostwick had not. He loved his sisters, it was true, but even with them he did not feel as comfortable as he did with the Inquisition. He smiled at the thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dorian asked, seeing the look on his face.

“Not a lot,” David said. “I’m just glad to be home, that’s all.”

Dorian returned his smile. “I thought as much. It’s good to see you happy again, Amatus.”

The night was winding down, and people were starting to excuse themselves from the table. David and Dorian rose together, without a word needing to pass between them. They climbed the stairs to David’s chamber in silence, fingers intertwined, and when they reached the bedroom David pulled the mage close. He kissed him without restraint for the first time in weeks, and with that felt the last bit of tension he had been carrying dissipate. Dorian, more than anything else, was both family and home to him.

When they finally broke apart David sighed, and rested his forehead against Dorian’s. “Thank you for coming with me,” he said. “I don’t know if I could have done this without you.”

“It was no trouble. I liked your sisters.” He paused for a moment before speaking again. “I wish I could have met Rheda.”

“As do I,” David swallowed. “I’ll tell you more about her, one day. But not now. I don’t want to think of it now. I want to forget, for a while.”

Dorian smiled, and closed the space between him. “That, Amatus, I can help with.”

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