'there is nothing alive more agonized than man / of all that breathe and crawl across the earth.' Iliad, homer.

season 1, episode 1

pilot

September 13th, 2201

The children of the Ark were born and raised in a bleak, monochrome life. The only natural light they knew came from the Sun. Solar flares stretched thinly toward them, hope brimming from the magnetic fields of the Sun. Humans had long dreamed of space exploration only for their descendants to yearn for the Earth. The Sun stood as a forever constant, something universally accepted as untouchable.

It still served as a beacon of hope, an everlasting light. The idea of it being forbidden was what drew people toward it. There was something about being denied that caused the desire to augment. It fermented within the souls of the damned, pushing them to the point of no return.

The reality of it all was that everyone had reached for the Sun at least once in their life. The difference was, the hundred and Bellamy had survived their fall from the firmament. A second chance in the depths of Hell. What they willed it to be was theirs to decide. No council breathing down on their neck, no laws to tighten their restraints. The chains had been torn off. The Earth was a free game for those born without freedom and the luxury of solitude.

The juvenile brain that insisted on the idea that leadership meant limitation. Inhibitions would cast them astray from the ones next to them. Violence would find its way to reconcile any ill-mannered transaction.

Emilia could see it boiling beneath the fiery ball of hope. It illuminated their flaws, forcing them to the test of time. Here there were no Guardsmen to dispel fights. Perhaps violence could counter violence in the face of anarchy. Maybe a friendly hand to establish a truce could counter it.

The former seemed to be the most compelling choice.

Emilia's time pretending to be two separate people gave her more opportunities to understand the citizens of the Ark. She watched them every day, watching as people either looked out for themselves or extended their hand to others. She watched as people grew desperate and sought a solution. She learned that once you understand how people work in their groups, you can guide them.

Vera Kane indirectly taught her that during her sermons. The woman brought people from various stations, jobs, titles, and ages to believe that one day they would return to Earth. It didn't matter who they were or what they did, they would all get the chance to return to Earth, in life or death.

And here they were.

But these people Emilia found herself with were not as open to being surrounded by others-others they viewed as different; very easily acquaintances could be turned into friends or foe. She could see it easily. The teenagers who grew up knowing they would work until they died. They watched their parents work relentlessly. Imprisonment may have been a break, but now they were truly free from it.

Only they held their resentment close to their hearts. They were locked up by Council members, who lived blissfully on Alpha Station. They knew nothing of work yet commanded more.

Even a simple presence was seen as a heinous act.

"Emilia! You'll wanna see this," Wells called out, waving her to him and Clarke as they leaned over a map. Clarke may have been from Alpha station, but she shared a look of disdain towards Wells when he wasn't looking. For him to cast his life aside for her, Emilia thought she'd have some reciprocating feelings for him. "Clarke, this is Emi-"

"I know the Monarch," she said shortly. Truly an amalgamation of her parents. "You tried convincing my dad not to expose the Ark's flaw."

"I tried convincing your father not to get himself killed. We both failed," Emilia responded with a gentler tone than Clarke had.

She didn't need to be blamed for Jake's own actions. He wasn't a follower-just a man with a family and a moral compass. He wanted to do right by his people. Not for glory, but for the fact that there was life on the Ark. If his hands were able to mend, why not attempt to?

She still understood Clarke's resentment as it entwined with her unacknowledged grief. She understood what it meant to be a child in unexplainable grief.

"But that's in the past, we're here to start a future. What am I looking at?"

"This is us," Clarke started, using a ruler and a graphite stick-Abby always gives what she thinks her daughter needs. The girl bit down on her bitterness and swallowed it whole. Her hands glided along the aged paper. "This is where we need to get to if you want to survive." She lifted her head, meeting Emilia's confused expression. "We didn't land on Mount Weather."

Emilia was starting to understand why people became addicted to alcohol. Day one and she already needed it more than life itself. But what would that be besides a temporary, selfish solution?

She spun the map towards her. She calculated the distance based on the map's key. Her pointer finger followed the graphite, coating the tip. Twenty miles. Give or take the changes to Earth's crust in the years since the map was created.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Wells inquired, staring more at Clarke than at their situation. Clarke looked down. Her fingers tapped the map for Emilia to share. "Your father."

The air tensed. The once gentle breeze cut their bare flesh. Wells stepped to the side to allow Emilia to discuss with Clarke. It felt suffocating, and Emilia was forced in between it. The woman moved the map back but kept her eyes on it. Her graphite fingerprint smudged over Washington, D.C.

Whatever happened between the two teenagers was not her line of work. Helping them find civil ground, perhaps. But the look on Clarke's face, riddled with disgust she forced back down her throat was enough to tell Emilia that Clarke was not searching for mending.

"Focus on the future, right?" Emilia muttered, meeting Clarke's blue eyes. They had bigger problems than problems of the past.

Clarke nodded, returning to the map. Twenty miles sounded fair in theory. Then Emilia remembered how the cadets would complain about circling Go-Sci six times to equal two miles. Go-Sci was the largest station on the Ark.

None of the teenagers would want to go-not even if the Chancellor's son and a Councilwoman's daughter told them their lives depended on it. They wanted to enjoy their newfound freedom, even if they starved. Stubbornness often kills. It was the only way they knew to defy their oppressors.

"Oh, cool a map," a boy with goggles and a skinny figure let out, approaching them. Emilia raised her head, not noticing him at first-no, she noticed Well's jaw tightened and a vein protruded out of his forehead. He looked like his father in certain angles. "Can I get a bar in this town? I'll buy you a beer."

A smile feigned on her face. "That'd be sweet if you were old enou-"

Wells placed his hand over the boy's chest. He stumbled backward. His towering stature came off as threatening. "You mind?"

Full of surprises. Emilia turned to Clarke. Her lips parted as her eyebrows knitted-surprised by her old friend's actions. Wells never gave off threatening vibes, just a scared boy. But given the circumstances and God knows what prejudice Jaha spewed to him about criminals, his reaction made sense.

He was better than that.

"Wells."

He let go of the boy and stepped back. His face reverted to his own-he wasn't his father. "I'm sor-"

"Hands off of him. He's with us," a voice sounded from behind Emilia.

She and Wells turned to find John Murphy and a crew of boys. Some Emilia could pick out and name. John Mbege-from prior-Luis North, and Sterling Tracy-both of whom were arrested for treason, also known as suspected of aiding the Monarch. Luis had only been there for his friend, unknowingly getting himself entangled in an act of rebellion. Sterling, on the other hand, was definitely aiding the Monarch.

His mother would stitch information into clothing, snippets of speech the Old-World Monarch proclaimed, and new ones Emilia sent out in code. As many of her followers, families passed down pieces of the first revolution to ignite the flame. Sterling carried that with him. His seamster skills provided masks to the protest.

Wondering why he stood with John Murphy confused Emilia, somehow eliciting a headache. Murphy...he had been something else. He came from believers but refused to follow in their footsteps.

Long before her arrest, Emilia spent the bi-weekly visitor's day beside the prisoners who didn't have any requests to be seen. A plethora of the prisoners were left orphans or abandoned for their crimes. Murphy had been the former. She frequented Murphy after hearing his case. The first few visits were silent, filled with Murphy ignoring Emilia with the headset she brought. He didn't seem like a book guy based on his arson charge. She persisted, knowing in a year he would be floated.

No one deserved to be forgotten.

Then he began to question her: Why him? Who else? Why did she look like that? Why do this at all? Does she get off to helpless kids? Why be a culinary tech? Was she messed up in the head? What was her favorite song? Was she recruiting them?

"Like I've heard you are the one those freak followers go to for meetings or information. I'd rather die than follow that Moth bitch."

Murphy gave her a disappointed look, knowing the truth. It faded, shifting into something dark at the sight of Wells Jaha. His bitter revenge found him once again-he grew lost in the darkness of his wrath. His anger reflected the qualities of fire. He fed off oxygen, allowing himself to grow restless in his inferno. He always made sure to leave his scorched marks in his path.

His crime was arson after all.

"Relax," Wells elucidated, attempting to correct the issue he began. He heard stories of the fight within the Skybox. It was a good thing everything was made of metal-it made cleaning up blood easier. On Earth, it would only soak. "We're just trying to figure out where we are."

"We're on the ground. Is that not good enough for you?" Bellamy sounded. He had his own group forming behind him; his sister and a few others who became interested in the first lick of chaos. His eyes flickered onto Emilia. The corner of his lips twitched upward.

Bellamy had nuance written in his DNA. It flared in proximity to Emilia; she swore it on her mother's frozen, floating body. His incessant need to counter her every action from the first day of Earth History at age seven and eight. It simmered away once they migrated from ancient to medieval history-there he failed to have any knowledge of that history. Emilia ensured that he would never live down his failures to compete with her.

Emilia let out a huff. She dug her hands into her pockets and stood next to Wells. She met Bellamy's gaze with the same fury. "It isn't when we don't have supplies. Especially when they switched lunch for dropping us on Earth."

His smirk remained. A chuckle slipped through. A calculated move or a natural response, Emilia didn't know. She could admit she didn't understand him. One of a handful of things she was content with never digging deeper into.

"We need to find Mount Weather. You heard my father's message," Wells continued, speaking louder to the masses rather than to the small groups.

More people were enticed to listen. All equally reacting negatively to the mention of Jaha. Wells carried the privilege of not seeing the visceral pain that his father caused. He only heard stories; he understood enough to believe in the Monarch.

Still, Wells went on to be his father's spokesman.

Moving forward into the center, he spoke to Bellamy in the hope his age and Guards' wear had some semblance of authority, "That has to be our first priority."

Emilia followed with Clarke hot on her trail. She could feel the girl's eyes burning the back of her skull-neither of the Alpha station kids was equipped to deal with them. She was most likely hoping Emilia would step up and take the reins from Wells.

It would only worsen the circumstances. Respect was earned, and trust was earned. None of them, her included, had earned it yet.

"Screw your father," Octavia spat, narrowing her venom-filled eyes at the privileged. Her heated glare included Emilia. The Skybox chiseled the softness Emilia once saw at the Unity Dance. She mirrored her brother in every way. "What? You think you're in charge here? You, your little princess, and your queen?"

Emilia forced herself not to laugh.

She had her time with petty schoolgirl drama, and it never ended well for her aggressors. At a certain point, the Ark dictates when a juvenile's actions are worthy of imprisonment or a simple punishment. Petty thievery, bullying, and childish fights were punished with extra homework and aiding the janitors-Emilia had gotten her fair share of community service punishment. And at a certain point, children begin to learn their actions have consequences. They pick their battles and learn when to walk away.

Unfortunately, Octavia never got the chance to learn that.

And without the Council looming over their shoulder, many would forget it.

"Do you think we care who's in charge? We need to get to Mount Weather," Clarke defended, growing tired of the lack of urgency and maturity.

Their words were filled with well intentions, but no one would dare to take the bait. The teenagers had seen their families and friends get taken advantage of by the Council's sweetened lies. Work harder, gain more. Promise after empty promises. Only suffering came for them, while Alpha Station grew more gluttonous.

"Not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder this will be. How long do you think we'll last without those supplies?"

Just like her parents: a leader and an inspiration. Emilia looked around; contemplation warped the faces of the youth. She knew she would get hungry soon, those with an earlier breakfast would be getting hungry even sooner. They needed to hear it from their own.

"It's roughly a twenty-mile trek. I don't know about you guys, but I heard Old World food was pretty good. Imagine what Mount Weather might have."

"Has to be better than the Ark," the goggles boy let out. A wide grin took over his face, and the face of the Asian boy next to him. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

Nodding at him, Emilia turned to the crowd, stepping a foot in front of Wells. "Exactly. So, we should leave now to get there before dark."

"I got a better idea. You two go. Find it for us. Let the privilege do the hard work for a change," Bellamy interjected.

His ego never faded, it only seemed to grow. A covetous, mocking smile arose. Cheers erupted from the teenagers. It fueled Bellamy-an exhilarating high it was to be celebrated. From Janitor to leader. From unknown, overlooked, and forgotten to the king of Earth. "You with them now, Monarch?"

"Us and them. Very Council of you. What's stopping them from keeping it to themselves?" Emilia asked Bellamy and the crowd. "The privileged have never given us anything, why would they start today?"

"So, go with them, Monarch. For the betterment of all of us, right?"

"Very cute, Cadet."

His eyes narrowed at the old nickname. Her gut churned. Glory would always turn into mold. It infested and infected. No one reached for Godhood and could return to mankind human.

In Pike's Earth Skill discussions of the food chain, he mentioned that with humans as the top predators, only humans could be the reason for their demise. Without history, the world was destined to repeat itself. Violence would only blind the violent, sustaining their beliefs on how to solve the violence.

"You're not listening. We all need to go."

Wells shouldn't have spoken.

He didn't understand what he represented. No one would look at him as anything but Jaha 2.0. until he proved himself otherwise. And none of them would give him the time of day to do it. He didn't deserve it, but it didn't change that none of them deserved to be labeled as expendable.

"Look at this, everybody," Murphy sounded from behind. His voice grew louder and closer until he appeared right in front of Emilia. He shoved Wells forward. "The Chancellor of Earth."

As expected, the crowd reveled in the dethroning of Wells Jaha. Had they known he never wanted the crown, would they still do it?

It never would have mattered.

His father tore families apart by enforcing the laws and pressing the button instead of seeking to uproot the issue at hand. His face was the last they saw before being sucked into space. His face was the last thing children would remember-he killed their parents, locked them away, and sent them down to Earth to die for humanity.

And his son was burdened with his face.

"You think that's funny?" Wells asked. His face scrunched as he hid his pain. His leg.

Emilia tugged on Murphy's shoulder. "Don't."

He yanked himself from her. He didn't spare her a glance. Instead, he rushed forward. His foot collided with Well's bad leg. Wells crumbled down from the bottom up. A groan escaped his mouth.

"Murphy!" Emilia attempted to reach for him again only to be held back by Mbege. She found Clarke in the same predicament.

The woman searched for a way out, someone to stop this. No one was to be found. Her eyes landed on Bellamy, joyous of the show before him. His smile took over his face. A man enjoying the pain of a boy. Pathetic.

Had grief turned him into this? He was no better than the Council who turned a blind eye to the addiction and turmoil of the working-class stations. He enjoyed it because he knew he could benefit from it. What was his endgame? What could possibly benefit from the roles reversing besides a short-lived relief?

Guilt would only settle in vengeance's place.

"No, but that was."

Metal clinked. Her eyes shot upwards. On the side of the ship was Finn Fucking Collins. Wanna-be Spacewalker. If the truth was known, the world would know he was nothing more than a conman. The real badass was his girlfriend, Raven Reyes. Emilia didn't spend six years babysitting-practically raising-her to be any less than badass.

In the year since his arrest, his hair length doubled. It shielded his face as he observed from above. He pulled it back, and a glimmer of mischief in his eyes shined. He nodded to Emilia. His mouth moved without words.

'Kick back.'

Emilia did just that.

The heel of her boot landed on Mbege's knee. He shifted, loosening his grip. She shot her elbow into his stomach. His pained-filled noises were drowned beneath the crowd. A twinge of guilt snuck into her mind. He would live-maybe not be able to keep his breakfast, but at least he would live.

She faced the fight to find Wells on his feet, limping but ready to take on Murphy despite his disadvantage. He didn't care. If Murphy wanted a fight, Wells would give him one. He would let himself get pummeled to prove himself. He held his fists up. Murphy jerked. Wells flinched.

Murphy didn't care that it was unfair. His life was unfair. All he knew was unfair. If he could give the privileged a taste of it, he would make them feast. He pulled his arm back, ready to strike.

Emilia took hold of his wrist. She forcefully bent it behind his back. He fought her but lost every time. "Privileged or not, down here status won't save you from starvation or each other."

At the same moment, Finn jumped to ground level. Wells stumbled back at the sudden appearance. "Kid's got one leg and-"

His words didn't matter.

Murphy shoved his heel into Emilia's shin. She inhaled sharply, stumbling back. He spun and lunged forward, reeling back his fist. Emilia ducked. She rose as he staggered. Her foot swiped his, taking advantage of his imbalance. His hands landed on the ground first, saving his face from slamming into the ground.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Self-defense, she repeated it in her mind, she had to.

Skimming the crowd, their eyes remained on her. A mix of emotions. Some cheered for the entertainment. Others groaned at her interrupting Wells' beating. Only then did she notice Finn.

He maneuvered to Murphy and patted him sympathetically. "As I was saying...she's a rebellion leader. How 'bout you wait until it's a fair fight?"

"Hey, Spacewalker," Octavia called, pulling herself from her brother's protective bubble.

Bellamy's façade began to shatter. He reached for her to return to his orbit. She didn't notice. She continued toward Finn with an assertive gaze. For a girl who lived in a small room all her life, she knew what she wanted.

She stared at Finn with a half-lidded gaze filled with desire. "Rescue me next."

Finn and the crowd shared a laugh. Octavia skillfully disrupted the violence. Emilia ignored them, staring down at Murphy, writhing in pain. He tried his best to mask it, but she saw right through it.

All she knew was what he told her, which was little, and the rundown of his file from a guard. He cared only about things like The Beatles and Solar Flares. He was on track to join the guard before he got sick. His father stole to save his son. Though, his efforts were in vain. His life trickled further and further into darkness from there. He left his visitor slots open because he had one person alive that he thought would want to see him.

She never did.

Every time Emilia showed up instead of the girl, he grew resentful. She knew how it felt being on the other side of Murphy's emotions. Still, she tried. If she didn't, who would? Who else did he have?

"Still got your breakfast?" She crouched beside him as the masses disbursed. His features scrunched as he held his hands on his stomach. Pieces of a boy shone through his pain. He concealed it. Swallowed it down and picked himself up.

He looked down at her and spat on her face.

"Go float yourself, Monarch."

She blinked. He walked away, joining his band of boys. They dogged him for losing to her-a girl. He shoved them off, ordering them to be quiet. They listened and flinched at his anger.

Did he really think it was better this way?

She wiped his bodily fluids off her face as she rose. Guilt found a space in her mind and began to spread all over. Had she gone too far? Surely there could have been another resolution if she thought hard enough, maybe let Finn dispel the fight with his sudden spectacle.

No one should have got hurt.

Her fingers prickled with pain-she should have tried something different.

"See, I knew you weren't working out to lift more flour bags, but you kept pushing that narrative."

Her train of thought ceased as Finn filled her vision.

"Still as dramatic as usual, Spacewalker," she mused, clearing her mind of Murphy and his troubles to focus on her old mentee's boyfriend.

Growing up, he was nothing short of annoying-it came with the roughly five-year age gap. Anything Emilia did with Raven to aid her in engineering, he had to follow. She complied because Finn was there for Raven when she couldn't be. It didn't stop her from annoying him back.

"Thanks, Finny-Boy."

"Don't call me that, dude."

"Don't call me that, dude."

"They sent you to watch over us?" Finn's hand reached for the sky before slamming onto his scalp. He gripped his head, lacing his fingers with his hair. "Humanity is doomed!"

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, searching for spare brain cells to offer the boy. Too bad she needed them all. He would have to manage with the two in his head working overtime. "You're the only one doomed with that greasy mop on your head, Collins."

His dramatics faded as he stared at her. The weight of the reality of their situation had a tendency of resurfacing in her eyes. The lingering sense of not doing enough had always dragged the skin beneath her eyes down. No one around them had an ounce of urgency. No fear within them that in one day they would all have an agonizing pain within that they could have fixed today.

For once, he looked at her for guidance. No ounce of betrayal could be found.

"What's the plan?"

Never had Finn sought Emilia's approval or guidance. It resulted in many painful shocks on his part and laughter on hers. When he grew his own conscience and ideals, he clashed with her over the Monarch. The only way to dispel rumors was to dig a stance in the opposite field. Emilia would condemn the Monarch until Hell rose over-anything to throw her off the Council's trail. She set fire to her bridges.

The only thing that kept Emilia and Finn within contact with Raven.

Even then, that bridge managed to catch fire eventually.

Without their bird and without Emilia's need for an alibi, Finn looked to her as a guiding light. A reminder of what remained on the Ark, or maybe his faith managed to run strong.

The reasons didn't matter. He looked to her for help. She needed to prove she could provide it.

"Right now? Live to see tomorrow. Clarke is right; we need resources, but you see these people? This is the first time they haven't had anyone breathing down their neck in their entire lives. They aren't going to realize until after the excitement has worn off and their stomachs are eating itself." Speeches could only go far without action to prove the meanings behind them. She nodded her head toward Clarke and Wells by the mouth of the Dropship. "We have to show them we need each other."

"So, Mount Weather? When do we leave?" Finn asked, leading the way to the Councilor's children.

Wells' face bunched in pain. His boyish features crept through. Clarke scanned his leg, deeming it okay with its new wrap. Her focus couldn't stay on the boy long. She let out a huff as she looked at Emilia and Finn. "Right now." She only looked back to him to deny him of joining before it could leave his mouth. "We'll be back tomorrow with food."

"How are the three of you gonna carry enough food for a hundred?"

He wasn't wrong. No one else seemed willing to go. Sometimes a little force was necessary-gentle force. Emilia turned, spotting two boys. She grabbed the goggles boy and his friend by their collars. Their fears washed away when they realized she was turning them from their other friends. "This one promised me a beer."

Goggles furrowed his eyebrows. "You said I was too young."

"You are but the beer is for me, not you," she told frankly, letting her arms rest on their shoulders. It caused an aching echo to have her shoulder stretched in that manner. She clenched her jaw and masked it with a smile.

He shrugged, accepting her words with no arguments. His friend laughed, earning a slap to the stomach. Their playful behavior forced Emilia to be in the crossfire.

She pulled from them to not to get hit, stepping toward Clarke and Finn. She winced as her right arm extended backward. Wells watched her, concern laced his face. She shook her head-it wasn't the time to worry about her.

"Five of us," Finn claimed, finding the odds somewhat more favorable.

If they found bags or made them, they could bring back more to sustain the hundred for longer. They wouldn't be able to decipher if the trip would be worth the constant back-and-forth yet, so they would need to bring back as much as possible.

"Sounds like a party. Make it six," Octavia stated with a clap to make her presence further known, beaming with excitement. Her emotions did a complete 180 from before. She seemed willing to be around those she had spat at just moments prior.

Emilia couldn't hold it against her. She had much worse mood swings at Octavia's age. Hormones were at an all-time high after facing death in the face and managed to survive.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Bellamy asked, dropping his Godhood to return to brotherhood. His over-protective tendencies slipped past his mask. He reached for his sister, urging her to return to his side where he could ensure she would be most safe.

Octavia wasn't in need of it. Her limbs urged her to explore. A group heading out was her chance-despite hurling insults at them earlier for suggesting the journey-she could learn to be her own person. Her entire life consisted of the tight four walls of their Factory Station quarters, then the dreary cell she was shoved into. She may have missed her brother, but she did not miss her cage.

The woman resisted a smile when Octavia yanked her arm from Bellamy's grasp. "Going on a walk."

Maybe she had misread Octavia. Emilia was glad to be wrong.

"Hey." Clarke interrupts the siblings once again. Her interests weren't with them this time. However, it did surround the wristband once again.

She reached for Finn's right arm, gaining a better look at the band. "Were you trying to take this off?"

"Yeah. So?" Finn countered.

"So, this wristband transmits your vital signs to the Ark. Take it off and the Ark will think you're dead."

The Ark. Fuck. She needed to communicate with Jaha and the rest of the Council before they pressed her kill switch. "Once you land, you must communicate with us and then every four hours after using the radio on the third floor."

One wrong move and a gentle end would consume her. How tempting it was to let it happen. But who was she to let these teenagers suffer because she wished to be selfish? Her mother raised her for this. Blood, sweat, and tears were secreted from Emilia to prepare her for this. Her life was gifted to her for this.

None of that truly mattered to the Council. Abigail and Jaha were probably counting down the seconds, wagering a bet between their fellow members till they had to press the button.

So why hadn't they?

Her fingers bounced against her thigh. She was still standing. A blessing and a curse. Maybe they were willing to be lenient with her. She was instructed to keep a hundred teenagers alive after all-she had a job to fulfill for their gain.

"Should I care?"

Emilia's head snapped towards Finn, tearing her mind from possible death to Finn's sudden lack of care for Raven above. She drove the back of her hand into his stomach-nothing gut-provoking but enough to drive her point in addition to her glare.

The lifeline he got imprisoned for still resided above them. Raven did everything for Finn, as he did with her. He saw her at her worst and never thought any less of her. Yet he dared to stand in front of Emilia and pretend Raven didn't exist?

She left Raven, knowing at the very least she wouldn't be alone with Finn. Every visitor's day Emilia never failed to find Raven in the crowd, bouncing on her toes as she waited her turn. Their relationship hadn't changed when Finn took the charges from Raven. What about falling to Earth made him believe otherwise?

She might be willing to rethink her ideas of unprovoked violence-no, this situation was provoked.

"Well, I don't know. Do you want the people you love to think you're dead? Do you want them to follow you down here in two months? Because they won't if they think we're dying."

Finn's eyebrows contorted. He stared down at his only connection to Raven, beaten with scratches he gave it. He met Emilia's eyes, not with understanding but with conflict. He fought himself over something Emilia couldn't compute.

She had been a teenager once, faced with the weight of her loved ones' lives on her shoulders. She chose to be alone for them to live. It was better to be alone with them alive, than ridden with guilt for being selfish and have them dead.

Her eyes fell on Bellamy.

An idea formulated in his dark eyes, now illuminated with a mission in mind. She knew that look of purpose.

"Okay. Let's go," Clarke instructed. She adjusted her pack with one hand-another gift from Abby-and used the other to wave the group forward.

"Actually, I'm gonna stay," Emilia announced, tearing her eyes from the fractured figure she once knew.

A forlorn expression riddled the goggles boy's face. "What why? I owe you a beer."

Emilia squeezed his shoulder. "Next time, kid."

Confused looks were shared between Finn and Clarke. They could handle themselves out there-she hoped. She really fucking hoped. At the end of the day, Jaha held the choice to end Emilia's life. Not Abby. Not Kane. Not any of those fucking Council members. He would be less inclined to end it if Emilia protected Wells.

Was it selfish? Perhaps.

"Someone's gotta watch out for him. So, please don't die!" She covered her mendacious words with genuine concern for Wells as she waved them off. The two boys waved goodbye to her-Goggles made a sad face and separated his hand-heart. A laugh nestled in her throat; she refused to let it release.

Once they entered the bramble and Octavia gained the reluctant 'okay' from Bellamy, Emilia let her face harden. She could attempt to rationalize it in her head. She needed to protect Wells. She needed to keep an eye out for Murphy and his murderous group. She needed to keep everyone safe.

None of it would relinquish the guilty weight of letting five teenagers venture off into the unknown based on Old World information.

Though, it did lessen as she stood alone with Bellamy.

Her slitted vision found her thorn. Already watching her, he stood with a plan in mind. He had swiftly calculated the actions needed to achieve his stupid mission. Everything he did was absolutely idiotic.

She crossed her arms. "I know what you're thinking."

"Do you, now?" he asked, a smirk forming on his lips. His eyes narrowed, taking in every bit of her annoyance. "So, you're a rebellion leader, culinary tech, a fighter, and a telepath?"

"Gotta keep it interesting."

They stare at each other, unsure if the other is a threat. She understood the desire to disconnect from the Ark. Years of turmoil molded the Space Station and the people of the Ark looked over it. Fear rotted the citizens, allowing them to turn a blind eye to their neighbors. The Council let death and destruction consume the working-class station. All her pain came from their shared oppressors.

But they were still people.

There are people whom the hundred would need in the coming months. Engineers, farmers, builders, fighters. Pike would be useful around here. Sinclair. Raven. Abigail. Kane. And unfortunately, Jaha. Children were simply children. They deserved to be children. The adults could rebuild the Ark on Earth and give them a chance to live.

If she could, though, she would remove her wristband-a sign of defiance. Liberation. Freedom. It would be everything she fought for.

In the end, they would come down regardless. The Council would reign over the Earth. Ark laws and regulations would be reinstated. And the children before her would have their families. She couldn't deny them that because of the Council alone-because of Jaha. That would make her as bad as them. As bad as Bellamy seemed to want to be.

"It's not a good idea, Cadet." She uncrossed her arms. Her jaw clenched-she was sure it would snap under the pressure. There was some part of him that had a bigger picture in mind-there had to be. She used the nickname in an attempt to find it. Whatever game he was playing, he had to understand there was more than the Council he would soon attempt to punish.

"Who's side are you on, Monarch?" he spat, using the name of unity against her.

"Are there truly sides?"

"You know there are."

"No. You just believe there are."

Her glare lessened.

He never paid attention in history classes. Revolutions lasted for years when there was a clear-cut difference in sides-the wealthy and everyone else. But on the Ark, they were all theoretically equal. Socialism led the Ark for years. They got the same rations and the same opportunities, but it was simply a pretty packaging to drill into the youth. They were all the same yet there would always be a difference between them.

However, did it matter if the Ark wasn't on Earth to claim dominance just yet?

They landed in one spot in the grand world. The Ark could not rule them in the vast land. All the citizens needed was an opportunity to escape-a hand to show them that their lives meant more than being bodies for future generations.

Bellamy knew that; why else would he seek her out in the first place? Why spend the next two months doing anything less than preparing the hundred to force a revolution for their fellow workers?

"It's one to be a leader, anyone can decide to become a leader. It's another thing to be a symbol. Do you know the difference?"

His smirk returned. He looked down at her, chaos brimming in his dark eyes. He had lost purpose once. She witnessed life drain from his eyes, becoming a carcass who took cleaning orders without a word. Flames relit within him. This was his act to ensure he never lost anything again.

"You're going to tell me anyway."

She smiled. She understood now. Perhaps there were sides-survival and living. The bare minimum of maintaining the raging organ in his chest cavity was his choice. Selfishly gripping at any means to guarantee his survival. He would one day revert to that carrion, only left to rule his empty kingdom on Earth.

"I was but now that you pointed it out, I'll let you figure it out."

Tearing herself from the history of them, Emilia focused on the future. She turned away to find Minerva crouched beside Wells. Her anxious behavior withered away. She smiled at him with kindness no other had offered. Wells had been too deep within his emotions and thoughts to see it. Clarke must have cut into him deeper before departing.

Emilia nearly missed it as she dared to look back. Bellamy walked away with his posterior tensed, the leather of his jacket stretched beyond its limits. She had accepted long ago the loss of Bellamy Blake. There was no need to mourn again for the shadow that took his place.

Focus on the future.

"You okay?" Minerva asked Wells. She peered down at his leg, swiping her hair behind her shoulder. Dirt coated her hands, embedded within her nails. Soot. It kissed the tips of her fingers which were littered with split skin.

Wells swiftly pushed down his pant leg. "It'll be fine."

Minerva didn't notice Wells' crude tone or simply didn't care. The look on her face made Emilia think it was the latter. It was that look Raven had when she first truly noticed Finn. That look in those old movies that they labeled as butterflies. Minerva's innocence peaked beneath her messy embrace of Earth. "John's an ass. Next time, shout for me and I'll deal with him."

"You know Murphy?" Emilia asks, joining them. Her hands slipped into her pockets. Her fingers danced around the metal necklace she hid from Jaha. If he saw the butterfly, he would strip her of it-the last pieces of a life she could never return to.

Minerva nodded; her face turned sour. As quickly as it washed over her, she let it fade into nothing. She stood and held out her hand to Wells. Wells took it, not questioning her dirty extremities. She widened her stance to handle his additional weight. "Once upon a red moon."

Wells scrunched his face, doing a double take at Minerva. "I think it's a blue moon."

"Why would it be blue?"

"Why would it be red?"

This...was refreshing.

This was the life they deserved. Emilia let a faint smile form. "How do you two know each other?"

Wells shook his head, meeting Emilia's eyes. He wiped his hand on his pants. "We don't. She just started talking on the fall down and hasn't stopped since."

A playful pout took over Minerva's face. "He seemed so sad when Clarke was asleep then even more sad when she woke up." She shrugged, thinking nothing more of it. "I thought he could use a friend, and I was right."

Wells didn't attempt to deny it. Clarke slipped out of his mind in Minerva's presence. His sad expression was nowhere to be found. It seemed like an impossible thing to accomplish. Then again, when all you hear is constant chatter, you often forget what silence sounded like.

Incessant noise. Her brain brought her back to Jaha-the older, less tolerable one. Emilia needed to focus on the gun pointed at her head-or rather the needle forced into her artery. Any moment. She wondered if they put a mic in her wristband to talk to her-how could they trust that she would do what they said outside of their check-ups?

"Do either of you know where the communication would be? We should probably update the Council?"

Minerva scoffed, "Why? They sent us down here to die. No offense."

Wells nodded. His father didn't say goodbye-he was too cowardice to look his son in his eyes and admit they might never see each other again. Then he shook his head. "You're right, but they're still our people."

Emilia added, "They have satellite images of the way to Mount Weather-Clarke should've spoken to them before they left." She stepped toward the undistinguishable path the teenagers took.

Her journey to the group was cut on the first step. Wells held out his hand to stop her. "Everything's fried. A dozen panels are missing, and heat fried the wires."

Fuck.

Maybe the Council knew it before they did. Why she was still standing didn't seem worth questioning. An impending doom awaited her, the least she could do before her death was ensure the kids had resources. "Shit. Then...we got work to do."

"Like what?" Minerva asked, finding the need to have her hands do something pique. She must have been from Mecha Station. Emilia must have known her from there.

"Providing resources, looking at what we have, you know building the foundations for a community."

"You've seen them," Wells spoke, bitterness dripping in his words and darkening his eyes. A storm of cynicism brewed inside of him. Realism versus optimism. "They don't care about community."

"They will when the hunger settles." Emilia looked up. White smoke began drifting from behind the Dropship. The fire ceased. "There are still panels up there, right? We could use the glass to make fire. Fried wires can be used as rope or thread for tents and clothes.""

"I'll go," Minerva offered, bouncing from excitement. "I've always wanted to climb a tree."

"There's a hatch on the third floor you can use to get to-"

"Pretty boy, I said I wanted to climb a tree to get to the roof, so I'm going to climb a damn tree."

The girl's confidence was enough to instate trust in her not to get herself killed. Emilia grabbed her shoulder before she could take off like a rocket to the nearest, not burning tree. "Don't touch anything still connected to the inverter, okay? There's a high chance you'll electrocute yourself and bake with the solar panels."

"I've got it, Emilia. Trust me."

"You know which ones are good and which ones will make the whole ship combust?"

"Yeah. Factory Station's best scrap sorter is at your service." She saluted Emilia and sprinted to the nearest tree.

Factory Station. Where did she know Minerva from?

The girl used her speed to her advantage, jumping to reach the nearest tree. Her hands gripped the bark without a care for it ripping into her skin. She dangled for a moment, smiling ear to ear before pulling herself up.

"She's got it alright." Emilia turned to Wells, who couldn't take his eyes off Minerva.

Teenagers and their fluctuating emotions.

"You stick with easy stuff to keep off your ankle. We can use the seatbelts as rope, maybe make a pack from the parachute scraps. Call me if you need anything. I'll be on the other side."

She didn't wait to hear his complaints or counters, knowing the first thing that would exit his mouth would be about her shoulder. She needed to be alone.

This was supposed to be longer but I decided to spare yall from over 10k word chapter. The beginning chapters of a fic always sucks cause there's so much stuff I want to reveal but can't for effect. Still I sprinkle, sprinkle.

I have little to say for once, my brain hurts from editing this and tweaking out over how much to include. (I'll probably still edit this again later this week and send myself through another writing crisis)

BUT! I will speak about my baby Murphy. I love that boy to death, therefore I need to express it in this fic. He is the perfect character to oppose Emilia. While yes, Bellamy is her "rival", Murphy is her mirror.

ANYWAY! next chapter is half original, half the end of Episode 1. It makes me incredibly happy to know I get to write the budding of Emilia's friendships and incredibly sad. That's all I will say.

I hope you enjoyed! Please share your thoughts, ideas, theories, comments, whatever! I love you all. Happy New Year <3


Coming Next!: Emilia begins to form a faction within the hundred, working diligently towards her mission as they reach the end of their first day. Only for Bellamy to stand in her way at every turn.

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