❝i wrestled with satan, and i emerged victorious.❞

-william faulkner, author

♛

CLARKE'S PLAN IS NOT the greatest. It's extremely risky, time-constricted, and even one mistake could have the entire thing come crashing down. No person in their right mind would do it. But desperation is a funny thing— it pushes us to do things we'd normally never do. Which is why I agree to sneak into the tower with the Griffins to save the dying King of Azgeda.

"I don't like this," Bellamy sighs, shifting his weight onto his opposite foot and tilting his head to the side. The light in the temple is still soft, obscuring the sharper angles of his face in shadows but casting an orange glow over his curls. It's silent except for the crackling of the hundreds of candles in the small room.

I scoff. "You never like anything. Besides, I'll be okay." My voice turns softer at the fact he still doesn't look convinced. "There are risks, yes, but there are risks outside of the tower, too, and Clarke asked for my help."

Bellamy grumbles incoherently under his breath. I sigh, reach up to cup his face in both of my hands, and press my lips firmly to his. I can't remember the last time we had a moment like this. Things have been so hectic to the point where we hardly get a break, and being back in his arms again fools my brain for a moment into thinking we have peace. But just as quickly, the illusion fades once I pull back.

"I'll be okay," I repeat firmly as I run my thumb along his cheek. My gaze locks onto his until he eventually gives in and nods, though still clearly unhappy about the plan.

Together, we walk out of the temple and find the others waiting for us. Bellamy heads to one of the abandoned buildings to keep watch as a gunner. Jaha has already located a spare body bag. Octavia is nowhere to be seen — maybe she's looking for the shroud of the Commanders — but her absence sets me on edge nevertheless.

"The guards stationed at the tower door will probably deliver you to the room where Roan is with Echo," Clarke says to Jaha. "Mom, Fallon, and I will sneak through the back corridors and follow you guys up there. You know the rest."

The small group of us collectively nods. I cast a quick glance in the direction that Bellamy went, but he's not in position at the top floor of the watch building yet.

I let my gaze drop to the former Chancellor of the Ark. I had spent most of my life avoiding him, hating how he allowed the upper class to thrive like they did while the working class barely had enough rations to survive. How he floated otherwise good people for the pettiest of crimes. But now I see a man stricken with regret of what he's done, a man who stayed in space while the rest of the Ark's inhabitants went to the ground. Jaha is already so different than the man I'd imagined he'd still been.

I'd punched him just a few weeks ago. Hopefully he'd forgive me for that— I'd let my emotions get the better of me and it was wrong.

But now is not the time for a formal apology. As Clarke takes my hand and starts to pull me toward the back of one of the Azgeda-stolen buildings, I barely have time to turn back and hastily blurt, "Sorry about the sucker punch."

Jaha runs a hand along his right cheek as if he's just now feeling the pain of it. "It was understandable."

That's no excuse, but I'm out of earshot before I can say anything else.

In order for Clarke's plan to work, things have to work perfectly. We're relying solely on Azgeda's respect for their fallen Commander and our knowledge of their violent tendencies. Maybe they'll have enough blind trust to accept the body Jaha carries without peeking into it first.

If they don't, Octavia will have to improvise and kill everyone in the room. Then we'll probably be screwed.

The Griffins and I stare at the hidden door in the wall as if we can goad it into opening faster. It's relatively soundproof — we can only hear muffled voices on the other side — and it only increases my nerves by a tenfold.

As if she can sense this, Clarke whispers confidently, "This will work."

"How can you be so sure?" Abby questions quietly.

Her daughter's gaze drops to the floor. "It has to."

The voices turn into shouts. I can feel the hair on the back of my neck standing up, my heart thrumming in my ears. Moments pass before it goes utterly silent. I curl my hands into fists to keep them from trembling with anticipation.

Just when I think I can't bear it anymore, the door unlatches from the inside and Octavia reveals herself. I blink at the sudden change in light. At first I think I'm imagining it, but then I notice that no, the man on the floor really does have a spear embedded in his mouth. The air is still smothered in a coppery scent from all the blood that's been spilled today.

"Your king's on the table," Octavia says nonchalantly, jerking her head in the direction of Roan. As my expression turns into one of bewilderment at her casual tone, she inclines her head in confusion at our hesitance. "Well? Go save him."

I turn away from her and follow Clarke toward where Roan lays on a wooden table. They'd stuffed a piece of cloth into the wound, likely in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but it's clear that the healer had no idea what to do about the bullet inside. Roan's face is pale— we don't have much time.

Abby quickly sets her bag on the edge of the table and removes a pair of large tweezers. She uses them to gently prod at the skin surrounding the hole, seeing where exactly the bullet hit and how careful she needs to be.

"I don't think there's any lung damage, but the bullet is pressing against his carotid," she informs us as she replaces the tweezers with an even larger pair of metal surgical tongs. Smoothly, she slides them into the wound to grab the bullet. "It's cutting off blood flow to his brain. As soon as I get it out, he should wake up. Come on, come on! Almost there. Got it!"

She produces an impossibly small, blood-coated bullet between the tongs of the tool. I instinctively cup my hands below it in case it drops to the floor.

"Good job," Clarke breathes. "What now?"

"Now we wait," Abby responds, placing the tongs back on the table. "Fallon, put the cloth back on his wound and give it pressure."

I do as she says and grab the previously-white cloth, stained red with dried blood that makes it hard and brittle. My hands press firmly onto the hole. Even as precious seconds tick by, his eyelids still remain closed.

Abby presses two fingers to his throat. "His breathing is still too shallow."

"You said his lungs were fine," Clarke says incredulously.

"No, I said I thought so," she corrects. "It's possible a bone fragment could've lodged in the tissue."

"Screw this," Octavia mutters from her watch post. She's been peering out at the negotiation between Bellamy and Echo this entire time, using a space between two boards to do so, but now she approaches our table with urgency. "It's time to go."

"No," Abby protests. "He needs more time."

"If Roan doesn't wake up, we're all dead," Clarke adds firmly.

"Come on, Roan," I whisper under my breath, looking down at the man who unknowingly holds our fates in his hands. "I wouldn't even mind if you whacked me in the head again if it meant you were awake."

This statement flies right over Abby and Octavia's heads, but Clarke swallows thickly at the memory of when we'd been so close to saving her.

I jump as a thud rattles the double doors behind us.

"They're here," Octavia announces anxiously, bouncing on the tips of her toes. "Back door."

"I have to close or he'll bleed out," Abby says as she hurriedly grabs thread and a needle.

"No, we have to go, or we'll bleed out," Octavia pushes.

I grab the smaller cloth that had been stuck in his wound when we'd arrived, burying it back in as well as I can. "This'll work for now."

"Good," Abby praises just as another thud causes the lock on the door to buckle.

"Go!" Clarke commands.

She urges us toward the back door, but it busts open and two Azgeda warriors march inside. Octavia turns toward another corridor just as another group turns the corner. Before I can blink, the room is filled with Grounders and we're instantly outnumbered.

"Shit," I hiss just before a masked man comes up behind me. I send a wild swing at his head, but he kicks me in the back of the knees and I end up crumpling to the ground instead. He grasps my hands tightly behind my back and yanks me up to my knees. I shake my head to get the hair out of my face.

"Emo don's trana slip Haihefa daun!" Echo cries, her eyes filling with realization that the negotiation had merely been a diversion. "Chek em au!"

A man yanks Bellamy into the room, his wrists bound and face sporting a new scratch that hadn't been there before. That and his expression alone are enough to tell me that things didn't go as planned.

His eyes sweep around the chaos in the room. Roan still unconscious on the table, the Grounders overpowering Clarke, Octavia, Abby, and I, the dead bodies littering the ground. Just as he makes a full survey, Echo throws back her arm and holds her sword firmly at his neck without looking.

"No, we were trying to save him!" Clarke insists.

Echo's mouth curls into the darkest sneer I've ever seen her sport as she stalks toward the blonde. Clarke's eyes widen as the woman raises her sword, her lip curling even more as she shouts, "Gon ai haiplana!"

"Hod op!"

I blink, realizing that the world had come to a stop between those two voices. It had taken me milliseconds to recognize that this could have been the moment that separated my life in half: with Clarke and without Clarke. But my body had been too slow to react. I'd been frozen in place, my heart a furious roar in my ears, panic plastered on my face.

Roan's voice sets things back in motion.

Echo stops just before she starts to swing, raising her gaze toward the table where the king is. I turn to see him coughing and yet rising all the same. He presses a hand to his chest where the cloth still sticks out of the wound.

Quickly, Echo lowers her sword and her gaze in sync with the other warriors. "Ai heihefa."

"Roan," Clarke says, relief filling her eyes as she nods coaxingly. "Help us. Tell them we're friends."

Roan continues coughing as he swings his legs off of the table and gets to his feet. He sways dangerously to the left, causing Abby to blurt, "You shouldn't try to stand so soon—"

The man holding her twists her arms behind her back to cut her off.

Slowly, Roan looks at the scene in front of him, his voice weak as he asks, "Where is Ontari?"

"Dead, sire," Echo responds. "Killed by them."

"We couldn't save her," Clarke corrects, "but we did what we came here to do. Now I need you to honor your promise to protect my people."

"Yeah, that was before your people shot me and killed my Commander," Roan points out exasperatedly, leaning heavily on a table and keeping his other hand pressed to his bullet wound.

"We just saved your damn life," Octavia sneers.

Echo steps around Clarke to speak to Roan lowly, keeping her head down so we can't hear what she's saying. The only thing I catch is, "Do it now. Kill Wanheda, take her power, and rule over everything."

—

Fortunately, Roan does not kill Clarke. Unfortunately, he locks us all in prison.

My hands are restrained with heavy, old-fashioned iron shackles which are fastened to the wall so I can't move more than a few feet. I want to ask how Bellamy is feeling. However, it somehow seems weird to do such a thing by speaking across the room to him. Echo's sense of humor caused her to chain us up on opposite sides of the prison cell.

Tedious moments tick by. The person closest to me is Octavia, who doesn't seem like she wants to strike up a conversation. She looks like she wants to kill someone— in the literal sense. I avoid her gaze as much as I can.

The sound of Abby moving closer to Clarke causes my attention to snap to them. Abby has been chained to the floor, though she's able to move the short distance it takes to reach her daughter.

"I know that look," she says softly.

Clarke's face falls, her lips trembling as she chokes back a sob. "I loved her, mom."

Abby nods, patting her cheek gently. "I know."

The sentiment is almost immediately broken by the sound of several men speaking in Trigedasleng, too muffled and quick for me to decipher. A masked person unlocks the gate and yanks it open, growling, "Wanheda, on your feet."

Clarke immediately scrambles to her feet and visibly recedes back into her Commander of Death façade. Her tears are gone— any resemblance to the love-stricken girl she'd been only seconds ago is gone.

"Where's the king?" she questions as an emotionless Echo enters the room. A man walks behind her to unlock her restraints, and she turns to Echo, desperate. "Hey, I need to see Roan."

She cries out as another person throws a bag over her head. My heart jumps into my throat, legs moving on their own accord in an attempt to reach her. The short length of the chains causes me to stumble backward into the stone wall with a grunt.

"Stop!" I demand just as Bellamy shouts, "Hey, hey!"

"No," Abby protests, reaching out in an attempt to grab onto her thrashing daughter as she's led out of the cell. "No!"

I yank against the shackles. A gasp falls from my lips as the pain shoots from my wrists to my toes and back up again. No matter how hard I tug, attempting to lunge at Echo, who's only inches from my reach, the chains hold.

"Echo, listen to me!" Bellamy shouts as she begins to smugly walk past him. "Wait! Echo—"

The last warrior to exit shoves the handle of his weapon into Bellamy's stomach, causing him to double over and fall to his knees. The lock on the door clicks back into place. I turn helplessly back toward the loop in the wall where my restraints are linked, mercilessly tugging until the stinging sends waves of pain and shock that I barely even register. All that matters is that Roan could be carrying out Echo's wish. She seemed way too pleased for it to be a simple meeting.

"Fallon," Octavia warns, but I ignore her and grit my teeth as my foot connects to the wall. Even with the added leverage, I'm no match for the iron. "Fallon, stop!"

I only freeze when she grabs onto my arm. My own screaming comes to a stop, as well as my movements, which causes the pain to finally register. I glance down at my wrists. The shackles had just begun to cut into my skin, causing blood to trickle down into the sleeves of my jacket. The areas around the cuts throb. It's so similar to the Murphy incident that, for one half-insane moment, I want to laugh.

Instead I realize that I'm muttering something under my breath. Over and over again, like a mantra.

"I can't lose her again."

I'm not sure who I'm saying it to: Octavia, the others who are staring at me, myself, or nobody at all.

—

"I know you've all come here for an execution, but no one else will die here today."

Roan's voice echoes throughout the Polis town square even without the use of a microphone. The king stands straight and tall on a platform raised above the awaiting crowd, so vastly different from the injured man who could hardly stand mere hours ago. He wears a new set of clean clothes and a sash over his chest not unlike those of the Commanders. However, his most obvious addition is his crown. Seemingly carved from bone, it circles his head and sticks up like antlers around the sides of it. He certainly looks like a king.

I stand between Bellamy and Kane with my arms folded to hide the dried blood on my wrists. I'd cut them almost in the same spot my other scars are, the ugly, mismatched circle-shaped ones from how deeply the seat belts had cut into them. Slight bruising had gradually appeared as well.

I honestly can't believe that Clarke had managed to talk her way out of certain death again, but she stands in front of me, a crease between her brows. She hadn't explained how she did it. In fact, she'd barely spoken at all once we'd reunited after gathering here.

"The City of Light has fallen," Roan continues, "and there is no Commander left to rule us. Until another Nightblood Ascends, I — King Roan of Azgeda, eldest son of Nia, Grandson of Theo — am caretaker of the throne and keeper of the Flame."

He holds up the rectangular device between his thumb and index finger, causing the crowd to gasp.

"Yu laik haihefa, nou ouspika!" one woman shouts. "Kaina bandragen dison bilaik?"

"Nou bandragen," Roan insists. "Reinseden! Until another Ascends, Azgeda honors and will defend the Coalition of the last true Commander, Lexa kom Trikru, including the thirteenth clan. Let it be known that an attack against Skaikru is an attack against us all."

I glance at the back of Clarke's head and nudge her. She turns around, eyes scanning over the tiniest of grins on my face. "Not bad."

She nods in thanks as if remembering what it had taken to get us here.

After Roan's announcement, Echo schedules a meeting between the remains of Skaikru in Polis and herself. She approaches us in the back of the city without a weapon drawn. Bellamy walks forward, as expressionless as her, as she holds out something wrapped in canvas.

"From your king," she says as she unwraps it to reveal some sort of Coalition item decorated with the symbols of Trikru and Skaikru on either side. I'm not sure what it's supposed to be. A paperweight? "With this, you'll be safe in any of our lands." As Bellamy reaches forward to grab it, she catches his arm. "You think we'll ever be able to trust each other again?"

He tilts his head to the side. "I doubt it."

Echo steps back and addresses us as a unit this time. "Welcome back to the Coalition."

She walks away, and it's hard to believe that that's it. Nobody had to die. No sacrifices had to be made.

I glance at Clarke. Maybe that's not true.

"Time to go," Bellamy says as he carelessly slaps the gift against the palm of his hand.

"We'll do our best to keep the king on his throne," Kane promises.

"We'll find a way to beat the radiation," Clarke says.

"If any of you screw this up, we die," Octavia points out as she glances between Bellamy, Clarke, and I. I furrow my brow at her. "No pressure."

"This is serious, O," Bellamy says. "If anyone finds out why Roan helped us, it'll be every clan for itself. The king will fall, and they'll come after us."

Octavia curls her lip. Sensing the tension thickening between the two, I clap my hands together. "Alright, we should start heading out before the sun goes down."

Clarke reaches forward to hug her mother. As Kane clasps hands with Bellamy, there's an awkward moment in which Octavia and I stand alone, facing each other, but not daring to embrace. That moment of vulnerability between us has already vanished. I'm not sure why she'd even done it in the first place.

But then I'm pulled into Abby's arms, Octavia floating out of my brain for the moment. I cling to her like a lifeline. Clarke's mother. My mother.

"I love you," she whispers.

My heart squeezes. "I love you, too."

When we pull back, Kane is still talking to Bellamy. I only catch the very last thing he says.

"Before you know it, you'll deserve to survive."

Bellamy nods sadly. "I hope so."

My mouth opens as if I'm about to say something, but I'm not sure what. Kane turns to me next and extends his arms. I pull him into a hug as well, curling my fists into his jacket and wondering how this man who'd been my enemy had so quickly turned into someone like a father.

It's over too soon. Before I know it, Bellamy, Clarke, and I are turning away from them and walking back toward the exit of Polis with the remaining Arkadia guards and Jaha. We follow them through the winding corridors of the city until we finally find an opening to the fence that lines it. Once we're out, my shoulders relax and tension leaves my body. Maybe I'd been wrong— that entire city is a cage. I'd been imprisoned ever since I stepped foot in it.

"Okay, Princess, what now?" Bellamy questions to Clarke, who sets her mouth in determination.

"Now we survive."

______

ok i'm upsetti spaghetti because i really wanted to get this up before hiatus started again but that didn't happen. i was on vacation all of last week and ended up being really busy this week as well. balancing 4 stories is a lot harder than i anticipated

also, idk if you noticed, but i changed the format of this book. basically, the gifs aren't going to be in the media anymore and are just going to be inline instead. i think it gives the book a more modern look and i spent like an hour re-uploading all of the gifs in this entire book

now that they're out of polis, the updates will hopefully come faster! (i'm just really excited to write some more delinquent action, you feel me?)

btw check out this gif i found of brant!! it's how i picture caleb looking when he met raven at the age of 18 jahfjafdjkafia it looks like he's saying "damn" and i think that's funny

-kristyn

TRANSLATIONS:

Emo don's trana slip Haihefa daun! Chek em au!: They were trying to kill the king! Check him!

Gon ai haiplana!: For my Queen!

Yu laik haihefa, nou ouspika! Kaina bandragen dison bilaik?: You are a king, not a priest! What kind of blasphemy is this?

Nou bandragen. Reinseden!: Not blasphemy. Order!