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chapter fifteen!
THE PARTY AT THE
END OF THE WORLD
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━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

ARES HAS ALWAYS loved Unity Day. Classes were always canceled on the first of October, allowing students, teachers, their parents, and everyone in-between to participate in the Ark's festivities. Every year, the Unity Day pageant was held in Alpha Station, and every year, a handful of children were forced to hold up different flags representing the twelve nations that came together to form the Ark. One year, Ares had been chosen to hold up the Venezuelan flag. He'd cursed under his breath in Spanish the entire time, which had earned him a harsh scolding from his mother later, but it had been worth it.

The annual dance was the best part of the night. Every year, there was a different theme. At the last one Ares had attended before he'd been arrested, the theme had unironically been Under the Stars. He recalls the corridors being draped in silver that reflected from the countless windows overlooking outer space. It had taken him approximately five minutes to catch the eye of a girl he doesn't remember the name of. She'd stared at him for nearly the entire night, which ended with them both entwined in a utility closet.

Yeah. Ares thinks of his last Unity Day as a free man with fondness.

But now, this one might beat that one for the sheer fact they're on the ground. As the day shifts to the afternoon, the air is still crisp with the autumnal weather that October brings. He breathes deeply, admiring the cold breeze entering his lungs and the sound of leaves crunching underfoot as the delinquents mill around camp. A few of them are watching the pageant on the monitor they'd previously used for conferences with their parents. Nate had dragged him and Kiernan along to make fun of the pageant, but Ares is only half-listening to Jaha drone on while Kiernan listens with rapt attention.

"This is a historic Unity Day," the Chancellor states from the Ark, the poor connection from space to the ground making his dark complexion seem washed-out and grainy as the feed glitches every few seconds. "Every year, we mark the moment our ancestors of the twelve stations joined to form the Ark, but this is the last time we do so aboard her. Next year... on the ground."

His words are met with thunderous applause from the Ark that makes Ares wince as they almost blow out the speakers. The knife he'd been using to clean underneath his fingernails slides when he jumps, slicing open the calloused skin of his right hand's ring fingertip. He hisses, instantly bringing the digit to his mouth to run his tongue over the blood forming there. Kiernan momentarily tears his gaze from the monitor to give him a concerned look.

"Right," Nate scoffs in response to Jaha's words, ignoring Ares' newly-gained injury. "After we did all the work. Someone shut him up."

"You shut up, Miller," Raven retorts without missing a beat. "No one's forcing you to watch."

She has a point— Nate had been the one to bring Ares and Kiernan over here, and he mostly wants to hear himself talk.

"Don't get too mad, Reyes," Ares drawls, nonchalantly applying pressure to his injured finger to stop the bleeding. He shoots a smirk at his friend. "Nate's favorite sound is his own voice."

Nate mirrors his expression of amusement. "Actually, I like the sound of yours better, Res."

"I'm telling Bryan."

"Can both of you shut up?" Kiernan grumbles. "I'm tryna watch and I can't hear anything over you two arguing."

"Oh, come on, Kier," Nate chuckles with an unbothered roll of his eyes. "It's not like you haven't heard this a million times already."

The blond boy doesn't respond, instead choosing to keep his stare locked on the screen without acknowledging the dark-skinned boy. His jaw is tense and shifted to one side. Ares has scarcely seen him with that much determination on his freckled face, which leads him to believe that whatever reason for his annoyance is an important one.

Ares is about to continue pretending to listen to Jaha's speech again when he notices Raven shift and an abrupt tension plagues their small group. His gaze follows hers and stops once it reaches where Clarke stands with Collins near the dropship. Collins' dark brows are pinched together, an air of distaste on his pale features as he regards the monitor. Clarke's hands are shoved into the pockets of her navy bomber jacket. They appear to have been engaged in a casual conversation — probably one of Collins' stupid peacekeeping tirades about how Unity Day is a sham because the Ark only came together after the thirteenth station was blown to bits — but she walks away as soon as she notices Raven's stare.

Collins catches Ares' eye for a moment. The irked expression on the long-haired boy's face doesn't change, but Ares lets a sliver of emotion crack through his guard. It's a warning— letting Collins know that he knows what's going on between the three of them.

Then he strolls closer to Raven, still pinching the wounded part of his finger together, and stops right beside her. "So, what was the best Unity Day dance you've ever been to?"

But he never finds out the answer to his question, because as soon as it leaves his mouth, Jasper bursts from a nearby tent with a vicious cry of, "WOOOOO! YEAH!"

Ares turns to see the boy standing on a higher portion of ground with his goggles on and a tankard of something in his other hand. He lifts the goggles over his tousled raven locks, exposing the excitement shining in his eyes.

"Monty strikes again!" he exclaims, carefully making his way down the steep slope so he doesn't slip on the loosely-packed dirt. "Call this batch Unity Juice. Who's thirsty?"

An enthused cry rises up from the previously bored crowd. A swarm of teenagers crowds around Jasper, handmade cups and metal water bottles eagerly waiting to be filled with alcohol. But among the chatter, a flash of movement catches his eye. Ares watches as Octavia quickly scampers past the oblivious guards at the gate and slips through it with ease.

Ares glares at the Gunners — his own name for their version of the guard — on duty. Sterling had given his gun to Myles and joined the crowd of people still gathered around Jasper. The two other boys are completely distracted, unaware that someone had just snuck past them and gone out into the open.

He probably should warn someone. After all, the first time Octavia had gone missing, Blake had nearly lost his head, but frankly, he doesn't give a shit. Octavia knows about the dangers of the area beyond their camp. If she wants to risk her neck out there without a weapon, it's her fault.

Jaha's voice floats from the speakers and into Ares' ear, catching his attention once again. "To our sons and daughters on Earth listening to this message: we will see you soon. The first Exodus ship will launch in under sixty hours carrying the reinforcements that you need, so stay strong. Help is on the way."

His jaw ticks. He remembers the conversation he'd had with his father the first day they'd gotten that camera to work– or, rather, a lack thereof. It had been more of Castor Ortega speaking at him and then Ares insulting him. Would he be on that ship? Probably not; the Council wouldn't pick a former alcoholic and working-class citizen to be the first group to meet them on the ground. But the mere idea of it happening and him seeing his father again fills him with dread.

Ares needs a drink.

He glances at Nate, who's staring at the monitor with glazed-over eyes that don't seem to be taking anything in. Ares looks down and finds a small rock at his feet. He picks it up with his uninjured dominant hand, then tosses it in the air once before catching it and gently lobbing it at Nate. It hits him in his left biceps. He instantly glances up in bewilderment to find the culprit.

"Hey, pendejo, go make yourself useful and get us some drinks."

Nate continues to look offended. "Why me?"

"Because you made us come over here and watch this," Ares responds. "You owe us. Also, I'll cut holes in your hat while you sleep if you don't."

His friend rolls his eyes but concedes anyway, heading off to find containers for their beverages.

Ares turns toward the place Raven had been standing only moments prior, finding the space empty this time. He turns around and searches for her red jacket among the crowded space, but can't find her anywhere. He frowns. Had it been the sight of Collins with Clarke?

As he turns to face forward again, he notices Kiernan still staring at the screen. He's the only one left. Unlike Nate, his blue eyes are clear and filled with resolve, jaw still locked into that seemingly painful position. His hands are shoved into his pockets, but the illusion of calm doesn't trick Ares, who can see the tensed position of his shoulders.

He walks toward him, his gaze briefly flickering to the screen where the kids are starting to gather with their twelve flags. Ares notices with wry amusement that the boy holding the Venezuela one looks almost as bored as he had all those years ago. Other than that, though, there's nothing particularly interesting about the broadcast, so he can't see a reason why Kiernan is so fixated on it.

"What's up?" he asks as casually as he can. There's still a bit of discomfort in his voice — checking on others' wellbeing still isn't his strong suit — but Kiernan seems too distracted to notice.

"Nothing," the boy grounds out through gritted teeth. His hand fidgets in his pocket: a tell.

Ares remembers the mass of people behind them. Though they're not paying them much attention, a few stragglers are giving Kiernan bewildered looks as they sip Moonshine. They quickly mind their own business once they gatch Ares' cutthroat glare.

So he switches to the language they both know, asking him again, "¿Qué pasa?"

Kiernan swallows, the action so thick and painful that it takes him a moment to speak afterward. "Echo de menos a mi papá."

I miss my dad.

Now Ares understands. Kiernan is searching the feed for any sign of his father — a flash of his hair, a snippet of his voice as he cheers. It seems that they have a decent relationship. Even though Ares' own father is a piece of shit, he does know what it's like to long for a parent.

He claps his hand on the blond's shoulder. "Well, hey, it'll only be a little while longer before they come down. But in the meantime, we've got booze and a bunch of people who want to party. Including me and Nate. You in?"

A beat. And then, "Yeah."

"There ya go." Ares claps his shoulder again, then drops his hand to the side. "And look! There's Nate, right on time."

Nate approaches holding three metal containers of Moonshine in his arms, the sleeves of his jacket soaked. Ares can smell the alcohol before he even accepts one of the canisters.

"Jasper accidentally dumped some on me while he was pouring," Nate explains, passing one to both boys. "Can we toast?"

Ares rolls his eyes fondly. "You sentimental bastard."

Nate ignores this and holds up his Moonshine. "To getting this far without dying, to friendship, and for being the best goddamn looking guys in this entire camp. And also for Bryan, who cannot see my glorious face."

They clink their cups together. Then, faster than any of them, Kiernan knocks back his container and downs the entire thing, his throat bobbing as he chugs. Nate's mouth falls open in shock. Then, once Kiernan can't drink any more because of a lack of oxygen, he straightens up and wipes his mouth with a cringe on his face.

Nate's bewildered gaze meets Ares' own. The curly-haired boy is smirking, the Unity Day pageant resuming behind them, unwatched.

"To the best Unity Day yet," Ares says before taking a sip of his own drink.

Nate follows. So does Kiernan. None of them notice the little girl's Unity Day speech cutting off from behind them, the comms going dead as the monitor cuts to black.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Operation Keep Kiernan Distracted ends up being extremely easy. Though Ares and Nate had cut him off from alcohol while he still had functional limbs so he wouldn't fall into one of the bonfires, the boy doesn't seem to mind the absence of Moonshine. He seems content to watch everyone else having fun despite the threats looming beyond their camp's boundaries.

Twilight had fallen long ago, smothering the camp in darkness that's only softened by the fires strewn around the camp. The delinquents' enthusiasm for the holiday hadn't been deterred by the Ark going silent again. They've only gotten louder, their cheers rising into the night sky as almost everyone welcomes the distraction with open arms.

Keywords: almost everyone. Ares notes that Octavia is still notably absent, Raven is nowhere to be seen, and even Collins has managed to evade his line of sight. Ares ignores these facts to the best of his ability, but he can't help the feeling coiling in his gut that means something is wrong.

Nearly everyone else is oblivious. He, Nate, Kiernan, Clarke, Sterling, and a few others Ares doesn't know are playing a drinking game. It's a miniature version of beer pong that they'd set up on a crate they're using as a table. Instead of cups, they have tiny metal tins that are only big enough to fit an ounce or two of Moonshine. They have to bounce minuscule disks into them. If one person gets it in, another has to drink.

Ares hadn't pegged Clarke for being one to have fun at a time like this. He'd expected her to observe from far away, maybe even complain that they shouldn't be intoxicated while they're at war, but dammit, she's good at this game, rivaling only Ares. Nate had given up on playing long ago. He's busy watching and simultaneously straining to keep Kiernan upright. Even though the blond boy hasn't had too much alcohol, he's definitely drunk and tired due to the late hour.

"How are you so good at this?" a dark-haired boy — Ares thinks he'd heard someone call him Oliver — questions from beside him as another one of Ares' disks makes it into the tin. Sterling takes a drink from it.

"Skill," he responds cockily, then draws his eyebrows in once he realizes that Oliver is actually speaking to him. He turns toward the olive-skinned boy in incredulity.

"Yeah, the Psycho, whatever," Oliver says with a roll of his eyes, understanding the meaning behind his look. "All our crimes were forgiven. In my eyes, it's what you do with this second chance that defines who you are."

Ares nods. "Deep."

"I tend to get philosophical when I'm not sober. And good at reading people." He eyes Ares up and down, a smirk tugging up his full lips. "Well, Ortega? Any secrets worth my time?"

Ares' heart plummets into his chest as he realizes belatedly, 'Oh, shit, Oliver is flirting with me.' He swallows, noticing the tall boy's curious expression and close proximity. His dark hair — brown or black, he can't tell in this lack of proper lighting — sweeps messily over his forehead like he runs his fingers through it too much.

He doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to say.

While his brain is short-circuiting, Nate passes Kiernan to a random guy and grabs Ares' sleeve. He complains incoherently as his friend pulls him to a more secluded area away from the crowds, an unusually serious expression on his face.

"Dude, what the hell?" Ares grumbles, shaking Nate's grip off of his dark green hoodie. He'd tossed his jacket in his tent earlier to allow himself to feel the crisp night air.

"You were about to butcher that social interaction. I could tell," Nate answers. "Look, Res." He places both hands on his shoulders, shaking him a bit. "I'm loyal to Bryan, but you need to wake up and smell the daisies—"

"It's roses."

"Shut up, I'm trying to discipline you so you can get laid," Nate hisses. Ares falls silent. "Look, man, you are hot. Everyone knows it but you. Most of them don't want to do anything about it because they're scared shitless of you, but Oliver clearly isn't. You need to turn on your charm. I'm not allowing any friend of mine to go any longer without kissing someone. What's it been, a year?"

"And a half," Ares corrects, flushing down to his neck because of this conversation about his love life. "I just had you in that cell, remember?"

"Dude, I don't even remember what day it is."

"It's Unity Day."

"Oh, yeah."

"Besides, the whole sleep-deprived-and-malnourished look doesn't seem like the kind to reel 'em in. You're just trying to make me feel better because you want to seem like a good friend."

"I am a good friend," Nate argues with a frown. Then his eyes grow wide as saucers, his hands shaking Ares once again until his head bobbles around stupidly. "Hey, stop sidetracking me! Where was I? You — hot — Bryan — Wow, I miss him —"

"This is taking too long," Ares deadpans, lifting Nate's hands off of his shoulders. "I need to get back before they kick me out of the game. Also, we just abandoned Kiernan while he's drunk, and I'm worried he's going to get punched if he acts like he did after those rations."

Nate snorts at the vision of Kiernan attempting to kiss random strangers. He obediently follows Ares back to the game nonetheless, both boys dodging people dancing and laughing in tightly-knit clusters.

"Ortega," Clarke greets him with a nod. "Just in time. If Kath gets this in, you have to drink."

Ares glances at the dark-skinned girl who holds one of the disks between her thumb and index finger, her eyes trained on the shallow container of Moonshine. She waits for a beat before gently bouncing it on the makeshift table. It hits the edge of the dish, teeters dangerously side to side, then clatters off the edge and back onto the table.

"Sudden death, Ortega," Sterling remarks, sweeping his brunet locks out of his face. "You make it, you win."

Ares grabs the disk from the table. Kiernan gives him an encouraging, half-slurred cheer from the sidelines. He glances up, coincidentally catching Oliver's eye, who gives him a tug of his lips.

Any secrets worth my time?

The words invade Ares' mind, but he shoves them away in order to focus on the game. He exhales, bending down to gain a more accurate representation of how hard he needs to bounce the disk. He calculates it in his mind. Then he inhales a slow breath, holds it, and flings the object.

It hits the edge and sinks into the tin.

Everyone erupts into cheers. Nobody complains as Nate, who isn't even in the game anymore, grabs the tin and downs the liquid. Even Clarke is smiling at him as she applauds. He receives several pats on the back, and even though these people are all intoxicated and their judgment is clouded, his heart soars at the fact that they aren't hostile toward him for once.

He wishes one more person had been here. He looks past the party to see Raven's tent illuminated from within, meaning she's still in there, making bullets. His gaze lingers on it, everyone else fading to the background as his gut twists.

Someone pokes his elbow. He turns to see Oliver looking at him with understanding.

"Go," he says, jerking his head toward Raven's tent. "See if you can get her to play with us. It's clear you want her to."

Ares flushes again. Is he really that obvious? For a self-proclaimed master at obscuring his emotions and deflecting them onto other people, he's apparently shit at it sometimes.

He nods, grateful for the cover of night to obscure his flaming cheeks. "Yeah. Thanks."

He walks off in the direction of Raven's tent. As he passes him, Nate watches him go with his mouth open in a gape, then slaps his palm to his forehead in exasperation.

Ares snatches a thermos of Moonshine on his way. Lifting the flap of the tent, he walks in unannounced.

Raven speaks to him without turning around. "If you've come back to tell me to stop making these, Finn, then I–" She cuts herself off when she looks over her shoulder and catches sight of Ares. "Oh. It's you."

"Wow," he says sarcastically. "Don't sound too enthused, Reyes, or people might think you tolerate me." He sets the canister of alcohol on the table set up on the far side of her tent, shoving aside a few clips of bullets in order to make it fit. "Brought you some Moonshine."

"Alcohol and bullets don't mix," she says blankly. Ares watches in half-fascination as she works. She carefully removes each bullet from the clip and fills it with gunpowder, then forges it back together so quickly she's like a machine. "Thought you may have learned that by now."

"That's why you should take a break and join us." He stops at her side, scanning the cramped table. "You've done a lot today. We can't have our best brain going fried from working too hard. Even Griffin is out there."

Raven doesn't even look at him. "No thanks."

They lapse into a tense silence. Ares thinks for a moment, assessing everything he knows about Raven. What would be the best way to persuade her to live a little?

He examines the tent. It's purely practical– full of weapons and empty magazines waiting to be filled with clips, a few stray bullets littering the ground from where they'd rolled off the table. It's cluttered. But despite that, Raven is alone.

It clicks. Of course. The thing she'd want the most right now is help.

So he takes a deep breath before saying, "If you come outside and play one game with us, I'll help you finish these bullets tomorrow."

That makes her stop. She freezes, computing his words for a moment before glancing up at him with one of her brows wrinkled. "Why do you care whether I go out or not?"

He shrugs. "Everyone deserves to have fun on Unity Day. Besides, Sterling wants to have teams next time and Nate and Kiernan are too drunk, so I need someone who can help me win."

Raven rolls her eyes at the second half of that, though a small grin threatens to tug at the corner of her lips. She finishes the bullet in her hands and carefully puts it back in the clip before dusting her hands off.

"Fine. But only because we'll win," she says. "Give me a second to wash this gunpowder off my hands."

Ares nods, pleased with himself, and gives her space to take the small container of water from the table, dipping a washcloth in it to clean her skin. He can see that the stiffness of her shoulders has gone down already. She seems more relaxed than when he'd first arrived.

He almost wants to ask what Collins had said to her when he'd been in here, but it doesn't seem like his business. He doesn't want her to shut down and refuse to join the party now. It's obviously a sensitive topic— she'd had nothing but venom in her voice when she'd thought he was Collins. Bringing it up would only cause destruction.

So he stays silent as she finishes cleaning up and takes a swig of the Moonshine he'd brought. Ares feels a smirk threatening to quirk up his lips as they emerge from the tent together, the chaos from the party greeting his ears once again. He leads her to the place where the game had been held earlier, finding everyone waiting for his return.

"Raven!" Kiernan exclaims, his arms still wrapped around the boy from before. It looks like they're very much enjoying each other's company. "It's a party now!"

"Hey," Clarke greets tentatively. Raven stiffens, but gives her a nod.

Ares glances at Oliver to see the boy giving him an encouraging smile.

Sterling claps his hands together. "Okay, the teams are Kath and I, Clarke and Ren, Oliver and Neo, and Raven and Ortega. You know the rules: the loser drinks. Ortega and Raven, you go first since Ortega won the last game."

For what might be the first time since the dropship's landing, Ares is surrounded by people and doesn't feel alone. Even though Kiernan and Nate are both drunk, he isn't intimidated by all of the others around him. There's a sense of undiluted joy in the air, snaking through the delinquents like a drug, and Ares wishes for nothing more than this night to go on forever.

Raven is so distracted by the game that she doesn't notice Collins dragging Clarke off to speak with her. Ares is impressed by her skills – as he'd expected – and they make a great team. Since Raven is soberer than any of them, she has an exceptionally steady hand and impressive aim.

But they do end up missing one, which is all Ares' fault because he hadn't been able to focus due to the happiness shocking his veins like electricity. Sterling sinks the next one, giving Raven the order to pick up the tin and down the liquid inside. She slams it back on the makeshift table. Ares can't help but train his gaze on the disk as she pokes it out from between her lips. He becomes plagued with the abrupt desire to take it from her mouth with his own, then has to practically pinch himself out of the daydream before he becomes possessed enough to actually do it. She still cares about Collins. Until that stops – or if it ever does – he can't make a move like that.

Ares wishes he could bottle up the night in an airtight jar to relive on his worst days. To even have a drop of the elation in his blood, the alcohol flushing his cheeks and making him feel more alive than he had while shooting that gun, would be a blessing. He doesn't remember the last time he'd felt like this. Genuinely happy. Without a care in the world how anyone sees him.

When Neo misses, knocking him and Oliver out of the game, Raven punches Ares' arm in excitement. He glances at her to see her staring up at him with an ear-splitting grin. It's so contagious that Ares finds himself smiling back, his cheeks hurting from the sheer volume of it, as joy exudes from every speck of his body. Her eyes reflect the light of the dozens of fires around them. Ares is certain that his are shining as well.

Then someone grabs their arms right before the final round. Ares and Raven turn to see Blake staring at them, his mouth pulled into a grim line. Jasper stands behind him, bouncing anxiously from foot to foot.

Ares' smile vanishes within an instant. "What?"

Blake shakes his head and silently indicates to the crowd of potential eavesdroppers. He waves them along, motioning them to follow him to the same place Ares and Nate had spoken earlier. Ares shares an unenthused look with Raven. Both of them bid the others goodbye before slipping off into the night.

"Your boyfriend's being an idiot," Blake says to Raven once they cluster up close to the camp's inner edge. "He set up a peace talk with the Grounders. We need bullets."

"Well, I'm coming with you," she says.

"We should get Clarke," Jasper pipes up. Blake doesn't reply, instead twisting his mouth to the side. An uncomfortable silence stretches between their small group, making Ares want to shift.

Her face falls, such a foil to her ecstatic expression before that Ares' stomach twists. "She's with Finn, isn't she?"

Instead of responding, Blake heads off toward Raven's tent to retrieve the bullets and rifles. It's as much of a confirmation as they need. Jasper uneasily glances between the two of them, his eyes slightly glassy. He'd obviously been drinking before this, too.

"What exactly is going on?" Ares questions with a pinched brow.

"I don't really know," the pale boy admits. "I guess Clarke asked Bellamy to tail them just in case something goes wrong, and he wants us to tag along."

All of the alcohol in Ares' gut turns sour. He turns toward where Nate and Kiernan are still with Sterling and the others, yearning to experience the same amount of joy that had been overflowing from him mere moments ago. But it seems that this is the universe's way of telling him he's not allowed to be happy for too long.

__________

a/n:

ARES SMILED

i also thought about this meme in relation to literally anyone in this chapter:

i've always been planning for him to actually smile in this chapter, right here, where he feels safe for once and is surrounded by people who don't care about his reputation. he's being treated like a normal human and is actually happy! we love that for ares!

i loved writing this chapter. aside from a few paragraphs that i wrote at 1am, i actually completed this whole thing in a single sitting. i was on a ROLL– the whole party was so fun! i loved writing them all having the chance to be teenagers for once. also i never realized it was sterling in that scene with clarke and the drinking game, so that proves that even though i've seen season 1 about 6 times, i can still learn new things every time.

i've decided to keep season 2 in this book, so be prepared to see some changes within the book once it draws closer to the end of season 1. i want to split the sections because i created a separate playlist for season 2 that i'm REALLY proud of! i can't wait for you guys to hear it!

also! please check out the pinterest board for this book if you haven't already. i have sections for ares, kiernan, orteyes, nares, kieres, bellares, and other aesthetics for the book as a whole! my username is stilestastic :) i work really hard on my boards so i would be eternally grateful if you gave them a look

–kristyn

TRANSLATIONS:

Pendejo: Dumbass

¿Qué pasa?: What's wrong?

Echo de menos a mi papá: I miss my dad.

( word count: 5.1k )