pairing: Bellamy Blake x Grounder!Reader, Roan Kom Azgeda Sister!Reader, The 100 rewrite
Summary: Princess of Azgeda. Daughter of Queen Nia. Enemy of the Sky People.
Raised to put her people above everyone else, Y/N has spent her entire life preparing for war, politics, and the burden of protecting a crown she never asked for. But when she's captured during a scouting mission and imprisoned beneath Mount Weather, she finds herself trapped between enemies who want her dead, and allies who have already given up on her.
Survival is supposed to be simple: endure, escape, return home.
Then she meets Bellamy Blake.
Arrogant, reckless, and fiercely loyal, Bellamy represents everything she was taught to hate about the Sky People. Yet as war spreads across the ground and impossible choices force their worlds together, Y/N begins to question the stories she's been told, including everything about the man at the heart of it.
As alliances shift, betrayals cut deep, and grudges threaten to ignite another war, the Ice Nation princess must decide where her loyalties lie: with the people she swore to protect or with the future she never imagined for herself.
In a world where survival demands sacrifice, love may be the most dangerous choice of all.
The towers of Polis rise above the trees just before dusk. Stone catches the fading sunlight, turning the city gold against the darkening sky. The gates open at the sight of the Commander's banner. A single horn sounds at the column's arrival. No celebration greets our return.
The people lining the streets bow their heads in silence as Lexa rides through the city. Clarke keeps pace beside her, her shoulders heavy with exhaustion. I follow a few lengths behind with the Commander’s guards, the rhythmic clatter of hooves echoing between the stone buildings.
By the time we reach the tower, stable hands are waiting at the foot of the steps. My horse snorts as I hand over the reins, eager for rest after days on the road.
I watch Lexa disappear inside without slowing. She has barely crossed the threshold before duty calls her back. Some things never change.
The throne room is quieter than usual. The council has not been summoned. Only a handful of guards line the walls, their spears planted against the worn stone floor. The evening light filtering through the high windows does little to warm the vast chamber.
Roan stands near one of the great pillars. He looks up as we enter.
"I take it Arkadia was less than accommodating." He guesses.
Lexa doesn't answer. She silences him with a single look before continuing towards the throne.
Roan exhales a quiet laugh. "I'll take that as a no."
I shoot him a glare. The only sound is the soft echo of our footsteps across the stone floor.
Roan watches the Commander climb the shallow steps toward the throne before speaking again, this time with far less amusement.
"So Pike refused." He infers.
"He did," Lexa replies simply.
"I expected nothing else." He says.
"So did I." Lexa agrees. There is no anger in her voice.
Roan studies her for a long moment. "And now?"
Lexa turns to face him. "The blockade remains."
"Until?" He questions.
"Until Pike answers for his crimes," Lexa answers.
Roan nods slowly, considering her words. "He won't surrender."
"No." Lexa agrees.
Roan tilts his head. "You know that, though."
"I do," Lexa states.
A faint smile tugs at one corner of his mouth, though there is little humor behind it. "Then eventually you'll be forced to make a choice."
The room grows noticeably quieter. Even Titus pauses his task of sorting scrolls.
Lexa holds Roan's gaze without wavering. "I already have."
For the first time since we entered the chamber, Roan's expression falters slightly. He understands what she means. She has already chosen peace. If Pike refuses it, whatever follows will not be on her conscience.
“Heda,” Titus begins. “Several ambassadors have requested a meeting.”
Lexa lets out a breath. “They can wait until morning.” She orders.
“Yes, Heda.” The flamekeeper bows his head. Only once he disappears through the side doors does she finally exhale. It was quiet enough that I almost missed it. Clarke noticed too.
"You should eat," she said gently. My brows raise in response to the softness in Clarke’s voice.
"In a moment," Lexa replies.
"You've barely slept." Clarke comments.
"There will be time," Lexa assures her with a soft smile.
Clarke opened her mouth to argue.Then thought better of it. I exit the throne room without waiting to be dismissed.
The palace grows quieter as evening settles over Polis. The halls of the palace are empty. Most of the servants have retired for the evening, leaving only the occasional guard standing watch beneath flickering torches. I stop on one of the open balconies overlooking Polis. The city glows beneath the night sky.
I hear footsteps behind me and Roan comes to join me on the balcony, resting his forearms on the stone railing.
"So," he says after a long silence. "How long?"
I glance at him. "How long what?"
He keeps his eyes on the city. "How long was she like that?"
I take a deep breath. "I don't know."
"You have to." He says pointendly.
I shake my head. "I don't."
He finally looks at me. "When did she stop being our mother?"
I let out a slow breath."I don't think she ever stopped being yours." His expression falters. "But she never really started with me," I look back over the city. "Any sense of a relationship died between us the same day Father did."
Loaded silence settles between us. I can tell that Roan wants to say something, but doesn’t know what.
"The day Father died..." I say quietly. "I don't remember much after the battle."
~ Flashback~
Crimson rivers wind through the snowbanks, weaving between fallen warriors and discarded steel.
The battle rages around us, steel ringing against steel as Azgeda warriors crash into the enemy line. Horses whine. Men shout. The wind carries the smell of blood and smoke across the frozen valley.
I can barely hear Father's orders over the chaos.
"Hold the left!" His voice cuts through the storm. "Drive them back!"
The warriors obey without hesitation.
I struggle to keep pace beside him, my legs burning as I weave between fallen bodies.
Father glances over his shoulder. "Stay with me."
"I am." I gruff.
"No farther." He orders.
I roll my eyes. "I know."
"You don't." He almost smiles. Even in the middle of battle. He still finds time to smile at me.
A horn sounds somewhere ahead. The enemy surges forward.
"Shields!" Father commands.
The world erupts into violence. Steel crashes against steel.
An Azgeda warrior falls beside me, clutching his throat as blood spills between his fingers. Father pushes me behind his shield.
"Stay back." He orders.
"I can fight." I argue.
"I know you can." His sword cuts through an enemy before the man can reach us. "But today..." He blocks another strike. "...you're staying with me."
I hate it. I hate that he still treats me like a child. I duck beneath another swinging blade and drive my sword into a man's side exactly as he taught me. My father notices.
"Good." He praises. It fills me with pride.
The fighting shifts uphill. Snow flies beneath our boots as we climb. The enemy begins to retreat.
"We're winning!" I shout, turning back to look at my father.
He doesn't answer. His eyes are searching. He sees something I don't. His expression changes.
"Y/N!" He yells.
I turn. Too slowly. An enemy warrior bursts through the fighting. He isn't looking at Father. He's looking at me.
The axe in his hands is already swinging. Everything slows. I freeze. I know I should move. My body won't listen. Father is shouting. I can't hear the words.
The only thing I see is the blade. It's coming straight for my neck. I close my eyes.
A hand slams into my shoulder. The force throws me sideways into the snow. I hit the ground hard. The air rushes from my lungs. For a heartbeat, all I can see is white.
I hear a squelching sound coming from my left. Father is standing where I was. The axe is buried deep between his shoulder and chest. His sword slips from his fingers.
"No!" I scream. The word leaves me before I realize I've spoken.
The warrior tries to pull the axe free. Father doesn't let him. With one last burst of strength, he grabs the haft with both hands, trapping the weapon in his own body.
Our soldiers reach them. The enemy falls beneath a dozen blades. I don't even see who kills him. I'm already crawling through the snow.
"Father." I cry out. Tears blurring my vision.
He drops to one knee. Blood pours down the front of his armor. Bright against the white.
"No, no, no,” I sob, grabbing his arm. "We have to go."
He looks at me. Not at the wound or at the battle. At me.
"You're safe." His voice is strained.
"I don't care!" I yell, trying to pull him up. "Get up!"
He doesn't move.
"Please." I beg.
Around us, the battle continues. It sounds far away now. Like it's happening in another world.
"Medic!" I shout, whipping my head around wildly.
Father lifts a shaking hand. He cups my cheek. His thumb brushes away tears I hadn't realized were falling.
"You did well." He breathes.
"No." I sob.
"You listened." He says with warmth.
"I didn't." I cry, shaking my head.
"You survived." His breathing catches. "That's enough."
"It isn't!" I shake my head violently. "You promised we'd finish my lessons."
A faint smile touches his lips. "I know."
"You promised." I sob.
"I know." His hand slips from my face. I catch it before it falls.
"No." My voice cracks. "No, no, no..."
I pull at his shoulders. He doesn't move. "Please!"
Someone reaches for me. I shove them away. Another pair of hands grabs my arms. I fight. Kick. Scream.
"Let go!" I demand. My body thrases wildly.
Father lies motionless in the snow. Blood spreads beneath him. His eyes remain open. Staring at the gray winter sky. I wrench free for half a second before more warriors seize me. I claw at the snow, trying to reach him.
"I have him, Princess," one of them says.
"No!" I sceam.
"We have the King." The same guard says solemnly.
"No!" I sob instead.
They drag me backward. My fingers leave trails in the snow. The ice bites at my fingertips. I never stop reaching for him.
The last thing I see is my father's body lying where mine should have been.
~ Flashback ends ~
"I remember trying to pull him back up." I swallow. "I kept telling him to get up."
Roan lowers his eyes.
"I don't remember the ride home." I confess. "Or most of the funeral." I let out a slow breath. "I remember the pyre."
His head lifts. "So do I."
I shake mine. "No, you remember a funeral." My eyes water. "I remember a sentence."
The words leave us in silence.
"Mother told everyone it was my privilege." I laugh bitterly. "'The child he died protecting will honor him.'"
I can still hear her voice. As if she were speaking of tradition instead of punishment.
"The clans called it an honor." I stare down at my hands. "They said no one else should light the fire." My fingers curl into my palms. "I didn't want to."
Roan's expression softens.
"I couldn't even look at him." My voice cracks.
The image is burned into my mind. Father laid upon the timber. His armor cleaned. His hands folded over the hilt of his sword.
"He looked like he was sleeping." My voice catches. "I kept thinking if I waited long enough..." I shake my head. "...he would wake up."
The wind whistles across the balcony.
"Mother put the torch in my hands." I can still feel its weight. "I couldn't move." My throat tightens. "I just stood there."
Roan says nothing.
"Everyone was watching." I choke. "The generals, the warriors. The people Father had spent his life protecting."
I close my eyes.
"I remember Mother leaning down." Her voice is as clear now as it was then. "’Finish what you started.’"
My breath catches. "I didn't understand. Not then at least."
"I thought she meant..." I stop. "I thought she meant I was supposed to be brave." A tear slips down my cheek.
"It wasn't until later..." I look at Roan. "...that I realized she meant Father was already dead because of me."
Roan's face hardens. His right fist clenches by his side.
"She made me light the pyre. I watched the flames catch. They spread through the wood, until I couldn't see him anymore." For years, I dreamed about that fire.
"I hated that everyone called it an honor." My voice is barely above a whisper. "It wasn't. It was punishment."
I blink away tears. "I wasn't saying goodbye to my father."
I stare out over the lights of Polis. "I was being taught that his blood was on my hands."
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. Then Roan quietly says, "I always thought Mother gave you that duty because Father chose you."
I shake my head. "So did I."
A bitter smile crosses my lips. "It took me years to understand." I look at him. "She didn't give me the honor. She gave me the guilt."
Roan's jaw clenches. "He died protecting you."
I nod my head.
"He chose that." Roan places a hand on my shoulder. "You didn't kill him."
My eyes fill with tears. "I know."
The words come slowly.
"As War Chief..." I place a hand against my chest. "I know."
I look down at my trembling hands. "But there's still a part of the sixteen-year-old girl standing in front of that pyre..." I swallow hard."...who thinks if she'd just been faster… Father would have come home."
Roan pulls me to him. Tears run down my face silently. I see a single tear escape Roan’s eye but pretend not to notice. He kisses the top of my head, just like Father used to do. I shut my eyes.
"She started training me as a spy when I was ten."
Roan's hand stops abruptly. "I knew she started you young."
"You didn't know how." I don't wait for him to answer. I step out of his embrace.
I stare straight ahead. “The first lesson was obediance."
His brow furrows.
"She took me to the prison beneath the keep." I can still smell the damp stone. "There was a man chained to the wall."
Roan's expression slowly changes. "No..."
"She put a knife in my hand." The memory makes my stomach twist. "I wouldn't take it."
I laugh quietly. "I thought it was a test."
I close my eyes. "It was."
My voice drops. "She told me if I couldn't kill one prisoner..." I force the words out. "...I would never be strong enough to protect Azgeda."
Roan doesn't interrupt.
"I was ten." The wind whistles through the balcony. "When it was over..."
I look down at my hands. "I couldn't stop shaking."
My thumb rubs unconsciously across my palm. "I washed my hands until they bled."
Roan's eyes never leave me.
"I kept telling myself there was still blood on them."
He swallows hard. "Did Father know?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Why?" He sighs.
"Because he would've stopped her."
"Good." He huffs.
"No." I look at him. "He would've challenged her."
Understanding dawns across his face. "And they would've fought." He concludes.
I nod. "I couldn't risk losing him."
A sad smile crosses my face.
"I was so afraid of getting him killed." The irony hangs between us. "He died protecting me anyway."
Neither of us speaks. For a long time, the only sound is the wind.
My brother tugs my forcefuylly back to his chest.
"I can't change what she did." His voice is quiet. "I can't change what you lived through."
"No." I agree.
"But..." He hesitates. "...you don't have to carry Father's death the way she made you carry it."
I look at him. I see my father's son. The weight feels a little lighter.
The wind carries the sounds of Polis up to the balcony, but they feel impossibly far away.
"I hated you for a while." Roan's admission is so quiet I almost miss it.
"I know." I say comfortingly.
"I hated looking at you." He keeps his eyes on the city.
"Every time I did..." His jaw tightens."...I saw Mother lying on the stone."
I don't answer.
"I hated you because I hated myself more." His voice barely rises above a whisper. "You did what I never could." He looks down at his hands. "You saved my life... and I've hated myself ever since for letting you pay the price."
My throat tightens.
"I should've seen it." He growls.
"You couldn't have." I assure him.
"I was your brother, Y/N.” Roan argues.
"You were a child, Roan.” I say.
"So were you." He argues.
The words hang between us. For the first time, neither of us has an answer. Roan steps closer until we're standing shoulder to shoulder against the railing.
"I used to be jealous," he says.
I glance at him. "Of what?" I laugh.
"Father." A sad smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "He always said you fought like him."
"He said I thought like him." I reminiscence with a small smile.
"You did. And you still do.” He says, laughing softly. "I wanted him to say that about me."
"He was proud of you too." I nudge his shoulder.
"I know." He nods once. "I know that now."
Silence settles again.
Roan finally reaches over, not to pull me into an embrace, but to take my hand. His fingers close around mine.
"You don't have to believe Nia anymore." Roan says.
I look down at our joined hands. For the first time since Father died, someone else is carrying the weight with me.
Neither of us says another word. We watch the city in silence.
Roan has always been my brother. He has always loved me. Nothing has ever changed that. Though after tonight, he finally understands why I have never been able to forgive myself.
A/N: This scene between Reader and Roan has been one of my favorites to write!!! Their relationship is so special to me and I finally wanted to unpack everything Reader went through at the hands of Nia. The flashback was especially painful to write but I’m so happy with how it turned out!
The pine trees sway as a light breeze floods the forest. Sunlight slips through the branches in fractured beams, painting shifting patterns on the dirt.
We move silently. No one has uttered a word since Lexa ordered our march to Arkadia. There is simultaneously not enough to say and too much to say.
I ride a few lengths behind Lexa. She sits tall in her saddle. Clarke rides beside her.
A wave of guilt washes over me. Had it not been for my mother’s wish to break from the Coalition, the Trikru army never would have been stationed outside of Skaikru’s camp. It seems even in her death, she still reeks of destruction.
The forest abruptly gives way to a wide clearing. The remnants of the space station stick out horribly against the swaths of blue and green in the surrounding land.
I give Faye a gentle nudge, guiding her alongside Clarke and Lexa.
A handful of men and women stand to meet us at the gate. Guns pointed at the ready. The rifle barrels glint in the afternoon light.
Our escort doesn’t react. We come to a stop about fifty feet away from the main gates. The only sound is the wind brushing through the tall grass between us.
The Commander nudges her horse forward. The move is small and deliberate. She stops several horse lengths ahead of the rest of us, sunlight catching the Commander symbol burned into her forehead.
Her voice carries easily across the clearing. "I am Lexa, Commander of the Coalition."
Silence answers.
A dark-haired woman steps forward. She keeps her gun tight in her grip. “State your purpose!”
"I have come to speak with your Chancellor," Lexa replies coolly. The words drift across the open field.
I watch as the guards look at one another. A request, not a demand. It seems they weren’t expecting diplomacy. And by the looks of my fellow warriors, neither were we.
The heavy doors remain closed for several long moments. Then the gate groans as it opens. A man with a weathered expression steps out. A rifle hangs across his chest. Pike, I guess. He stops several yards from us, boots planted firmly in the dirt. Behind him, Bellamy steps into the sunlight.
For a heartbeat, his attention belongs only to Clarke. Relief softens the hard lines of his face. Then he notices me. Our eyes meet across the clearing. He eyes me with an unreadable expression.
Duty had pulled us in opposite directions. Nothing has changed.
A woman I recognize as Abby pushes past Pike before anyone can stop her.
"Clarke!" She yells, relief evident on her face.
Clarke is already sliding from her horse. She barely lands before Abby throws her arms around her.
Abby's shoulders shake as she buries her face against Clarke's hair. "I thought you were dead."
"I'm okay," Clarke assures.
Abby pulls back just enough to cup her daughter's face. "No." Her voice cracks. "You're alive."
A small smile breaks across Clarke's face. "I'm alive."
The reunion hangs over the clearing like sunlight after a storm. Pike clears his throat. His gaze shifts from Clarke back to Lexa.
"Commander." The title carries no respect.
Lexa inclines her head. "Chancellor."
"What exactly are you doing outside my gates?" He snarls.
"I came to prevent another war." She replies.
A humorless laugh escapes Pike. "You should've thought about that before abandoning my people at Mount Weather."
The words strike like an arrow. My shoulders tense. Lexa remains perfectly still.
"I made a choice for my people," Lexa replies.
"And mine paid the price." Bellamy's voice is quieter than Pike's.
Pike's gaze drifts from Lexa to me. It lingers on the blue-and-black crest embroidered across my cloak. Recognition flashes in his eyes. Then disgust. "And you brought an Azgeda princess into my camp."
The clearing goes still.
I meet his stare without flinching. "My title doesn't concern you."
"It concerns every person standing behind these walls." He takes a deliberate step forward. "Your people started the chain of events that destroyed Mount Weather."
The words hang in the air. A murmur spreads along the battlements overhead. Bellamy stiffens. I hold Pike's stare. He takes a slow step forward, boots crunching against the gravel.
"My people have done many things," I say slowly.
His expression hardens. "One of your people blew up the damn mountain!"
Silence settles over the clearing after his outburst. Pike’s eyes burn into mine. "50 are dead." He pauses. “Families, our elderly, and our children.” He adds quietly.
The memory flashes across Bellamy's face. Clarke lowers her eyes. I draw a slow breath.
His gaze burns into mine. "Everything that has happened began with Azgeda." The accusation hangs in the air.
I keep my voice level. "My mother made that choice."
"Your people murdered hundreds!” He shouts.
My jaw tightens. "And Mount Weather spent decades bleeding mine." The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Pike's eyes narrow. "So that's your justification?"
"No." I shake my head once. "It's the truth."
I glance toward Clarke, then Bellamy.
"The Mountain Men imprisoned Grounders for generations. They harvested our blood. Turned our people into Reapers. They butchered entire villages long before Skaikru ever came to Earth." My voice remains calm, but every word lands with purpose. "My mother sought revenge."
"She got it," Bellamy says quietly.
His voice carries more weight than Pike's shouting ever could.
“And while I can try to understand her need for vengeance, I never would have sent out the order,” I say truthfully.
Pike barks a humorless laugh. "Don't pretend that changes anything."
"I wasn't. My mother ordered it. And now she is dead," I sneer at the last sentence.
Pike folds his arms across his chest. "But you wear her crest."
"I wear my people's crest." I correct.
"They're the same thing." He argues.
"No." The word comes sharper than intended. "My mother and Azgeda are not one and the same."
His jaw tightens. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect nothing from you." The breeze stirs between us, tugging at the fur lining my cloak. The heat beats down my back, but I refuse to remove it.
"My mother believed fear kept people in line." I glance briefly toward Lexa. "I don't."
Pike scoffs. "That's convenient."
"It happens to be true."Bellamy's voice cuts through the silence.
I turn toward him, caught off guard. Of everyone standing here, he is the last person I expect to come to my defense.
"Echo followed Azgeda orders," he says. "She followed Queen Nia's orders." His gaze meets mine for only a moment before returning to Pike. "There's a difference."
Because he knows the distinction matters. Even if it doesn't make the dead any less dead.
Lexa steps forward, placing herself beside me.
"Queen Nia is dead." She reiterates. Her calm voice cuts through the growing tension."The woman responsible for that attack no longer rules Azgeda."
Pike doesn't look convinced. "And now her daughter does?"
"I don't." The answer leaves my mouth before anyone else can speak. "My brother is King."
For the first time, Pike hesitates. His eyes narrow. "So why are you here?"
I meet his stare without flinching.
"Because if another war begins, it won't matter who destroyed Mount Weather." I gesture toward the walls surrounding Arkadia. "It will happen again."
The clearing falls silent. Because everyone standing there knows exactly what another war would cost.
Pike folds his arms across his chest. "So what happens now?"
Lexa's gaze never leaves him.
"I came to Arkadia hoping this could end without further bloodshed." She replies calmly.
"You've got a funny way of showing it." He sneers.
"You murdered three hundred of my warriors," Lexa states. "They were waiting for the order to protect your people."
Pike scoffs. "They were waiting to invade."
"They were keeping the peace we negotiated." Lexa says calmly.
"The only peace I trust is the kind I can defend myself." Pike snarls.
Lexa studies him for a long moment before speaking again."I offered Skaikru a place in the Coalition. I offered peace between our people."
"And now?" He questions, fists clenching.
"And now I have come to demand justice," Lexa informs. "I will ask only once." Her voice remains calm."Surrender Charles Pike, at the mercy of the Coalition."
Every rifle along Arkadia's wall seems to tighten.
Pike laughs. "You think I'm handing myself over?"
"I know you are responsible for the deaths of three hundred Coalition warriors." She says.
"They were my enemy." He says defensively.
"They were your allies," Lexa corrects.
Pike shakes his head. "They stopped being allies the moment they camped outside my walls."
Lexa inclines her head once. "Then you leave me no choice."
She turns slightly in her saddle."Luca." The Trikru scout steps forward. "Sound the horn."
A deep horn blast rolls through the forest. Another answers in the distance. Then another. The blockade had begun.
"No one enters," Lexa declares. "No one leaves."
"The blockade will remain until Charles Pike is surrendered to Coalition justice." Lexa states.
Pike's jaw clenches. "You'll never have me."
Lexa's expression never changes. "That," she says quietly, "is now up to your people."
No one moves. The only sound is the breeze stirring the tall grass between us and the rhythmic stamping of restless horses.
Across the clearing, Bellamy stands beside Pike. His jaw is set.
A few weeks ago, he stood beside me in a cave, trusting me enough to hand me his back in a fight. We had escaped Mount Weather together. Bled together. Survived together.
Now there is an entire battlefield between us.
Our eyes meet for the briefest moment. His expression is impossible to read. Regret, resentment, duty. Perhaps all three. Whatever understanding had begun to form between us has been buried beneath politics, loyalty, and war. He belongs to Skaikru. I belong to Azgeda. Some distances cannot be crossed.
Lexa turns her horse without another word. "Our business here is finished." She declares. The Coalition escort follows immediately.
I linger for only a heartbeat longer. Bellamy is still watching. For a moment, I wonder if he's remembering our last conversation as clearly as I am. The silence between us says enough.
I turn Faye after Lexa. Behind us, the gates of Arkadia groan shut. The sound echoes through the clearing like the closing of a tomb. Ahead, the forest waits. Behind us, thousands of Coalition warriors begin taking their positions around the camp. Whatever fragile trust had existed between our people slipped a little further out of reach.
The afternoon meeting drags on. The war room is warm despite the open windows. Sunlight pours through the narrow windows, casting long bands of light across the massive stone table carved with a map of the Coalition. Wooden markers representing each clan are scattered across its surface, surrounded by rolled maps, ledgers, and wax-sealed reports.
The Commander stands at the head of the table, one hand resting on the worn wood as she listens to Titus read through the latest reports from the ambassadors. Trade agreements. Border disputes. The tedious parts of leadership I have never had the patience for.
Roan stands opposite Lexa, his posture relaxed but attentive. Though the crown on his head is still new, he wears it as though it has always belonged there. Every so often, he asks a question or offers a suggestion, his voice calm and measured. It is strange hearing him speak as king instead of prince.
I remain at his side, arms folded across my chest. My eyes wander from the map to the windows overlooking Polis before settling on the carved wolf marking Azgeda's territory.
Titus unrolls another parchment. A request of some sorts from Podakru.
The afternoon meeting is interrupted by frantic footsteps pounding through the tower. The doors to the war room fly open. A young Trikru scout stumbles inside, nearly collapsing as he drops to one knee.
"Commander." He pants.
Lexa immediately looks up from the map spread across the stone table.
"What happened?" She barks.
"The army outside Arkadia." His voice catches," has been attacked."
The room falls silent. Roan straightens beside me.
"What do you mean, attacked?" She questions.
The scout lowers his head. "It seems there are no survivors." He informs still catching his breath.
Lexa doesn't ask another question.
"Ready my horse." She commands.
The scout bows and hurries from the room. Titus follows to alert the guard. Within moments, only Lexa, Roan, and I remain.
"I'll gather my warriors," Roan says.
Lexa shakes her head. "No."
He frowns.
"If three hundred Trikru warriors have fallen, you may need every clan." He continues.
"You are needed here." Lexa orders.
Roan's jaw tightens. "I've been king less than a week."
"Exactly." She says.
Lexa steps closer.
"Azgeda has accepted your crown, but not everyone has accepted your rule. If you leave Polis now, others may see an opportunity."
He doesn't argue. Because he knows she's right. Lexa turns to me.
"I want you to ride with me." She says.
I nod without hesitation.
"When do we leave?" I ask.
"Immediately."
The ride is almost entirely silent. Lexa leads, I follow behind her. A third rider joins us before we leave the city gates, Clarke. She says nothing as she falls into step beside us. A few of Lexa’s guards take the rear.
The farther north we ride, the quieter the forest becomes. No birds. No insects. Only the sound of horses pushing through the trees. The smell hits us first. The unmistakeble smell of blood and death.
Lexa pulls her horse to a stop. I follow.
The clearing stretches before us. Bodies, hundreds of them. Grounder warriors lie exactly where they slept. Blankets stained crimson. Swords still sheathed. Some never even woke.
My stomach turns.
Three hundred warriors. Executed.
Lexa dismounts without a word. Clarke follows. I take a deep breath and dismount.The only sounds are boots against frozen earth. A weak groan cuts through the silence.
"There." Clarke points.
Lexa is already moving.
Indra leans against a fallen log, one hand pressed tightly against a wound in her side. Blood covers her armor. She looks up as Lexa kneels beside her.
"Commander." Indra breathes.
"You survived." Lexa states
"Barely." Indra says with a grimace.
Lexa grips her forearm. "What happened?" She gruffs out.
Indra's eyes sweep across the dead surrounding us. "They came before dawn." Her voice is hoarse. "My warriors were asleep." She closes her eyes. "They never had a chance."
Clarke's face pales.
"Who?" She whispers.
Indra looks directly at her. "Skaikru."
The word hangs in the air.
"They fired into the camp while my people slept." She swallows. "There was no warning. No battle, only slaughter."
I stare across the clearing. Three hundred Coalition warriors. Gone.
Images flash through my mind. Bellamy fighting beside me beneath Mount Weather. Bellamy watching me ride away as I left for Polis. I push them down before they can take hold. No. The man I’ve come to know couldn’t do this. Could he?
Lexa slowly rises to her feet. Her eyes remain fixed on the field of the dead. Then she speaks. "We ride for Arkadia."
There is no anger in her voice. No grief. Only resolve.
No one moves. For a long moment, we simply stand among the dead.
The wind stirs the banners scattered across the camp, carrying with it the metallic scent of blood. Fires that should have been warming sleeping warriors have burned down to smoldering embers. Bowls of untouched stew lie overturned in the dirt. Shields remain stacked where they had been set the night before.
They hadn't expected a battle. They had expected dawn.
Lexa finally breaks the silence.
"Search the camp." Her voice is calm. "If anyone still lives, find them."
The guards immediately scatter.
Clarke kneels beside one of the fallen Trikru warriors, checking for any sign of life before slowly closing his eyes.
I walk farther into the camp. The deeper I go, the worse it becomes.
Some bodies are tangled in blankets. Others lie facedown where they had tried to flee. Most never made it more than a few steps.
I stop beside a young warrior. He can't be much older than sixteen. His sword is still strapped to his side, untouched. I crouch beside him. For a moment, I simply stare. Then I reach out and close his eyes. "Yu gonplei ste odon," I murmur.
The words disappear into the silence. There are too many. 300 names and faces and no prayer can carry all of them.
Behind me, Indra forces herself to sit straighter. Lexa kneels once more at her side.
"Tell me everything."
Indra's breathing is labored. "They struck before first light." Her gaze remains fixed on the bodies surrounding us. "My sentries never sounded the alarm. By the time we woke..." She trails off. "It was already over."
Clarke swallows. "It was Pike?"
Indra nods once. "Pike gave the order." She looks toward Clarke. "But he wasn't alone."
The words send a chill through me.
"There were Skaikru soldiers." Indra continues.
Clarke's shoulders stiffen.
Indra closes her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. "And Bellamy Blake."
The world seems to stop. My breath catches.
The man I knew fought to save lives. The man Indra speaks of ended them. I don't know which one is real anymore.
Lexa rises to her feet. Her expression is unreadable.
"Send riders to Polis." She orders.
One of her guards steps forward.
"Tell them to prepare funeral rites for three hundred warriors."
The guard bows. "Yes, Commander."
Lexa looks across the clearing one final time. "So much death." Her voice is barely above a whisper. Then she turns toward Clarke. "Arkadia will answer for this."
Clarke lowers her head. "They will." She says looking at the fallen.
I cannot tell whether she believes it.
Lexa mounts her horse. "I will demand Pike." She states.
"And if they refuse?" I ask.
For the first time since we arrived, Lexa meets my eyes.
"Then they will force the Coalition to decide what comes next."
No one speaks after that. One by one, we mount our horses.
As we ride from the clearing, I glance back over my shoulder. Three hundred warriors remain where they fell, waiting to be carried home. My thoughts drift to Bellamy. The man beneath Mount Weather had stood beside me against impossible odds. Now I ride toward Arkadia to face a man I no longer recognize.
The first few days after Roan becomes king pass faster than I expect. Well, as fast as they can while I'm stuck in Polis. Lexa has ordered Roan and me to remain in the city while word of my mother's death and Roan's ascension to the throne spreads throughout the Coalition.
It seems as though the moment Roan placed the crown on his head, everyone suddenly expects him to have every answer.
I stand beside him through every meeting, watching ambassadors test him in ways they never dared test our mother. He never raises his voice. He never resorts to threats. Instead, he listens. Then he speaks. It's strange. For the first time in years, I don't feel like I'm waiting for someone to die.
By midday, I've had enough politics.
I make my way toward the training yard, hoping to clear my head. The sound of steel striking steel reaches me long before I arrive.
Echo stands in the center of the yard, effortlessly disarming another Azgeda warrior. His sword clatters across the dirt.
She doesn't even look impressed.
"Again," she orders.
The warrior mutters something under his breath as he retrieves his weapon. When Echo notices me, she raises an eyebrow.
"I was wondering when you'd escape." She jokes. "I was beginning to think council meetings were more painful than combat."
"They are." I groan.
Echo tosses me a practice sword.
"Then stop complaining." She says.
I catch it easily.
"You're challenging me?" I question, raising a brow.
"I'm trying to improve your mood." She corrects.
"By hitting me?" I question while my lip quirks up.
She smirks. "It usually works."
We circle one another. The first strike comes from me. She blocks it with ease. I shove her backward.
"There you are," Echo says with a grin.
"What?" I ask.
"That look." She states
"What look?" I huff in annoyance.
"The one that says you're about to hit me harder." She says with a laugh.
"I was trying to," I grunt out.
"I know." She twirls the practice sword through her fingers.
"These last few days have been... strange."
I lower my blade.
"They have." I agree.
"You keep looking over your shoulder," she states.
I frown.
"I do not," I argue.
"You do." Echo insists.
She steps closer.
"You spent years waiting for Queen Nia to change her mind. Waiting for her to turn on Roan... or on you." She says.
I don't answer.
"There isn't another order coming," she says quietly. "There isn't another punishment waiting."
My grip tightens around the hilt. Echo studies me for a long moment.
"You don't have to be ready for a fight every second anymore." She says.
A dry laugh leaves me.
"I'm a warrior, Echo," I say. It’s in my blood to be ready to fight at any given moment.
"So am I." She says. She gestures around the training yard. "But this..."
Her voice softens. “This feels different."
I follow her gaze across the courtyard. Roan walks with two advisers at his side. One speaks while the other gestures toward a map. Roan doesn't interrupt. He listens. Actually listens.
"I've spent my whole life protecting him," I say quietly.
Echo nods.
"And now?" she prompts.
I watch my brother disappear into the Tower.
"Now I help him protect Azgeda." I finish.
A small smile tugs at Echo's lips.
"I think your father would be proud." She says.
The words catch me off guard. A smile finds its way onto my face.
"So do I." I respond.
Later that afternoon, I find myself wandering through one of Polis' gardens. It's quiet. Almost unnervingly so.
Clarke sits beneath a tree, absentmindedly rolling a small flower between her fingers. She notices me before I can turn away.
"I didn't think you liked gardens," she calls.
"I don't," I reply. I much prefer the cold. Snow doesn't ask anything of you. It doesn't pretend to be kind. It simply demands that you survive.
She smiles. "Then why are you here?" she asks.
"I got lost," I say offhandedly.
She laughs.
"I don't believe you," Clarke states.
"You shouldn't," I say with a smirk.
For a moment, we simply stand there.
"You've been staying close to Lexa," I say.
Clarke's shoulders tense ever so slightly. "I have." She says, finally.
"You trust her." I guess.
She considers the question before answering.
"I trust that she's trying." Clarke corrects.
I fold my arms.
"That's not the same thing," I tell her.
"No." She looks out over Polis. "But sometimes it's enough."
I think about Roan. About Echo. About Bellamy. About Mount Weather. About my mother. Maybe she's right. Maybe trying is all any of us can do.
—
As I'm making my way back toward the Tower, I spot Kane standing alone on one of the balconies overlooking Polis.
So much for finding a moment to myself.
He notices me almost immediately.
"Princess." Kane greets.
"Chancellor." I nod in response.
"I wanted to thank you."
I stop beside him.
"For what?" I question skeptically.
"For giving the Coalition another chance." He clarifies.
I rest my forearms on the stone railing.
"I didn't do it for the Coalition," I tell him.
"No." He nods knowingly. "You did it for your brother."
I don't argue. He's right.
Below us, merchants haggle in the market while children weave between crowded stalls. Warriors from different clans pass each other without reaching for their weapons. It's peaceful for now.
"I hear Lexa intends to make Skaikru the Thirteenth Clan," I say, despite having been in the room when she announced it.
Kane nods.
"I hope she does." He says.
"You really think it'll work?" I question.
"I think it has to." He says honestly.
I study him for a moment.
"You sound certain," I state.
A small smile crosses his face.
"I'm hopeful." He corrects.
I let out a quiet breath.
"Hope gets people killed," I murmur.
Kane turns to face me.
"So does fear, Your Highness." He says.
I stiffen at the title. I've never cared much for Princess. I hate Your Highness even more. I've always been more comfortable as Chief than royalty.
Kane notices my expression. A knowing smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"I'll leave you to your thoughts." He says.
He inclines his head before walking away.
I rest my hands on the railing once more, watching Polis carry on beneath me. Merchants barter. Children laugh. Life continues.
As I watch the city move through another ordinary afternoon, I can't help but wonder which will win in the end, hope or fear.
The celebrations finally end. The music that fills Polis through the night fades into silence, replaced by the sounds of another morning. Merchants reopen their stalls. Children chase each other through the streets. Warriors resume their patrols.
If not for the fresh scorch marks in the square below, no one would have guessed a queen had died there less than a day ago.
I stand on the balcony outside my chamber, resting both hands against the cold stone railing.
Workers scrub the last traces of blood from the square.
Life moves on. It always does.
A knock echoes from behind me.
"My Princess." An Azgeda guard stands in the doorway, his fist pressed against his chest.
"What is it?" I turn.
"The ambassadors of the Coalition have requested an audience with the King." He says.
I nod once.
"And?" I question.
"The Commander has summoned both His Majesty..." He hesitates. "...and you."
That is unexpected.
"You may go," I order with a flick of my wrist.
The guard bows before disappearing down the corridor.
I take one last look over the waking city before turning back inside.
—-
Roan's chamber is only a short walk away. The guards outside immediately step aside.
"Your Highness."
I push open the door without waiting to be announced.
Roan is already awake.
Maps cover the large table in the center of the room. Rolled scrolls lie scattered across it, each bearing the seal of a different clan. His crown rests untouched near the edge of the table. He wears armor instead. He looks up as I enter.
"I was beginning to think you'd slept through the morning." He comments.
"I haven't slept," I say.
A faint smile crosses his face.
"I didn't think so," Roan says.
He looks back down at one of the scrolls.
"They've already begun." He complains.
I step closer.
"What have they sent?" I ask.
"Requests." He picks up one parchment before tossing it back onto the table."Trade, border disputes, oaths of loyalty, and complaints."
He sighs. A quiet laugh escapes me.
"Congratulations," I smirk.
Roan looks up.
"I've been king for less than a day." He says.
"I know." I chide.
"They're already expecting me to solve every problem in the Coalition." He huffs.
"They always were." I remind him.
His shoulders relax slightly.
"You sound remarkably calm." He comments.
"I don't have the crown," I say with a smile.
"No." He smirks. "You only helped put it there."
A comfortable silence settles between us.
Finally, Roan folds another scroll shut.
"Any challenges?" He questions.
I lean against the table.
"None openly," I say.
His expression doesn't change.
"That means they're waiting." He says, finally.
I nod.
"They'll test you first," I warn.
"They'll test us." He corrects.
Before I can answer, another knock sounds.
"Enter." Roan barks.
The door opens to reveal one of Lexa's guards.
"The Commander requests the presence of King Roan and Princess Y/N in the council chamber."
Roan exchanges a glance with me.
"We'll come." He says.
The guard bows before leaving.
Roan reaches for the Ice Nation crown. He studies it for a long moment before placing it carefully upon his head. It still looks unfamiliar.
"You ready?" he asks.
I adjust the sword at my hip.
"As I'll ever be." I smirk.
The council chamber is already full.
Ambassadors from every clan stand beneath their banners, speaking in hushed voices that die away as Roan enters.
I take my place one step behind his right shoulder. Echo remains near the entrance with the other Azgeda guards.
Across the room, Indra watches us with unreadable eyes. Beside her stands Kane. The Sky People's ambassador offers a respectful nod. I return it.
Lexa enters last. The room immediately falls silent.
"The Coalition recognizes Roan Kom Azgeda as King of the Ice Nation." Her voice carries effortlessly through the chamber.
"May today's council mark the beginning of peace between our people." She steps back.
The floor belongs to Roan. He scans the room before speaking.
"My mother believed strength came from fear," his voice is calm. "She was wrong."
A murmur ripples through the ambassadors.
"Azgeda remains strong." Roan says. He rests one hand on the pommel of his sword."We will defend our borders." His gaze sweeps across every clan. "We will honor our alliances."
Silence follows. Then an ambassador wearing the colors of Broadleaf Clan steps forward.
"Words are easily spoken, Your Grace." He challenges
Roan inclines his head.
"They are." Roan agrees.
"How are we to believe Azgeda has changed after yesterday?"
Before Roan can answer, another Shadow Valley ambassador speaks.
"The Princess executed a queen before the entire Coalition." She says.
Several heads turn toward me. I clench my fists.
“Not just the queen, but her own mother!” The Sangedakru ambassador yell.
I take a deep breath.
"The Princess," the ambassador continues, "is feared more than the woman she killed."
The room grows still. Roan starts to answer. I place a hand lightly against his arm. He glances at me. I step forward.
"If you fear me," Every eye fixes on mine. "...then understand why."
No one speaks.
"I killed Queen Nia because she threatened the coalition.” My voice echoes through the chamber. "Had she succeeded, every clan represented here would have returned home preparing for war."
The ambassadors exchange uneasy glances.
"I did not draw my sword for power." I say with warning. "I drew it because someone had to."
Silence. The ambassadors look at each other than at me. Lexa stares curiously.
Then Indra speaks.
"I was there." She says. "The Princess speaks the truth."
She folds her arms.
"Had Nia lived another minute," She looks toward Lexa. "the Coalition would not have."
No one challenges her. Lexa watches the room carefully before speaking.
"Then let this matter end here." Lexa orders.
Her gaze settles on each ambassador.
"We have survived because twelve clans stand together." She says.
She looks toward Roan.
"We will continue to survive only if we remember that." Lexa finishes.
One by one, the ambassadors bow their heads.
"The matter is settled." Lexa declares. No one objects. For a brief moment, the chamber is silent.
"There is one final matter before this council." Lexa announces.
The ambassadors look back toward the Commander. Lexa steps forward.
"The destruction of Mount Weather ended a common enemy."
Several heads nod.
"But peace is not secured by victory alone." Her eyes sweep across the room. "It is secured by unity." She pauses. "Skaikru has fought beside us. They have bled beside us."
Kane straightens where he stands but remains silent.
"They have proven themselves allies." She says..
A low murmur spreads through the chamber.
"I intend to offer Skaikru a place within the Coalition." Lexa states.
The room erupts.
"They are not Grounders."
"They're unpredictable."
"They slaughtered everyone inside the Mountain."
"They also freed our people," another ambassador counters.
Voices overlap until Lexa raises a single hand. Silence returns.
"The decision will not be made today," she says firmly. "Each clan will return to its people. You will consider what I have proposed."
She looks around the chamber. "When this council meets again, every ambassador will cast their vote."
My eyes drift toward Kane. He says nothing, but relief flashes across his face.
"The Coalition has endured because its clans chose unity over division," Lexa continues. "Ask yourselves whether denying Skaikru serves that unity... or threatens it."
No one answers.
Lexa inclines her head.
"This council is dismissed."
The ambassadors begin filing from the chamber in small groups, their conversations hushed but urgent. They're talking about Skaikru.
I step beside Roan as we watch the room empty.
"They'll fight this," I murmur.
Roan keeps his eyes on the departing ambassadors.
"They will." He agrees.
"You support it?" I ask.
He is quiet for a long moment.
"I support peace." He says finally.
I glance toward Kane.
"They're dangerous." I warn.
Roan finally looks at me.
"So are we." He smirks.
Only months ago, they were strangers who fell from the sky. Then they were enemies. Then uneasy allies against the Mountain. Now the Commander wants to make them one of us.
I glance toward Kane as he leaves the chamber with the rest of the Skaikru delegation. Hope softens his features.
He believes this can work. I wish I shared his certainty.
The Sky People fight differently than we do. They think differently. They move too quickly, trust too easily, and when they fear something, they destroy it before they try to understand it. Mount Weather proved that.
They also stood beside us against the Mountain Men. Bellamy risked his life to free Grounders he had never met. Clarke ended the Mountain to save her people and ours alike. Perhaps that is what makes Skaikru so dangerous. Their unpredictability.
If they become the Thirteenth Clan, they will no longer be someone else's problem. Maybe that is not the worst thing that could happen.
A/N: Little short chapter, but the story is going to pick up again!
The celebrations last long after sunset.
The streets of Polis echo with drums and laughter. Bonfires burn in every square. Warriors from every clan drink together, celebrating the end of Queen Nia's reign and the rise of a new king.
I want no part of it.
The halls of the Tower were strangely quiet compared to the city below. Torches flicker against the stone walls as I walk toward the chamber Lexa had offered Roan for the night.
Two Azgeda guards straighten when they see me.
"My Princess." The taller one greets.
I nodded once.
"Is he awake?" I ask.
"He is." He answers.
I push open the heavy wooden door.
Roan stands near the window overlooking Polis. His crown rests untouched on the table behind him. His armor has been removed, replaced with a simple black tunic. The fading light paints him in shades of amber.
"You missed your celebration," I observe.
"So did you." He responds.
I closed the door behind me. For a long moment, neither of us speaks. Finally, he breaks the silence.
"Have you slept?" He asks.
"No." I answer.
"I didn't think so." He says.
His eyes drifted toward me.
"You killed our mother." He states.
The words hung in the air.
"I did." I nod my head.
"I keep expecting to wake up." Roan says.
"I know." I say, solemnly.
He looked back out the window.
"I spent years imagining that moment." He recalls.
"Killing her?" I ask.
"No." He shakes his head. "Watching someone finally tell her no."
A bitter smile crosses my face.
"I wasn't exactly subtle." I say.
"No." He laughs quietly. "You never have been."
Silence settles again.
"When Father died..." Roan begins, "...I thought it was my responsibility to keep peace with her. To survive long enough to protect our people."
"You did." I agree.
"I failed." He counters.
"You didn't." I correct.
He turns to face me.
"I was banished." Roan says.
"You survived." I say.
"I let her become this." He whispers.
"You couldn't have stopped her, Roan." I say comfortingly.
"You did." He says.
"I ended her." I grimace. "There is a difference."
I look towards the floor.
"I don't know if there is." He says.
Roan walks across the room until we stand only a few feet apart.
"Do you regret it?" He asks.
The question comes without judgment. I think about Nia's face. About the fear in her eyes. About Father's funeral. About every warrior she'd sacrificed. About the command she'd given only hours earlier.
Execute him.
"No." I state.
The answer surprises even me.
"I regret that it became necessary." I conclude.
Roan nods slowly.
"So do I." He says.
A knock interrupts us.
"Enter." Roan says.
The door opens. Lexa steps inside alone. Neither of us bow. She hadn't come as Commander. She had come as an ally.
"I thought I might find you both together." Lexa says.
Roan inclines his head.
"Commander." He greets.
"There is something we need to discuss." She says, looking between us. "The Coalition knows Azgeda has a new king."
I frown.
"But they do not know what kind of king." Lexa finishes.
Roan folds his arms.
"What are you asking?" He says.
"I'm asking you to address the ambassadors tomorrow." She pauses. "And I'm asking Princess Y/N to stand beside you."
I meet her gaze.
"Why?" I question sharply. I do not have a place in politics.
"Because everyone in that square watched you kill a queen." Lexa responds just as sharply.
The room falls silent.
"They fear you." She says.
"I don't care." I retort.
"You should." She adds. Her voice remains calm. "Fear can unite people." She took another step. "It can also unite them against you."
Roan looks towards me.
"What do you think?" He asks.
I sigh.
"I think Azgeda has shed enough blood for one day." I say finally.
Lexa nods once.
"Then tomorrow..." She looked at both of us. "...show them that the Ice Nation is no longer ruled by fear."
After she leaves, I stand beside the window. Below, Polis celebrates a future no one had expected that morning. Beside me, Roan rests both hands on the stone ledge.
"Our lives just became considerably more complicated." He contemplates.
It took about a day to reach the outskirts of Polis.
Pines thin into towering hardwoods, their branches swaying in the afternoon breeze. My horse keeps a relentless pace beneath me, hooves pounding against the forest floor.
I should have never abandoned my army. A chief never abandons her warriors. Yet here I am.
There is no doubt that Lexa knows my army is marching toward Trikru. I'll be lucky if she lets me keep my head. But I'm more worried about Roan keeping his.
Roan rode into Polis with Wanheda.
Now that I know he and Clarke are truly allies and that he doesn't want her dead... I still don't know what to think. It's stupid of him to bring Clarke right to the woman who wants her dead. Maybe I am wrong about Lexa. Clarke is surely safer in Lexa's grasp than my mother's.
I just need to figure out what Clarke offered Roan.
I urge Faye to a trot.
The towering walls of Polis rise above the forest, impossible to mistake. Smoke curls from hundreds of chimneys inside the city. The gates stand open. Guards stop every traveler before allowing them through.
I guide my horse through the gate without slowing.
The guards recognize the Azgeda crest stitched into my cloak immediately.
"Princess." They bow their heads just enough to acknowledge my rank.
I barely spare them a glance.
"Has the Prince arrived?" I ask.
One of them nods.
"Last night." He says.
"And Wanheda?" I question.
Another nod.
I dismount before the stable master can reach me, tossing him the reins without a word.
"See that she's fed." I say without sparing a glance.
He catches them with both hands.
"Yes, Your Highness." He says.
I don't wait. The streets are more crowded than usual. Representatives from every clan fill the market square.
The roar reaches me long before I see the crowd.
At first, I mistake it for the noise of the market. But as I push farther into Polis, the cheers grow louder, sharper. Warriors chant. Steel rings against steel.
People abandon their stalls and flood toward the center of the city. I follow, weaving through the growing crowd until the buildings open into the Commander's square.
My steps falter.
Hundreds of Grounders surround a massive fighting pit carved into the earth. Clan banners whip in the wind above the arena. At the far end, a raised dais overlooks the crowd.
I spot Nia sitting on the throne, as smug as ever.
I push through the spectators.
"Move." I command.
No one argues. As I reach the edge of the arena, my breath catches.
Roan stands in the fighting circle. Sword in hand. Across from him is Lexa.
The Commander holds her own blade at the ready, eyes fixed on my brother. My stomach drops.
"Y/N!" I hear my name from my left.
I turn to find Clarke pushing through the crowd toward me. Her wrists are no longer bound. So Lexa wasn't going to kill her.
"What is this?" I demand, gesturing toward the arena.
Clarke's eyes return to the two figures standing below.
"Queen Nia invoked the right of challenge."
I frown.
"Against the Commander?" I ask, unable to hide my disbelief.
Clarke nods once.
"Lexa accepted." She explains.
I look back toward the fighting circle.
"Then why is the fuck Roan down there?" I yell.
"Because Nia named him as her champion." She says.
My breath catches. I stare at my brother. Sword in hand. Standing opposite the Commander.
Every muscle in his body is taut, but his expression is unreadable.
"He didn't choose this," I say.
"No," Clarke agrees. "Your mother chose for him."
My gaze drifts to the dais. Queen Nia watches the arena with a satisfied smile, as though she isn't gambling with her own son's life. My hands curl into fists.
For the first time in years, when I look at her I don't see a queen or my mother. I see a dead woman standing.
The horn sounds. Silence falls over Polis. Roan raises his sword.
Across the arena, Lexa mirrors the movement. Her expression is unreadable, her stance relaxed in a way that only someone truly dangerous could manage.
"Fight." Nia commands.
Steel collides.
Roan attacks first. His blade whistles through the air, aimed high before twisting into a cut toward her ribs.
Lexa steps aside with effortless precision. The sword slices through empty air. She counters immediately. Roan barely catches the strike.
The impact forces him back two steps, boots digging into the dirt. The crowd erupts.
Roan presses forward with heavy, powerful blows. Each strike carries enough force to split a shield.
Lexa gives ground without panic. She turns each attack aside with the smallest movements, conserving energy while Roan spends his.
I know my brother. He's one of Azgeda's greatest warriors. If he's struggling... It means she's even better than the stories.
Steel rings through the square. Roan feints left. Lexa bites. His elbow crashes into her shoulder, creating an opening. He swings. She ducks beneath the blade, pivots behind him, and slams the hilt of her sword into his back. Roan stumbles to one knee.
The crowd gasps.
Before he can recover, Lexa is already moving. Her sword flashes. Roan blocks.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Each strike comes faster than the last.
He holds. Until he doesn't.
Lexa twists beneath his guard, hooks his wrist, and sends his sword flying across the arena. It lands several feet away with a dull thud. Roan freezes.
Lexa's blade rests against his throat.
The square falls completely silent. No one breathes.
High above them, Queen Nia rises from her seat.
"Finish it!" she commands.
Lexa doesn't move.
"I said finish him!" Nia yells.
Roan never looks away from the Commander. He waits. Ready to die.
Lexa lowers her sword.
"I will not kill a man forced to fight for another's ambition." Lexa states.
A murmur ripples through the crowd.
Nia's face darkens.
"You dare disobey the terms of my challenge?" Nia questions.
"I won." Lexa says. She turns toward the dais."The challenge is over."
"No!" Nia screams. She points at Roan."Guards! Kill the traitor!"
Several Azgeda warriors hesitate. No one moves.
"He failed me!" Nia shouts. "Execute him!"
My heart pounds. She would do it. She would murder her own son because he survived.
Something inside me finally breaks.
Before I realize I'm moving, I'm already climbing the steps to the dais.
"My Princess—"
A guard reaches for me. I shove him aside. Nia turns just as I reach the top. Her expression hardens.
"You dare interrupt—" She begins.
"I dare." I cut her off.
She takes a step back.
"You would draw steel on your Queen?" She asks in disbelief.
I slowly unsheathe my sword.
"No." My voice is steady. "I draw it on my mother."
The square is deathly quiet. Nia laughs.
"You don't have the stomach." She sneers.
She reaches for her own blade. She never gets it free.
I close the distance in a single stride.
Nia stares at me. She looks afraid.
"Y/N..." she whispers.
"You stopped being my mother a long time ago." I say.
I drive my sword through her chest.
The world goes silent. Nia gasps. Her eyes search mine, looking for hesitation. She finds none.
"Yu gonplei ste odon." I whisper.
I pull the blade free.
The Queen of Azgeda collapses onto the dais before the eyes of every clan. Blood stains the wood beneath her.
I turn slowly toward the crowd. Toward Roan. Then I kneel. Lowering my sword before him.
"My King." I say.
No one moves. Then, one by one, the Azgeda warriors kneel.
"The Queen is dead," I say, my voice carrying across the silent square.
"Long live the King." I shout.
Lexa steps onto the dais. The crowd falls immediately silent. She studies Nia's body before turning her attention to me.
"You understand what you've done." Lexa says.
It isn't a question.
"I do." I answer.
"You've killed the Queen of Azgeda." She says.
"I killed a tyrant." I counter.
A murmur ripples through the ambassadors. Some nod. Others exchange uneasy glances.
Lexa's gaze never leaves mine.
"Why?" She asks simply.
I look down at Nia one last time.
"Because she condemned her own son to die for her ambition." I glance toward Roan. "And because if she lived, she never would have stopped."
Silence hangs over the square.
Finally, Lexa turns to Roan.
"King Roan kom Azgeda." Lexa states.
Roan slowly climbs the steps onto the dais. He stops beside our mother's body. For several long seconds, he simply looks at her. Then he bends, closes her eyes with one hand, and rises again.
When he faces the Coalition, his voice carries across the entire square.
"My mother's reign ends today." He looks toward the kneeling warriors of Azgeda. "I will not rule through fear."
More murmurs spread through the crowd. Roan turns to Lexa.
"I remain loyal to the Coalition." He says.
Lexa inclines her head.
"Then rise, King Roan." Lexa says.
He does.
For the first time since his banishment, he stands not as an exile, but as the rightful King of Azgeda.
He turns to me.
"You shouldn't have done it." He chides.
His words are quiet enough that only I can hear.
"I know." I answer.
"You've made enemies today." Roan scorns.
"I already had them." I counter.
For the first time all day, the corner of his mouth lifts into the faintest smile.
"You always were Father's daughter." He says warmly.
I let out a slow breath.
"Someone had to end it." I explain.
Roan's eyes drift to Nia one final time before returning to me.
"No." He states.
He places a hand on my shoulder.
"You chose to." He corrects.
Above us, the horns of Polis sound. Not for battle. For the crowning of a king.
Bellamy stirs. The rustling pulls me from my thoughts.
I lift my head from my hands and look across the cave. He's still sprawled on the ground exactly where Roan left him.
For a moment, I consider leaving him there. The thought lasts all of three seconds. With a sigh, I stand and walk over.
Bellamy's face is already bruising. I nudge him with my foot. His eyelids twitch. Then he groans and slowly rolls onto his side. The movement clearly hurts.
"Welcome back," I say.
Bellamy freezes. His eyes snap open. The first thing he does is look around the cave. He sits up far too quickly. Pain flashes across his face.
"Easy." I chide.
"Where's Clarke?" he demands.
I lean against the cave wall.
"Gone." I say curtly.
Bellamy immediately pushes himself to his feet. His injured leg nearly gives out beneath him. I grab his arm before he can fall. He jerks away.
"Gone where?" He demands.
"With Roan." I answer.
The answer lands exactly as expected. Bellamy swears loudly.
I cross my arms.
"Feel better?" I comment.
"No." He answers truthfully.
"Good." I say.
Bellamy shoots me a glare. I return it without hesitation. For a long moment neither of us speaks. The silence stretches.
Finally Bellamy drags a hand across his face.
"You let him take her." He states.
The accusation isn't surprising.
"What was I supposed to do?" I ask.
"Stop him." He answers.
I laugh. Actually laugh. Bellamy looks offended.
"I tried to go with him," I sigh.
Bellamy looks at me curiously. He goes to stand. His leg buckles and he hisses in my pain.
"We have to go after them." He says through clenched teeth.
I glance at his leg.
"You aren't going anywhere." I order.
Bellamy follows my gaze. Blood has soaked through the torn fabric wrapped around his thigh. The wound he received during the fight has opened again.
"I'm fine." He answers.
"You're limping." I say.
"I'm standing." He counters.
"Barely." I retort with a roll of my eyes.
His expression hardens.
"We don't have time for this." He says.
I push away from the wall.
"No. We don't." I agree.
Bellamy looks almost victorious. Then I walk past him and toward the remains of our fire. His victory vanishes.
"What are you doing?" He questions.
I kneel beside the flames.
"Saving you from losing that leg." I answer offhandedly.
Bellamy's face immediately darkens.
"No." He argues.
I ignore him. Using a stick, I push several coals together until they glow bright orange.
"Y/N." He says.
I draw my sword. Bellamy's eyes widen.
"Absolutely not." He snarls.
The steel catches the firelight as I slide it from its sheath.
"Sit down." I command.
"No." He argues.
"Sit." I order.
Bellamy folds his arms. I stare at him. He stares back. The standoff lasts nearly thirty seconds. Eventually his shoulders sag.
"You're enjoying this." He comments.
"A little." I say, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips.
He mutters something under his breath and lowers himself onto a nearby rock.
I crouch beside the fire and lay the flat of my blade across the hottest coals. The metal begins to heat.
Bellamy watches intently.
"Tell me that's not what I think it is." He says.
I turn the blade to get it hotter.
"It's exactly what you think it is." I answer not looking at him.
"You can't be serious." He argues.
I glance up.
"You want to die from infection?" I ask rhetorically.
"No." He answers.
"Then stop complaining." I grunt out.
The cave falls quiet except for the crackling fire. Slowly the steel darkens. Then it begins to glow a dull red.
"Y/N." Bellamy warns.
I stand.
"Take a breath." I tell him.
"Take a breath?" He repeats.
I kneel in front of him.
"Trust me." I say.
Bellamy chuckles.
"That's not happening." He says.
"Fair." I comment.
Without warning I grab my knife and rip through his blood-soaked pants. Bellamy hisses through his teeth.
The wound is ugly. It's deep and still bleeding.
I don't hesitate. The blade flashes forward. The heated steel presses against the torn flesh. Bellamy jerks violently. The smell of charred flesh burns my nose.
A curse explodes from his mouth as he grabs my shoulder hard enough to bruise. I hold him in place.
"Stay still." I order.
"I'm going to kill you," he growls.
"Get in line." I retort.
The wound sizzles beneath the blade. A few more seconds. Then I pull the sword away. Smoke curls upward.
Bellamy slumps forward, breathing hard.
For a long moment neither of us says anything. Finally he looks up at me.
"I hate you." He growls.
I inspect the wound.
"It worked." I ignore him.
He huffs in annoyance.
I tear a clean strip from the edge of my cloak and begin wrapping his leg. Bellamy watches silently. When I'm finished, I tie the knot and sit back on my heels.
"There." I say.
He cautiously tests his weight. The pain is still there. I can see it in his face. But the wound is closed. Bellamy lets out a slow breath.
I stand. My sword is cool enough to sheath.
"Where are you going?" Bellamy demands.
I kick the flames out.
"I have a thousand warriors to lead." I explain, looking over my shoulder.
"We have to go after them." Bellamy demands.
"We don't have to do anything," I say. "I have duties."
He rolls his eyes.
"You need to leave." I state. "If any of my warriors see you, they'll kill you."
He eyes me for a long moment.
"And you're just going to leave me here?" He asks.
I glance toward the mouth of the cave.
"That was the plan." I say.
"Right." Bellamy scoffs.
"You can walk." I tighten the sheath at my waist.
"Barely." He retorts.
"Still walking." I counter.
His jaw tightens.
"Clarke is heading straight into a death sentence." He says.
The words hit harder than I'd like. I think of Roan riding at the head of the column. Of Clarke bound behind him. Of Queen Nia waiting in Polis.
I push the thought away.
"That's not my problem." I point out.
Bellamy immediately calls my bluff.
"That's a lie." He says.
I glare at him.
"Careful, Sky Boy." I warn.
"No." He stands, favoring his injured leg. "You don't believe that."
The confidence in his voice is irritating.
"You don't know what I believe." I argue.
"I know you." He gestures vaguely between us. "At least enough."
I laugh once.
"You know nothing about me." I state.
The silence stretches. Bellamy takes a step closer. Pain flashes across his face, but he ignores it.
"You care." He states.
The accusation lands somewhere uncomfortable. His smirk widens when he sees my expression. For a moment neither of us speaks. The cave is quiet except for the distant wind outside. Finally I shake my head.
"You are unbelievably annoying." I say finally.
"I get that a lot." He says smirking.
"I can't imagine why." I say rolling my eyes.
Bellamy actually laughs. The sound catches me off guard. It feels strange hearing laughter after everything that's happened. Then reality returns. I look toward the cave entrance.
"My army is moving south. If I don't catch them soon, I'll lose them." I say.
Bellamy's amusement fades.
"And Clarke?" He asks.
I hesitate. Only for a second. Then I force my expression blank.
"Roan will get her to Polis." I promise.
Bellamy's eyes narrow.
"That's not what I asked." He says lowly.
Of course it isn't. Because we both know what he's really asking. What Queen Nia will do once Clarke arrives. Whether Roan can protect her. Whether anyone can.
I look away first.
"You should go." I say.
Bellamy studies me carefully.
"You don't trust your mother either, do you?" He asks.
My entire body stills. The temperature in the cave seems to drop. When I look back at him, the amusement is gone from my face.
"Leave. Now." I command.
Bellamy realizes immediately he's struck something sensitive. But for once, he doesn't push. Instead he nods.
I turn before he can say anything else. Without another word, I stride toward the cave entrance. The cold air hits my face as I step outside.
Behind me, I hear Bellamy following. He eyes me carefully. The look lingers longer than it should. Like he's trying to figure me out.
"Stop staring." I snarl.
Bellamy doesn't.
Instead, his gaze drifts over the fur-lined armor, the Azgeda markings burned into the leather, the sword hanging at my side.
"You really weren't going to help Clarke." He says.
It's not quite a question. I tighten the strap around my wrist.
"I told you. I have responsibilities." I respond.
"And Clarke doesn't?" He questions.
I scoff.
"Clarke isn't my responsibility." I respond curtly.
The words leave my mouth too quickly. Bellamy notices. His eyes narrow.
"You keep saying that." He says.
I step toward him.
"And you keep talking." I retort.
For a second, I think he'll back down. Instead, Bellamy takes a step forward too. Even injured, even exhausted, he refuses to give an inch.
"Then tell me I'm wrong." He demands.
I stare at him.
The cold wind whistles through the trees outside the cave.
Bellamy waits. I don't answer. Because I can't. The truth is complicated.
Clarke isn't my responsibility. But Roan is. Azgeda is. And if Roan delivers Wanheda to Queen Nia. I already know how that story ends.
Bellamy studies my expression. The realization slowly dawns on him.
"You think Nia is going to kill her." He says finally.
I look away. That is answer enough. A curse slips from Bellamy's mouth. His hand runs through his hair.
"Then why are we standing here?" He asks.
"We?" I repeat.
His eyes flash.
"Yes, we." He states.
I bark out a laugh.
"You've been unconscious for half a day and suddenly we're a team?" I ask skeptically.
"We don't have to like each other." He says.
"Good." I respond.
"But we need Clarke alive." He says.
The cave falls silent. Bellamy is right. I hate that he's right.
Outside, the distant sound of horns echoes through the forest. My head immediately snaps toward the noise. Azgeda. They're getting farther away.
Bellamy notices my reaction.
"What was that?" He questions.
"A signal horn." I respond.
"What does it mean?" He asks.
I move toward the entrance.
"It means they're moving." I say.
Bellamy limps after me.
"Then let's go." He says.
I stop so suddenly he nearly walks into me.
"Did you hit your head harder than I thought?" I huff with an annoyance.
Bellamy frowns.
"What?" He asks.
I turn to face him fully.
"My army hates Sky People." I say.
"I know." He responds.
"If they find you with me, they'll assume you're a prisoner." I continue.
"Fine." Bellamy shrugs.
I blink.
"Fine?" I ask.
"Fine." He says.
I stare at him. He stares back.
"Bellamy." I warn.
"What?" He asks.
"You do understand what happens to prisoners in Azgeda."
A beat passes.
"Not great things?" He guesses.
"Not great things." I repeat.
Bellamy sighs.
I genuinely don't know whether to laugh or strangle him. Maybe both.
Bellamy shifts his weight and immediately regrets it. Pain flashes across his face. He tries to hide it and fails miserably. I roll my eyes.
"Sit." I order.
"No." He argues.
"Sit." I order again.
"We're wasting time." He says.
I step forward and shove him backward onto a rock.
Bellamy looks offended.
"Did you just push me?" He asks, raising a brow.
"Yes." I answer.
"I'm injured." He defends.
"I'm aware." I answer.
He mutters something under his breath. I kneel and check the bandage around his leg. No fresh blood. The wound will hold. At least for now.
When I look up, Bellamy is watching me again. Not with suspicion this time. Something else. Something I don't like nearly as much.
"What?" I snap.
He hesitates.
"Why did Roan leave you behind?" He asks.
The question catches me off guard. I immediately stand.
"None of your business." I say leaving no room for discussion.
Bellamy notices the way my shoulders tense. The way my expression hardens. Which means he's already figured out enough.
"Because he knew you'd follow." He suspects.
My jaw clenches.
"You're wrong." I defend.
Bellamy doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. Because we both know he isn't. Roan knows me better than anyone. Maybe even better than I know myself.
And if he left me here with Bellamy instead of dragging me back to the army...
Then he knew exactly what choice I'd make. The realization irritates me more than it should.
With an aggravated sigh, I grab my pack from the ground.
Bellamy slowly rises to his feet.
"What's the plan?" He asks.
I start toward the cave entrance.
"There is no plan." I respond curtly.
Bellamy follows.
"That sounds like a terrible plan." He says.
I glare over my shoulder.
A grin appears on Bellamy's face.
And somehow, despite everything, despite Clarke, despite Nia, despite the army marching south toward Polis, I find myself fighting the urge to smile back.
We exit the cave. I find Faye still tied on the branch. I untie her and stroke her white mane.
We travel together for most of the day.
The forest grows thicker as we move south. Bellamy limps beside me, stubbornly refusing to admit his leg hurts.
By midday, we find tracks. Hundreds of them. My army.
Bellamy crouches beside the prints.
"They're gaining distance." He guesses.
I nod.
"They've been marching since dawn." I say.
Bellamy stands.
"Then we cut through the valley." He says.
"No." I state quickly.
He looks at me.
"No?" He asks.
I point east.
"The valley is exposed. My scouts will see us before we get halfway through it." I respond.
Bellamy exhales sharply.
"Then what do we do?" He asks.
I remain silent for a moment. Because I've already reached the conclusion. And I know he isn't going to like it.
"We split up." I say.
Bellamy's head snaps toward me.
"What?" He asks.
"You'll move faster without me." I say.
"And you'll move faster without me." He adds.
"Exactly." I say with a small smirk.
Bellamy immediately shakes his head.
"No." He says.
I almost laugh.
"You don't get a vote." I say.
"Y/N—" he starts.
"Bellamy," I cut him off. "Think."
He falls silent. I continue.
"If my warriors find us together, they'll kill you." I say again, repeating my words from earlier.
"And if your mother finds out you're helping me—" He begins.
"She'll kill me." I finish for him.
The words hang between us.
Bellamy drags a hand across his face.
"So what's your plan?" He asks.
I look south.
"My brother." I say.
Bellamy understands immediately.
"You're going after Roan." He guesses.
I nod.
"And you?" I ask.
His jaw tightens.
"I'm going home." He says.
I study him for a moment. Then I unclip a small knife from my belt and toss it to him. Bellamy catches it. Confusion crosses his face.
"In case your leg opens again." I answer.
He looks down at the blade. When he looks back up, his expression has softened slightly.
"Thanks." Bellamy says.
The word feels strange coming from him. I shrug.
"Try not to die, Sky Boy." I say.
A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"You first, Princess." He says with a smirk.
For a moment neither of us moves. Then Bellamy turns north. I turn south. Toward a war neither of us can stop. Without looking back, we walk away from each other.
The march is slow. Not because of terrain, but because of the size of the army. Nearly a thousand warriors move through the forest in a long column of steel and fur.
Banners snap in the wind overhead. Orders travel up and down the line. Horses snort clouds of white into the cold morning air.
I ride near the front beside Varen.
The farther south we travel, the less snow covers the ground.
Soon, we will cross into Trikru territory. A fact that has everyone on edge. Including me.
"Scouts returned an hour ago." Varen says.
I glance over.
"And?" I ask.
"No signs of resistance." He informs.
I hum. That doesn't mean much. Trikru warriors are skilled at remaining unseen. If they're watching us, and they probably are, we wouldn't know until they wanted us to.
The thought doesn't bother me. What bothers me is everything else. The Coalition. Nia. Roan.
The reports that refuse to leave my mind. I've been on edge. We're marching closer and closer to where Roan was last seen.
A rider approaches from the front of the column. One of our scouts. He reins his horse in sharply.
"Your highness."
I straighten.
"What is it?" I ask.
"We're entering Trikru territory." He says.
"Obviously." I retort. "You're dismissed."
I don't have time for helpless information.
The scout winces.
"Apologies." He bows and breaks away.
Varen shifts atop his saddle. He opens his mouth to say something. I fix him with a look and he shuts it again.
I sigh.
Three hours pass agonizingly slow.
I shift in my saddle. My lower back aches, but I won't get a chance to rest for another three hours when we finally stop to make camp.
The column stretches endlessly through the forest. The rhythmic sound of drums and marching has long since become unbearable.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a warrior drifting out of formation.
My patience is already hanging by a thread.
Before I can bark an order, another warrior reaches over and shoves him back into line.
I turn my head, fully intending to reprimand them both with a glare alone.
Then brown eyes meet mine.
I freeze.
The world seems to narrow. The sounds of marching fade into the background.
For a moment, I can only stare. The warrior quickly looks away. Too quickly.
My gaze immediately sweeps over him.
The fur cloak sits awkwardly across his shoulders. His armor doesn't fit correctly. He is unarmed.
And then there's his posture. Not Azgeda. Not even close.
My pulse stutters. It can't be.
Months have passed since Mount Weather. Months since I watched him disappear into the chaos. Months since I last saw him.
But I would know him anywhere.
Bellamy Blake.
The realization hits like a blow to the chest.
Of all the people I expected to see today, Bellamy sits firmly at the bottom of the list. Yet there he is.
Marching among Azgeda warriors. Disguised badly enough that I'm almost offended.
My eyes narrow. What in God's name is he doing here?
Bellamy glances in my direction again. This time there is no mistaking it. Recognition flashes across his face. Gone almost immediately.
He faces forward. As if we are complete strangers. As if we didn't escape Mount Weather together. As if he isn't currently pretending to be one of my warriors.
I should expose him. I should have him dragged from the column and questioned. Instead, curiosity gets the better of me.
Because Bellamy Blake is reckless, impulsive, stubborn beyond reason. But he is not stupid.
If he's here, there is a reason. And whatever that reason is, it's important enough for him to risk his life.
The question is whether it has anything to do with Roan. Or why my instincts are suddenly screaming that something bigger is happening.
Either way, I intend to find out.
I face forward, pretending not to notice the imposter amongst our midst.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him slowly drift toward the edge of the column. Not wanting to draw attention to himself.
Bellamy was never particularly good at subtlety. The fact that he's trying tells me whatever he's doing here is important.
I wait. One minute. Then another. Until he's nearly swallowed by the tree line. Only then do I make my move.
I shift in my seat toward Varen. I keep my expression neutral.
"I'm going to inspect the lines." I inform him.
Varen's brow arches. Of course it does. War chiefs don't inspect the lines personally. Not when they're leading a march.
His eyes linger on me for a moment. Trying to figure out what game I'm playing. Unfortunately for him, I've spent years learning from the best strategists in Azgeda.
"I'll hold the line." He says finally.
The skepticism in his voice is impossible to miss.
I nod once.
"See that you do." I say offhandedly.
A snort escapes him.
I turn Faye before he can say anything else. The mare picks her way through the marching warriors. Soldiers step aside as I pass. Some nod respectfully. Others glance at me curiously. A few look openly confused.
I ignore all of them. My attention remains fixed on the forest ahead.
The moment I reach the edge of the column, I slip between the trees.
The sounds of marching immediately dull behind me. Leaves crunch beneath Faye's hooves. The forest is still.
I dismount and crouch beside a patch of disturbed earth. Fresh tracks. A broken twig catches my eye. Bellamy's trail.
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth despite myself.
For someone sneaking through the woods, he's leaving an impressive amount of evidence behind.
I rise to my feet and take hold of Faye's reins.
The trail leads me deeper into the forest. Far deeper than I expected.
At first, I wonder if Bellamy realizes he's being followed. Then I remember Bellamy has never been nearly as stealthy as he thinks he is.
The tracks eventually disappear beneath a layer of stone. I stop beside a rocky outcropping. A cave. Interesting.
Faye shifts nervously beside me. I tie her reins to a nearby branch and continue on foot.
The air grows cooler with every step. Voices echo from somewhere ahead. I immediately freeze.
I move forward slowly. Years of training have taught me how to move without being heard.
The argument becomes clearer.
"...I'm not leaving without her." Bellamy pleads.
A second voice answers. I don't recognize it immediately.
"Then you're an idiot." The voice answers.
Something about the voice catches my attention. Familiar, but it's impossible.
I move closer. The cave opens into a larger chamber.
My eyes immediately find Bellamy. He's standing with his arms crossed.
A few feet away stands another man. His back is turned toward me. He looks familiar. A sword strapped across his back.
Between them sits a young woman chained to the wall. Though her hair is dyed red, I recognize her. Clarke.
The realization nearly makes me laugh. Of course Bellamy would be involved in something this reckless.
Bellamy gestures toward the chains.
"We don't have time for this." He says.
The man turns slightly.
"Neither do I." He answers.
My stomach drops. The voice. I know that voice.
The world seems to tilt beneath me. The man takes another step. Firelight catches his profile. And suddenly I can't breathe. Roan.
For a moment, everything else disappears. My brother is alive. A new scar adorns the left side of his face. But other than that he's unharmed.
He quickly moves forward and slashes Bellamy in the thigh. Bellamy hisses through clenched teeth and presses a hand against his wound.
"What the hell was that for?" Clarke snaps.
Roan twirls the sword once before sliding it back into its sheath.
"To remind you that I'm serious." Roan answers.
"You're insane." Bellamy hisses.
The tension in the cave is thick enough to cut with a blade.
And suddenly I realize something. Roan isn't Clarke's ally. He's her captor.
A twig snaps beneath my boot. The sound echoes through the cave. Immediately, every head turns. Damn.
Roan's hand flies to his sword. Bellamy spins toward the shadows. Clarke straightens.
For half a second, nobody moves. Then I step into the firelight. Bellamy's eyes widen. Clarke's mouth falls open. Roan simply stares.
I cross my arms.
"Nice reunion." I comment.
Silence.
Bellamy recovers first.
"Y/N?" He asks.
I ignore him.
My attention remains fixed entirely on Roan.
For the first time since entering the cave, uncertainty crosses his face. Good.
I take another step forward.
"You disappear for months," I say."Ignore every patrol searching for you."
My eyes flick toward the red-haired woman chained to the wall. Toward Wanheda. The Commander of Death. The woman every Grounder in the Coalition seems obsessed with. Then back to Roan.
"And somehow I find you hiding in a cave with Wanheda chained to a wall." I take a breath.
Roan opens his mouth. I don't let him speak.
My fist connects with his jaw. The crack echoes through the cave. Roan stumbles backward.
Bellamy's eyes nearly leave his head. Clarke shifts her chains.
I shake out my hand.
"Try it again." he says.
I narrow my eyes.
"Don't tempt me." I chide.
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"Missed you too, little sister." He says.
He then pulls me into a hug.
For the first time since entering the cave, I feel something loosen in my chest. He's alive.
Unfortunately, Bellamy ruins the moment.
"We have bigger problems." He says.
All traces of amusement vanish. Bellamy gestures toward Clarke.
"She's supposed to be in Arkadia." He explains.
I glance at the chains. Then at Clarke. Then back at Bellamy.
"I gathered that." I answer.
Clarke rolls her eyes.
"I can speak for myself." She argues.
"Then explain why my brother kidnapped Wanheda." I say to Bellamy, ignoring her.
Roan folds his arms.
"I didn't kidnap her." He says.
The entire cave falls silent. Bellamy stares. Clarke stares. I stare. Roan sighs.
"What?" He asks me.
"You chained her to a wall." I say pointedly.
"I detained her." He argues.
Bellamy pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Those are the same thing." He says.
"No, they aren't." Roan argues.
"Yes, they are." Bellamy retorts.
I groan.
Nothing has changed. Months apart and Roan is still impossible.
Clarke finally speaks.
"Can someone please unlock these?" Clarke asks
"No." Roan and I say at once.
Clarke glares at us. I almost laugh.
Bellamy steps forward.
"Roan," he says.
My brother's expression hardens. Immediately.
"You shouldn't have followed me." He says solemnly. Roan shakes his head.
"You can't take her." Bellamy pleads.
A tense silence settles over the cave. I watch Roan carefully. Something is wrong. Not with Clarke. Not with Bellamy. With him.
He wouldn't risk the terms of his banishment without a reason. Roan looks at Clarke.
"The Commander wants her dead." Roan says finally.
The words hit the cave like a hammer.
Clarke goes still. Bellamy's jaw tightens.
Bellamy takes a step forward.
"Lexa wouldn't—" He begins.
Bellamy obviously doesn't know Lexa. At all.
"She already has." Roan cuts him off.
The cave falls silent. Even Clarke looks surprised. My brother's gaze remains fixed on Bellamy.
"Every bounty hunter in the Coalition is looking for her." He says.
He points toward Clarke.
I slowly turn toward Wanheda.
"Roan." I get my brother's attention. "Why are you delivering her, then?"
He pauses.
"The Commander will lift my banishment." He explains.
Hope flares in my chest. For months, Roan has been a ghost. A trail of footprints that always seemed to disappear before I reached them. Now he's standing in front of me.
And if delivering Wanheda means he can finally come home, I understand.
I have nothing against Clarke. But Roan is my brother. He always will be.
Bellamy immediately steps forward.
"You can't seriously be considering this." He says to me.
I glance at him.
"Why not?" I question.
His expression hardens.
"Because she's a person. Not a bargaining chip." He argues.
Roan scoffs.
"Tell that to the bounty hunters chasing her." Roan says.
Bellamy ignores him. His attention remains fixed on me.
"Y/N, you know this is wrong." He pleads.
The words irritate me more than they should.
"Wrong?" I repeat.
Bellamy nods.
"She saved your people in Mount Weather." He points out.
"The Commander did that." I counter.
The cave falls silent. Bellamy opens his mouth. Then closes it. Because he has no answer for that.
Clarke shifts against her chains.
"You're really okay with handing me over?" She asks.
I meet her gaze.
"I'm okay with my brother coming home." I answer.
The honesty seems to catch her off guard. Roan's expression doesn't change. But I notice the way his shoulders relax slightly. As if he wasn't entirely sure what side I would choose. Bellamy notices too.
"Lexa isn't going to kill her." Bellamy says.
Roan laughs. A short, humorless sound.
"Then why is every clan in the Coalition hunting her?" He asks.
Bellamy doesn't answer. Because he can't. The evidence speaks for itself.
For a moment, nobody says anything. The fire crackles between us.
Then Bellamy takes another step forward.
"I'm not letting you take her." He says.
The warning in Roan's eyes is immediate.
"That's not your decision." Roan replies.
"It is if I stop you." Bellamy counters.
My grip tightens around my sword. My God. Sky People are exhausting.
Roan looks just as unimpressed.
The tension between them stretches tighter.
And judging by the look on my brother's face, Bellamy is about three seconds away from making a very bad decision.
Bellamy moves first. The decision flashes across his face a heartbeat before he acts. He lunges toward Roan.
It isn't a terrible attempt. Just a predictable one.
Roan reacts instantly. His sword clears its sheath in a blur.
The pommel crashes into the side of Bellamy's head with a sickening crack.
Bellamy's momentum dies immediately. His knees buckle. For a brief second, he sways where he stands. Then he collapses to the cave floor. Unconscious.
Silence settles over the cave. Clarke's eyes widen. I wince.
"That looked painful." I comment.
Roan slides his sword back into its sheath.
"He'll live." He says.
The fact that Bellamy is breathing through gritted teeth suggests my brother is correct.
Though Bellamy would likely disagree when he wakes up.
Roan looks down at the unconscious Sky man.
"He's stubborn." Roan comments.
A laugh escapes me.
"You're one to talk." I argue.
For the second time since I arrived, the corner of Roan's mouth twitches upward. Just slightly.
Then his attention shifts back to Clarke. And whatever humor existed vanishes.
I step over Bellamy's unconscious body.
"I'm coming with you." I say.
Roan's expression immediately hardens.
"No." He counters .
I blink.
"No?" I repeat.
"No." He says final.
I fold my arms across my chest.
"That wasn't a request." I argue.
His jaw tightens.
"Y/N." He says.
The warning in his voice would have stopped most people. Unfortunately for him, I am not most people.
"You've been gone for months." I snap. "Now I find you dragging Wanheda halfway across the continent while every bounty hunter in the Coalition is looking for her."
"I can handle myself." I tell him.
"I know." He replies.
Roan knows I'm capable. I'm the God damn war chief. The realization only irritates me further.
"Then what's the problem?" I grunt out.
Roan exhales slowly. His gaze flicks toward Clarke. Then Bellamy. Then back to me.
"The problem is that you're Azgeda's war chief." He answers.
I scoff.
"Since when do you care about titles?" I ask.
"Since my sister became one." He answers.
The words catch me off guard. Just long enough. Roan takes advantage of it. I should have seen coming.
His hand shoots forward. In one smooth movement, he unfastens the sword from my hip. Before I can react, he's already stepped back. Holding it.
I stare. Then slowly look down at the empty sheath.
"You did not just do that." I warn.
"I did." He answers, his lip quirking up.
My eyes narrow. I reach for the knife hidden beneath my cloak.
Roan is faster. Again. He catches my wrist before I can draw it. A second later, the dagger joins my sword.
My jaw drops.
"Seriously?" I scoff.
His expression remains infuriatingly calm.
"You're predictable." He answers.
"You're a menace." I complain.
"Probably." He agrees.
The agreement does not help his case. I reach for the knife hidden in my boot.
Roan's eyebrow rises.
"Really?" He asks.
I freeze.
The traitor knows about that one too. Of course he does. He was there when I first started hiding them.
A grin threatens to break across Clarke's face.
I point at her.
"Don't." I warn.
She is no position to find humor in my frustration. She immediately looks away. Far too innocent.
Roan shifts my confiscated weapons into his free hand.
"I am not letting you come." He says.
"You're not letting me?" I scoff.
The audacity. The absolute audacity.
"I'm not twelve." I argue.
"No." He agrees.
His gaze softens. Just slightly.
"Which is exactly why you should know better." He points out.
The cave suddenly feels very quiet. The teasing disappears. The humor with it.
For the first time since finding him, Roan looks genuinely serious.
"If you help me take Wanheda to Polis, you're choosing a side." He explains.
I open my mouth. He keeps going.
"If Nia hears about it, she'll use it." He finishes.
My stomach twists. Because he's right.
Roan glances toward Clarke. Then back at me.
"You're one of the few people in Azgeda she still trusts." He says.
A bitter laugh almost escapes me. Trust is not the word I'd use. But I understand his point.
"If something goes wrong, she'll blame you." He says.
His voice lowers.
"And if she blames you, I won't be there to stop her." He whispers.
The words hit harder than any punch. For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Roan steps forward. Then presses my sword back into my hands. Not to return it. To make a point. His fingers linger on the hilt.
"You have warriors depending on you." He says.
His gaze holds mine.
"Go back to them." He urges.
I hate that he's making sense. God, I hate it.
Roan releases the weapon. Then turns toward Clarke.
The conversation is over. At least for him.
I watch as he reaches for the chain binding Wanheda to the wall.
And for the first time since finding him alive, I realize that my brother has already made his choice.
The question is whether I'm willing to let him make it alone.
Roan unchains Clarke from the wall. Both of them standing. He looks at me and nods his head. They exit the cave.
I sit down across from an unconscious Bellamy and put my head in my hands.
The fortress hasn't been quiet for days. Not since Nia announced Azgeda's withdrawal from the Coalition.
Since the order to mobilize troops was given, I haven't had a chance to rest.
Every hour another company arrives. Every hour another wagon of supplies passes through the gates. And every hour another messenger carries orders across the Ice Nation.
War is coming. I wonder how many people will die when it does.
I stand over a map in the war room.
Unlike most people, I don't have the luxury of debating the decision. My mother has already made it. Now it's my responsibility to ensure our warriors survive it.
A finger traces one of the supply routes.
"Move these wagons west." I order.
The quartermaster immediately nods.
"Done." He says.
I shift another marker.
"Double scouts along the southern ridge." I say.
"Already underway." He informs.
Good. At least someone is listening.
Around me, generals move through the room carrying reports and casualty projections.
The atmosphere feels different than it did when my father commanded here. Then, wars were discussed. Now, they feel inevitable.
Varen approaches carrying another stack of reports.
"Three more villages answered the Queen's call." He informs me.
I don't look up.
"Numbers?" I question.
"Nearly four hundred warriors." He says.
My jaw tightens. Too many. Every report says the same thing. Azgeda supports Nia. Or at least enough of them do.
The warriors are eager. Most believe that Lexa has favored Trikru for too long and that Azgeda deserves more.
They believe this march will solve something.
I know better. Wars rarely solve the problems people think they will. This war is a lost cause.
"You're thinking too loudly." Echo says, standing in the doorway.
I glance up and roll my eyes.
"That's not a thing." I argue.
"It is when you're involved." She counters.
Echo moves beside the map. Her eyes skim over troop placements. Supply routes. March schedules.
"You disagree with her." She says.
Not a question. A statement.
I place another marker.
"That doesn't matter." I state.
Echo studies me.
"It matters to you." She counters.
Unfortunately, she's right. I don't disagree because I support Lexa. The Coalition has kept the twelve clans in check. That is until now.
I disagree because I spent years learning war from one of the best war chiefs Azgeda ever produced. My father taught me that war should always have a purpose. A clear objective. A clear victory.
I still haven't figured out what victory looks like here.
Breaking away from the Coalition is easy. Living with the consequences is harder.
The doors suddenly swing open.
A scout enters. Snow clings to his cloak. His face is red from the cold.
Every conversation in the room immediately stops.
The scout drops to one knee.
"Report." I order.
His eyes land on me.
"New sightings near the northern territory." He says.
My pulse quickens despite myself. Roan.
"Multiple witnesses." The scout continues.
The room fades away. For weeks every report has ended the same. Either a glimpse or just a rumor. But this feels different. I can tell from the look on his face.
"What did they see?" I question.
The scout hesitates.
"A warrior matching Prince Roan's description." He says.
Hope sparks in my chest. Dangerous hope. The kind that gets people killed.
But before I can speak, the scout adds "he wasn't alone."
And for the first time in weeks, something other than war occupies my thoughts.
Because if Roan is traveling with someone, I want to know who.
—————
By nightfall, the fortress is alive with celebration.
We march tomorrow.
Music drifts through the courtyards. Warriors crowd around fires. Ale flows freely.
Someone is roasting an entire boar in the center of the lower courtyard.
You'd think we'd already won.
I weave through the crowd unnoticed. Or as unnoticed as a princess can be.
The mood is infectious. Dangerously so.
Everywhere I turn, warriors speak about Trikru. About Lexa. About finally showing the Coalition what the Ice Nation is capable of.
Most of them have already convinced themselves this war is a victory.
I stop near one of the fires.
A group of younger warriors sits around it. None of them can be older than 18. One of them notices me. Immediately, they scramble to their feet.
I wave them down.
"Sit." The command is enough.
They obey.
One of the boys looks nervous. Another looks excited. A third looks like he'd rather fight a bear than make conversation with me. I like him already.
"You've been drinking." I observe.
The nervous one nearly chokes. The others laugh.
"A little." He admits.
"A little?" I repeat.
His friend elbows him. The boy winces. I almost smile.
"What village?" I ask.
"Frost Hollow." He answers.
The answer catches me off guard. It's one of the northern settlements. Far from the capital. Far from politics.
"What brings you here?" I ask.
The warriors exchange glances. Then the nervous one answers.
"The Queen called." He says.
Simple as that. The Queen called. And they came. Because that's what Azgeda does. They answer. They fight and bleed. Sometimes they don't come home.
I stare into the flames.
"Have any of you seen battle?" I ask.
Silence.
One warrior shifts uncomfortably. Another looks away. The answer is obvious.
No.
None of them have. Not real battle. Not the kind that stays with you. I look around the fire. At their excitement and confidence. Their certainty.
For a moment, I see myself years ago.
Before my first campaign. Before my first kill. Before I understood what war actually costs.
"Your Highness?" One of them asks.
I blink.
The nervous warrior is watching me. Waiting. I realize I never continued. Never told them what they wanted to hear. That war is glorious and that victory is guaranteed. That they'll return home as heroes. I never said anything.
Finally, I stand.
The warriors immediately rise with me.
"Get some sleep." I say.
Confusion crosses several faces.
"Tomorrow?" one asks.
I glance toward the dark fortress walls.
Toward the war room, the maps, and toward the reports of Roan. Toward the war waiting for all of us.
"Tomorrow you'll wish you had." I tell them.
Without another word, I walk away. The celebration continues behind me. I hear laughter and music, the sounds of hope.
I wonder how much of it will survive what's coming.
The war room is my favorite place in the fortress. And it hasn't changed at all since I first set foot in it as a child.
The same carved maps cover the walls. The same long table dominates the center of the chamber. The same scent of ink, leather, and smoke lingers in the air.
For a moment, I hesitate in the doorway. Because this used to be his room. My father's.
Years ago, I spent more time here than in my own quarters.
While other children played, I sat beside my father as war generals argued over supply lines and scouting reports.
At twelve, I was organizing patrol routes. At fourteen, I accompanied military campaigns. And at sixteen, I was second-in-command of Azgeda's armies.
Some of the older warriors hated it. Most eventually learned better.
The conversations die as I enter. War generals rise from their seats.
Not because I'm a princess. Because they know me. Because I've bled beside many of them.
Because some of them still remember my father standing where I stand now.
"Your Highness." General Varen nods his head.
I grimace.
"Stop calling me that." I tell him.
Several warriors chuckle.
"The Queen would disagree." He chides.
"Nia isn't here." I argue.
It's not that I hate my title. I've learned to bear it. But in a room full of warriors, I want to be respected for my skill, not because of my birthright.
I move toward the map table.
"What do we have here?" I question.
Immediately the room shifts.
A scout places several markers across the northern border.
"Reports from three patrols."
I study them. My father taught me never to look at individual reports. Look for patterns. Anyone can see what is happening.
A war chief sees why.
I move two markers. Then another. The answer becomes obvious.
"They're testing our defenses." I say.
The scout blinks.
"Who?" He asks.
"Doesn't matter." I state.
I tap the map.
"Someone wants to know how quickly Azgeda responds to a threat." I explain.
The room falls silent. Varen slowly smiles. The same smile he used to give my father.
"You saw that quickly." A man with a peppered stubble, Keegan, says impressed.
I shrug.
"It wasn't subtle." I state.
Several warriors exchange looks.
One of the younger warriors speaks up.
"You really think it means something?" He asks skeptically.
I look at him. Then at the map. Then back at him.
"Battles are won before swords are drawn." I tell him.
The room grows quiet. The words feel strange coming from my mouth. Because they aren't mine. They're his.
For a moment, nobody speaks. Then Varen clears his throat.
"Your father also said never ignore a pattern." He adds.
I nod.
"Exactly." I nod my head.
The older warrior's gaze lingers on me. It's thoughtful, if not almost sad. Finally, he looks away.
And I realize something.
For months, everyone has been treating me like a princess who survived Mount Weather. Like someone who needed time.
But standing here, surrounded by maps and warriors, I remember who I was before the mountain. Before all of it.
I wasn't just Nia's daughter or Roan's sister. I was my father's second. The War Chief who took his place.
And judging by the way every warrior in this room is looking at me, they haven't forgotten it.
A heavy silence settles over the room.
Then Keegan reaches forward and places another marker on the map.
Not along our northern border. South. Near Trikru territory.
My brow furrows.
"What's this?" I ask.
The warriors exchange glances.
Varen is the one who answers.
"The Queen has ordered additional troops to gather near the southern border." He says.
My eyes narrow.
"How many?" I question.
"Five hundred." He states.
Several warriors shift uncomfortably.
Five hundred warriors isn't a patrol and it's not a defensive position. It's an army.
I look down at the map. The pieces begin falling into place. The increased weapons production. The supply stockpiles. The messengers constantly moving through the fortress. Preparations, not for defense. For war.
"Nia wants to march." I conclude.
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. No one argues. No one denies it. That tells me everything. I guess a lot changed while I was gone.
Keegan folds his arms across his chest.
"Many believe the Coalition has grown weak." He says.
A younger commander snorts.
"We kneel to Lexa while Trikru receives every advantage." He adds.
Several warriors nod in agreement.
"The Mountain Men slaughtered our people for years," Lyra says. "What did the Commander do? Negotiate."
The room grows louder. Frustration spills from every corner. Years of resentment. Years of believing Azgeda has been treated as twelfth to all the clans.
I remain silent and listening.
My father always said angry warriors are predictable. The dangerous ones are the warriors who speak calmly.
Finally, Varen speaks.
"The Queen believes Azgeda has outgrown the Coalition." He says.
The room falls quiet. I stare at the map. At the marker sitting near Trikru territory. At the hundreds of warriors being gathered.
At the path they would take south. A path that leads directly toward conflict.
"Does she intend to leave the Coalition?" I ask.
No one answers immediately. That answer is answer enough.
My jaw tightens. Because I know my mother. And once Nia sets her sights on something, she rarely changes course.
"The generals are waiting for your recommendation." Lyra advises.
I glance up. Several pairs of eyes are fixed on me. Because they want to know if I see something they don't.
I study the map one last time. Then slowly shake my head.
"If we're preparing for war, then someone is preparing to benefit from it." I say slowly.
Confusion spreads across a few faces.
I tap the southern border.
"Trikru knows we resent them," Then I tap the northern reports. "And someone is testing our defenses at the same time."
The room goes still. Varen's expression darkens.
"You think the two are connected." He states.
"I think someone wants Azgeda looking south." I correct.
For the first time since entering the room, uncertainty creeps into the commanders' faces. Good. War should make people uncertain. Overconfidence gets people killed.
Outside, snow lashes against the fortress walls.
Inside, warriors begin quietly discussing troop movements and supply lines.
But my attention remains on the map. On the southern border. On Trikru and the growing divide within the Coalition.
For the first time, I realize the question is no longer if Azgeda will break away. It's when.
The crack of wood echoes across the training yard.
Huron stumbles backward.
I don't give him a chance to recover. My staff swings again. He barely blocks it. The force of the impact sends him sprawling into the snow. A few nearby warriors wince.
I point the staff at his chest.
"Dead."
The young warrior groans.
Around us, dozens of Azgeda warriors continue training. The courtyard is packed despite the cold. Snow drifts through the air while steel clashes against steel.
While the cold is making my fingers stiff, I don't complain. The cold doesn't care about complaints.
"Again," I order.
Huron blinks.
"Your Highness—" he says.
"Again." I say leaving no room for discussion.
He scrambles to his feet. Nearby onlookers exchange nervous looks.
I know what they're thinking. I've been back a little over month and I've been in a foul mood ever since I passed through the gates. Taking it out on everyone. Especially during training.
Huron charges. Just like I knew he would. I sidestep and sweep his legs out from beneath him. He lands flat on his back.
"Dead." I say, pointing my staff to his throat.
A few snickers spread through the crowd. With one look, all noises cease.
I offer Huron a hand.
He closes his eyes, then begrudgingly accepts.
"You're telegraphing your attacks." I tell him, heading to the weapon racks.
He brushes snow from his clothes.
"I know." He grunts.
I fix him with a glare.
"No. You don't." I tell him.
Huron sighs. He looks defeated.
"Don't look so beat up," I say.
The warrior rubs the back of his neck and glares at me.
"You knocked me into the snow." Huron says.
I shrug.
"I trained you. I know what move you're going to make before you even know you're going to make it." I tell smirk.
A few nearby warriors laugh. His expression darkens.
"That's not fair." He counters.
"Life isn't fair." My expression hardens.
He opens his mouth to argue.
I point at him.
"And that's why you're dead." I tell him.
Huron groans.
"I hate sparring with you." He complains.
"Get better, then." I chide.
Despite his complaints, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. I clap him on the shoulder.
"You lasted longer than the others." I tease.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He huffs.
"No." I tell him.
He nods his head.
"You're dismissed." I wave him off with a hand.
I spot Echo approaching from the corner of my eye.
"You broke three of them before breakfast." She says crossing her arms.
I turn toward her, cocking my head with a lazy smile.
"Only three?" I ask.
She rolls her eyes.
"How many, then?" She asks.
"Five." I say.
She chuckles.
Together, we head toward the dining hall.
Nia has always frowned upon eating with our people. She says rulers should remain above their subjects.
I've never agreed. If I expect warriors to bleed for Azgeda, then I can sit beside them while they eat.
The dining hall is packed by the time we arrive. The smell of roasted meat and woodsmoke fills the air. Conversations bounce off the stone walls.
The room gradually quiets as I enter. Warriors straighten. Several bow their heads. Others move aside, creating a path through the crowd.
I grab a wooden tray and move down the line.
A woman serving breakfast immediately piles an extra portion onto my plate.
"Thank you," I tell her.
She nearly drops the ladle.
Echo smirks.
"You know they think you're strange." She says states.
"Because I said thank you?" I ask annoyed.
"Because you're a princess who says thank you." She states offhandedly.
I shake my head.
The two of us settle at a long table near the center of the hall. Immersed with everyone else.
Conversation slowly resumes around us. For a few minutes, the only sounds are clattering dishes and the crackle of the hearth.
Then a group of warriors enters from the cold. Fresh from patrol. Snow dusts their cloaks.
One of them catches my attention immediately.
Seiku. One of Roan's most trusted warrior's.
He moves directly toward our table. Echo notices too.
"That's odd." She comments.
The man stops a few feet away and bows his head.
"Your Highness." He says, bowing his head.
I set down my fork.
"What is it?" I ask.
The warrior glances around the crowded hall. As if making sure no one else is listening. Then he lowers his voice.
"We received reports near the northern border." He says.
My pulse quickens.
"What kind of reports?" I question.
Seiku hesitates.
"A lone Azgeda warrior." He says finally.
The room suddenly feels very still. Echo slowly turns toward me. I already know who he's talking about.
Roan.
The warrior swallows.
"He was seen three days ago." He says.
I nod my head in thanks.
"You are dismissed." I tell him.
Seiku bows his head. He exits the hall.
For the first time in weeks, hope sparks inside my chest.
I force myself to keep eating, though the food suddenly tastes like ash.
Across from me, Echo watches carefully. She knows me too well.
"Don't." She chides.
I look up.
"Don't what?" I ask, cocking a brow.
She gives me a look.
"Whatever it is that you're thinking." She says.
I snort.
"That's very specific." I roll my eyes.
"It doesn't need to be." Echo tears off a piece of bread. "Your brother has been spotted near the northern border and suddenly you look like you're planning something."
I stab a piece of meat with more force than necessary.
"I'm not planning anything." I grunt out.
"Right." She says.
The disbelief in her voice is immediate. I glare at her.
"Three days ago," I say quietly.
Echo's expression softens.
"I know." She says.
Echo has always been closer to Roan. When she wasn't carrying out my mother's orders, she was usually carrying out his.
Our time in Mount Weather changed something between Echo and me. Weeks trapped in cages have a way of stripping away formalities.
She's no longer just one of my mother's spies. Or one of Roan's trusted warriors. She's my friend. Though neither of us would ever admit that aloud.
I stir my food around my plate. I've completely lost my appetite.
Across from me, Echo notices.
"You should eat." She says.
"I'm not hungry." I argue.
"That's a lie." She huffs.
I glance up. She doesn't even look away. I sigh.
The truth is, I want nothing more than to saddle a horse and ride north. To find Roan. To lay my eyes on him.
But I can't afford to disappear. I have responsibilities. An entire clan watching my every move. And if I disappear, people will notice. Especially Nia.
The thought alone is enough to make me grimace.
A comfortable silence settles over us. Then Echo reaches across the table and steals a piece of bread from my plate.
I stare at her. She takes a bite.
"You weren't eating it." She defends taking a bite.
I narrow my eyes. She shrugs. My lip quirks up.
Later that night, I find myself standing outside Roan's quarters.
The guards posted nearby pretend not to notice me. I appreciate it.
The door creaks open beneath my hand. Nothing has changed. His bed remains untouched. His weapons still hang on the wall. A half-carved wooden figure sits abandoned on his desk. Something our father taught us.
I pick up the carving. Roan had been working on it for months. It's supposed to be a bear, but looks more like some kind of a deformed wolf. He was never particularly good at carving. I used to make fun of him for it.
He was alive three days ago. The thought is at the forefront of my mind.
I set the carving back down and move toward the window. Snow falls beyond the fortress walls. The mountains stretch endlessly into the darkness.
And for the first time since returning home, I allow myself to hope. Not that he'll come back. Roan has always been stubborn. If he returns, it'll be on his own terms. I simply hope that wherever he is tonight, he's alive.
We make our way out of the mountain. I take the lead, with Echo at my side. The line of Grounders stretches far behind us, filling the corridors.
The halls that were once crawling with guards now stand deserted. Security stations sit abandoned. Doors hang open. Not a single Mountain Man crosses our path. No doubt they've cleared the levels because of our release.
Still, I don't trust it.
Echo seems to sense my unease.
"You think it's a trap?" She asks.
"I think Mount Weather doesn't do anything out of kindness," I say. "I have no idea what Heda agreed to."
She nods in agreement.
Neither of us says anything else.
The only sounds are the shuffle of footsteps and the occasional cough from one of the wounded prisoners.
We continue upward through the mountain.
The massive doors at the end of the corridor stand open. Moonlight filters in. After weeks trapped under ground, the fresh air fills my lungs.
Grounders continue pouring out of the mountain behind me. Some fall to their knees. Others simply stand there, staring at the sky as if they're seeing it for the first time.
I don't stop. My eyes are already searching the crowd. Looking for one person. Lexa.
It doesn't take long to find her.
The Commander stands near the front of the army, flanked by her guards. A blonde girl stands across from her.
Even from a distance, I can tell something is wrong. The tension between them is palpable.
The girl's face is pale. Her eyes are wide with disbelief. Lexa's expression is unreadable.
I push through the crowd and warriors step aside as they recognize me. The closer I get, the more of the conversation I hear.
"You left them in there," the girl says.
Her voice is quiet. The kind of quiet that comes when you've lost everything.
"We save our people," Lexa replies.
I stop several feet away. My gaze flicks between them.The girl looks devastated. Lexa looks resolute. Neither notices me at first.
"You were willing to let my people die," the girl says.
Lexa doesn't look away.
"I made the choice that ensured the survival of my people, Clarke." Lexa says, her voice sharp and unwavering.
So this is Clarke. The girl who has been fighting the war from the outside.
Clarke's hands are shaking.
"You left them there." She says.
Lexa doesn't flinch. "I saved my people."
"You betrayed mine." Clarke laughs bitterly.
The words hang in the air.
Neither of them has noticed me yet. I make my presence known.
"Heda, is it true?" I ask Lexa.
Lexa fixes me with a look.
"Yes." She says no room for discussion.
Clarke walks away.
My jaw tightens.
I understand why she took the deal. I hate that it's the same choice I would have made. Our people come first.
Hell, less than a day ago, I would've traded every Sky Person in that mountain for the freedom of my people without a second thought.
Lexa studies me carefully.
"You disagree," she says finally.
I stare past her toward the mountain. I really don't. But I know the horrors that the Sky People are being subjected to. It's a fate no one deserves.
"No." I say.
She raises a brow.
"It's the same choice I would have made." I tell her.
"Then why do you look troubled?" she asks.
For a moment, I don't answer. Because I don't know how to explain it. Every time I close my eyes, I still feel the weight of the horrors inside that mountain.
"Because now I'm the one walking away." I say.
The words hang between us.
Lexa turns and walks away with a nod of her head.
Echo stands beside me.
"Your Highness," she begins. "Our people are ready to leave."
My people are exhausted. They're ready to go home. And they need their princess, their leader.
I square my shoulders. Then I turn back toward the mountain.
Somewhere inside, the Sky People are still fighting. Somewhere inside, Bellamy Blake is still fighting. I wonder if he'll make it out. The thought lingers longer than it should.
"Your Highness?" Echo prompts.
I tear my eyes away from the mountain. The past is behind me now. My people need me.
"Let's go home." I say to the crowd.
The column begins moving.
Slowly, the mountain disappears behind the trees.
But even as it vanishes from sight, I can't shake the feeling that this isn't the end. It's only the beginning.
—————
After two long weeks, our people arrive safely in our boarders. The Ice Nation capital is exactly as I remember it.
Cold and unforgiving. But it's home.
Snow crunches beneath my boots as I make my way through the fortress. Warriors bow their heads as I pass. Some offer congratulations on my return. Others stare.
Word of the Mountain has traveled fast.
The princess who survived the Mountain. The Princess who delivered our people back home.
The massive doors to the throne room swing open.
Queen Nia sits atop her throne, draped in furs.
I immediately kneel.
"Your Majesty." I say.
A smirk touches her lips.
"Rise." She says.
I do.
The throne room is nearly empty. Just a handful of guards stand watch along the walls.
Nia studies me for a long moment.
"You survived." She says, impressed.
"Obviously." I smirk.
Her lip quirks. The closest thing to approval I'll ever receive from her.
"I heard you led the prisoners out yourself." She states.
"I did." I nod my head.
"And?" She questions.
I know what she's asking.
Would I have made the same decision? The decision she would have made. Not the decision my father would have made.
"The Commander made the right choice." I say.
"As expected," she says.
A strange silence settles between us.
Then I notice it. The empty space beside the throne. The place where Roan usually stands.
My stomach tightens.
"Where is Roan?" I ask.
Nia's expression changes instantly. The amusement disappears. Coldness takes its place.
"Your brother has been banished." She says final.
"What?" I exclaim.
I take a step forward before I can stop myself.
"He wouldn't leave." I say.
"He didn't," She almost smiles. "He questioned my authority."
My heart sinks. Of course he did. The closer he's gotten to his succession, the more critical he's become of our mother's ruling.
"What did he do?" I challenge.
"He forgot his place." Nia's voice is sharp.
I stare at her. Trying to process what she's saying. I don't understand what could have happened while I've been gone. She's always favored my brother, making sure he'd be fit for the crown. What changed?
"Where is he?" I ask.
Nia walks down the steps toward me.
"Beyond our borders." She says.
My stomach drops. He's alone beyond the safety of our boarders. Anyone will be hunting him, just because he's the heir apparent. Well apparently not anymore, but still it's a death sentence.
I go to speak. But Nia cuts me off.
"He is no longer of your concern." She says with no room for discussion.
I clench my jaw. He is my elder brother. He will always be of my concern.
Nia notices my expression immediately.
"Careful." She chides.
The warning hangs in the air.
I force my face blank. The last thing Roan needs is for me to join him in exile.
After a moment, Nia seems satisfied. She turns away.
"Azgeda needs a successor." She says dismissively.
The meaning is clear. Roan is gone.
That leaves me.
For the first time in my life, the throne feels closer than ever.
And somehow that terrifies me more than Mount Weather ever did.
"You are dismissed." She says with a wave of her hand.
I bow my head and turn away. The throne room doors close behind me with a heavy thud.
I should have known something was wrong when Roan wasn't there to greet me upon my arrival.
I feel stupid for not realizing it sooner. But deep down, I know there was nothing I could have done. Even if I'd been here. Nia has never really listened to me.
To her, I'm impulsive. Reckless. Too much like my father. The thought stings more than I'd like to admit. Especially because part of me believes she's right.
My relationship with Nia has never recovered after my father's death. After all, it was me he died protecting. She never said it outright. She didn't have to.
I saw it every time she looked at me afterward. Every time she dismissed my opinions in council. Every time she reminded me that actions have consequences.
As if I could ever forget. The weight of that guilt has followed me my entire life. I survived. He didn't. And Nia has never forgiven either of us for it.
By the time I reach my quarters, exhaustion has settled deep into my bones.
The familiar wooden door stands before me. I push it open and step inside. The room is exactly as I left it. Furs draped across the bed. Weapons mounted on the wall. A half-finished carving sitting untouched on the windowsill.
For the first time in weeks, everything is familiar. It should be comforting. Instead, it only makes the emptiness feel worse.
Roan should be here. He should be making some smart remark. Telling me I look terrible. Asking if Mount Weather finally managed to kill my sense of humor.
I close the door behind me and lean against it. My eyes drift to the empty chair beside the fireplace. Roan used to sit there whenever he came to annoy me. Which was often.
I cross the room and sink onto the edge of my bed. I kick off my boots and lie back against the mattress. The lump in my throat returns. The ceiling comes into focus above me. Exhaustion settles over me like a heavy blanket. Then darkness pulls me under.
Alarms blare everywhere. We slide around a corner and duck into an empty maintenance room. Bellamy shuts the door.
He presses a hand to his radio.
"Raven, we're alive," he relays.
Static crackles.
"Good. Because Mount Weather just locked down every level." She says.
"We noticed." Bellamy replies.
I bounce on my toes. Out of the corner of my eye I spot an axe encased in glass. I duck out the room, making sure it's clear. I retreat inside and punch the glass container. Bellamy eyes me at the sound. My knuckles bleed. I grasp the axe, giving it a spin.
"We're running out of time," he tells me.
Like I need to be told. The entire damn mountain is looking for us now.
He pulls out a map.
"The control room is two levels up," he says, pointing to a section near the center. "The harvest chamber is down here."
I study it. My decision is already made.
"See you on the flip side." I tell him, heading towards the door.
"Y/N, wait," he grabs my wrist. I instinctively wrench it free. "We're not splitting up."
I shake my head.
"I don't take orders from you." I say.
"I'm serious." He clenches his jaw.
"So am I." I step closer. "My people are down there. Every second we stand here arguing is another second they're trapped."
He knows that we need to split up. That's the rational thing to do. Still, he doesn't look convinced.
"I'm freeing my people," I tell him. "We're done here."
Something flashes across his face. I don't have the time to decipher what it is. But eventually, he nods. He understands.
"Don't die." He says determined.
A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
He must've forgotten. I've been trained for this my entire life.
"I won't." I tell him.
Then I turn and push through the door.
A deafening siren echoes through the corridor while red emergency lights flash overhead. The entire mountain feels alive, scrambling to recover from the chaos Bellamy and I unleashed.
Good.
Let them panic.
They won't be able to much longer.
I move quickly, keeping close to the wall as I navigate the maze of hallways. The map is burned into my memory.
Down two levels. Across the east corridor. The harvest chamber.
A group of guards rushes past the intersection ahead of me.
I flatten myself against the wall and hold my breath. None of them spare me a second glance.
They're running toward the explosion. Toward Bellamy.
The thought makes me hesitate. Just for a second. Then I push it aside. Bellamy can take care of himself.
I slip into a stairwell and descend two flights. The lower levels are quieter. The alarms can faintly be heard.
My pace quickens at the sight of the reinforced door comes into view.
Two guards stand watch outside it.
They haven't noticed me yet. My fingers find one of the buttons on my blouse. I rip it free and toss it down the corridor opposite my position.
The button clatters against the floor. Both guards immediately turn toward the sound.
"What was that?" one of them asks.
I don't wait for an answer. I sprint forward.
By the time they realize what's happening, I'm already on them.
The blade of my axe slams into the first guard's stomach. The second guard reaches for his weapon. I swing the blunt end of the axe into the side of his head. The crack echoes through the hallway. He collapses instantly.
My chest rises and falls rapidly as I scan for witnesses.
I crouch beside one of the dead guards and wipe the blood from my hands onto the front of his uniform.
Then I grab the keycard clipped to his belt.
The card reader beside the door flashes red. I swipe it. For a moment, nothing happens. Then the light turns green. A mechanical click echoes through the corridor. The lock disengages. I tighten my grip on the axe and pull open the door.
The smell hits me first. Blood. Fear.
I have not missed this place in the slightest.
My eyes scan every cage for Echo. Hoping that I'm not too late.
Her brown eyes meet mine and I rush forward.
The lock doesn't stand a chance. I bring the axe down hard. Metal snaps and clatters to the floor. The cage door swings open.
Echo stumbles out. She's thinner than before. Paler. Dark circles shadow her eyes.
"Your Highness." She breathes.
I pull in her for bone crushing hug. It takes her a second to hug me back. Considering we've never hugged in the past.
"Can you walk?" I ask her.
She nods.
"I can fight." She says with a cocky smile.
"Good." I press the axe into her hands. "Start opening cages."
She nods and immediately gets to work.
The clang of metal echoes throughout the harvest chamber. Rattling cages and yelling growers louder. The noise is deafening and dangerous.
"Silence!" My voice cuts through the room.
The chamber gradually falls quiet.
"We are not free yet," I say firmly.
The room remains silent.
"Mount Weather knows we're here. Guards are coming."
Fear and defeat takes their faces.
"They took our people. They caged us. They bled us." I continue.
Anger flashes across countless faces.
Good. Let them remember.
"But today we take back our freedom."
The words hang in the air.
"When those doors open, we move as one." I point to the exit. "We protect the wounded. We protect each other. Clan divisions are forgotten."
A ghost of smile stretches my face.
"For now." I add.
Our people are ready. And they're ready for bloodshed.
I catch the flicker of red above the door a second before I hear the buzz of a keycard. The door slides open.
A young man in a sharp suit steps through, flanked by several guards.
The room tenses. I raise my axe.
The man holds up both hands.
"Wait." He says.
Nobody lowers their weapon.
"No more bloodshed," he says calmly. "You are free to go. Your people are waiting outside the main doors."
A murmur ripples through the chamber.
I narrow my eyes. This has to be a trick.
After everything they've done to us, why would they simply let us walk away?
The man seems to read the suspicion on my face.
"I know you're skeptical," he continues. "You have every right to be."
You can say that again.
"But I have reached an agreement with your leader." He announces.
Lexa.
"I intend to honor my end of that agreement," he says. "You are free to leave Mount Weather."
For a long moment, nobody moves. Nobody speaks.
The man gives a small nod before turning away. The guards follow. The doors slide shut behind them and silence settles over the chamber.
"What the hell?" I mutter.
Echo appears beside me.
Every cage has been opened now. Every prisoner stands free.
"Do we trust him?" she asks quietly.
I stare at the closed doors.
Everything about this feels wrong. Too easy. But if Lexa truly made a deal... Then there may not be another choice. I trust the Commander.
My people are exhausted and wounded. They need to get out of this mountain.
I look around the room. At the faces staring back at me. Waiting.
Finally, I make my decision.
"No. But I trust Heda." I say. "We move."
The uncertainty doesn't leave me, but I bury it. For now.
"Let's march." I turn toward the exit.
The doors open once more.
And together, hundreds of freed prisoners begin making their way out of the harvest chamber.
Toward freedom.
Or whatever version of it is waiting for us outside.
