Mama I'm in love with a criminal

Multifandom | Andréa Justine | 21 | she/her

[justinewt]

THE MASTERLISTS

Find everything I wrote here ↓

Marvel [OFF&ON] 

Once Upon A Time  [DONE] 

The Walking Dead  [DONE]

Fear The Walking Dead [ABORTED]

The Witcher [OFF&ON] 

The 100 [OFF&ON] -- once or twice a week

The Maze Runner  [DONE]

Detroit : Become Human [DONE] 

Until Dawn [DONE]

Red Dead Redemption 2 [ON HOLD] 

Money Heist : Korea - Joint Economic Area [ABORTED] 

Those About to Die [ON HOLD INDEFINITELY] -- until Season 2 comes out, if it ever does :(

Baldur’s Gate 3  [OFF&ON] 

Game of Thrones Universe [OFF&ON] 

List to all my characters’ bios

Future fics in the works ↓ (I might never actually write/post some of them, like the ones that are crossed out; they’re never seeing the light of day lol but i made the characters’ bios)

Mr. Robot [SEQUEL]

Harry Potter Saga [REWRITE] 

Stranger Things - Descent of Persephone [REWRITE]

Star Wars Saga : Survivor of the Nighsisters [SEQUEL]

The Sandman [REWRITE]

Tokyo Ghoul  [REWRITE]

Crimson Peak: Gothic Hauntings [SEQUEL]

NB:  I already wrote dozens of potential fics since middle school but never posted them, the fics listed under “possible future fics” are the most likely to ever get posted in the next few years, before the day I’ll stop posting because I’ll be an adult and I’ll have to get my shit together lol the real world is so boring I swear :(

NB.2: idk if the fics “in the works” are ever gonna see the light of day cause I might never have the time/motivation to work on them by the time I really start my adult life and all and if they’re not started or already finished by then I’ll def never have enough time to dedicate to writing them 

by Andrea

[amarenacherriezzz]

[justinewt]

The Puppeteer And The Dragon - GOT FANFICTION Chapter Two

[GAME OF THRONES MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (SOON)

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: A knight of the Seven Kingdoms season 1 (episode 3 "The squire"), emotional abuse, the POV switches from Dunk (a couple times in small paragraphs/dialogues) to my oc the rest of the time, physical violence, animal cruelty

“Your bath is ready, m’lady. The water’s warm, and I put the herbs the Maester gave us.” The maid said, upon entering the chambers. She was alone. Aerion had gone off Gods know where after they had some breakfast with the Lord of Ashford Meadow and his daughter. A cute girl, who seemed particularly astonished by her violet eyes. Not all Targaryens had them anymore. Her father, prince Maekar, had left Ashford as well, in search for Daeron and Aegon, wherever they had gone off to. They should have arrived by then. They were over a day late, and that was abnormal.

While she followed her maid to the bath, she wondered what Aerion would be up to today, knowing their father wouldn’t be there watching. She prayed to the Gods, he would behave himself, but maybe deep down, she already knew he wouldn’t. The princess held her belly, every now and then, she felt a contraction, but she had been told by the wet nurses at Summerhall that it could happen towards the end of the pregnancy, and the advice they gave her, to recognize if it was a sign of labor was to check for the frequence and regularity of them, and the pain. She felt no pain when they happened, barely any discomfort, and they were quite far apart from each other throughout the day. She wasn’t due for a few more weeks. She got undressed, and while leaning onto her maid, she lifted her leg and put her foot down in the tub. She brought the other in and slipped in the water. It was indeed warm, and smelled and felt nice, as she had told her.

The servant girl asked if she wanted her hair combed, or if she wanted to be alone, and if so that she would stay right outside the door, but the princess agreed to getting her hair combed, “I would like my hair braided as well.”

She smiled, “Of course, m’lady. You know how I love braiding your hair.”

There was no joust this morning, so she could take her sweet time in the bath and would only deign come out when the water would have gone cold. The water had gone up to right under her collarbones. She let her hands fall from the edges and closed her eyes, tilted her head backwards, feeling the teeth of the comb softly running through her hair. Her hands rested around her womb. The princess had been checked by the Maester before leaving for Ashford, and everything was up to the mark, so he permitted the journey. A wet nurse had accompanied her and the maid, of course, just in case, but this time she felt the baby would be unblemished, and Aerion would forgive her the fact she had delivered a stillborn for a first son. She wished her mother could be with them to accompany her and witness the birth of her grandchild.

She felt tears forming under her eyelids and she brought her hand, full of water, to wet her face, and took a steady, deep breath. She tried to think of something else, and pictured herself in her perfect world, which she imagined every night as she fell asleep. The sun would shine, casting its warm light over Summerhall. Her mother would be there, smiling, in her beautiful purple dress. She always wore some shade of purple, with her hair twisted and thrown over her shoulder. Her father would be there. All her brothers and sisters too. Everyone sitting around the diner table, chatting and eating together. Aerea could see her son Maegor, and her unborn baby, now a toddler, unable to sit still on their chairs, bickering. Aerion would sit right next to her. His stare would be just a kind look, as handsome as ever in the sun’s warm orange light which flooded the room, as he held her hand up to his lips and placed a kiss onto her knuckles.

She wished her dreams came true, as her brother Daeron said his did. Daeron, and Aegon. She hoped they were okay, and that no harm had come to them on the way to the tournament. Her dear brothers. She recalled Daeron once telling her that he wished he was a better man, maybe then he would have married her instead of Aerion, but that even if he got the chance to do so now, he was underserving of her. It did get her wondering, how a marriage with him would have been. He had also added, “I wish I only had dreams about you, my sweet sister. My nights would have been better for it.”, and a faint smile appeared on her lips. Her maid had started styling her hair into a fishtail braid, starting it in the middle of her head. She hummed a soft tune.

“Where did you say you were from, Nymia?”

“Dorne, m’lady. Like your mother, Lady Dyanna Dayne, and your grandmother, Queen consort, Myriah Martell.”

“Ah, yes.” Dorne. Princess Aerea had felt somewhat foreign to that part of her heritage. Unlike her uncle Baelor, who had taken after his mother’s Dornish features, with his dark hair, his tanner skin and brown eyes, unlike Maekar, and the rest of the latter’s children, most of whom had inherited typical Targaryen traits, but Daeron has a kind of dirty blonde colour to his hair, she thought, while their sister, Daella, had brown hair, same tint as their mother. Out of their parents’ seven children, and even out of their 5 other cousins, only Maekar’s twins, Aemon and Aegon, had the Targaryen look. Others had blonde, brown, or black hair. As she thought about her family, she felt herself holding her chin up, pride of her looks. The vestiges of the great House Targaryen.

Nymia tied the end of her braid with a swift twist of her fingers and put her hands on the princess’ shoulders, “All done, m’lady.”

“Thank you. Fetch me my raiment.”

The maid stood up to go get her tunic and dress, while the princess stepped out of the bath, feeling rested, drying herself with the long piece of linen folded on a stool nearby. She slid her linen tunic down her body, then slipped on her crimson velvet dress. Many of her gowns were made of velvet, as she favoured that specific fabric for its heaviness and soft touch, unlike the silk dresses she almost never wore because those felt too smooth and slippery on her skin, and she was always so cold. Aerion merely warmed the bed they shared when night fell. He did not wrap his arms around her. Sometimes, when she had contractions in the witching hour, she would take in the quietness of the night, and turn her head on the pillow, to observe Aerion as he slept. When he was turned towards her, she could look at his face. He seemed so peaceful, and as though he would never hurt a fly.

Someone knocked on the door, calling for the princess to join her family in the dining room. It must have been almost noon already. She had finished getting dressed so she left her maid and the other servants to empty and clean the bath and followed the guard waiting for her. They walked in silence down the narrow corridor. At the table sat her uncle on one end, Lord Ashford on the other. His daughter had her back to the door through which the princess entered, and looked at her over her shoulder, following her with her gaze as she went to take her place next to Aerion, on the opposite side. Right across from them was Valarr’s seat. Her father, Maekar, had yet to return. She wondered how far he had gone to search for their brothers.

As Aerion chewed on a piece of bread, he asked with a nonchalant air, “Since Daeron isn’t here, I will be jousting against Lord Hardyng this afternoon.”

“Oh, well,” A servant brought forth wine and served some in her cup, and she took a sip, giving her brother-husband, plastering a smile onto her face. “I will come watch the joust. I feel restored from yesterday's journey.”

“Yes. Your father is absent, come fill in his seat.” The latter spoke.

She nodded, quite glad. They were then served some roasted meat, and fish dishes, along with a warm soup, and bread and wine to the side. They then parted ways. Aerion left with the other knights, to go put on his armour, and as the fanfare’s horns rang throughout Ashford Meadow, drawing the crowd near the joust field, Baelor and his niece took their places on the grandstand, with the Lord and his daughter.

“Son of Maekar, grandson of King Daeron the Good and Prince of House Targaryen, Prince Aerion Brightflame.” The herald called.

While Egg climbed on the fence, to gain some height, Dunk noticed the pregnant princess. He remembered her from last night. She was the one Egg said to have married her twin brother. She was sitting next to Baelor, in the place of the white-haired and stern looking Prince Maekar. He wasn’t there today it seemed. He had heard about the prince’s sons being missing and assumed he had gone to search for them.

Aerion rode in on his bay-brown horse, wearing a dark armour, from which hang his crimson cape in his back, and his helm had the shape of human’s face at the front, and black spikes with red-painted tips at the back, like a dragon. The mold of the face felt unsettling to say the least. He stopped in the middle of the lane and turned his horse towards the grandstands to dip his lance to Baelor. Dunk could only see the prince’s back. The crown prince gave his nephew a nod, and the latter grinned, before trotting to the north end of the field, towards Valarr’s tent. He stood up, standing stiff by his shield at the latter’s approach. For a moment, Dunk thought he meant to strike it, but he laughed. His lips moved as he spoke a few words to his cousin, before passing by his opponent’s tent, taunting him loudly, “Come out, come out, little knight. It’s time you face the dragon.” He gave his horse a thrust and swift kick of the heel and turned around. Lord Hardyng ignored him and mounted, taking up lance and shield, and dashed forward on the back of his steed. He was acclaimed by the crowd as a rode before them and took his place on the other end of the lane. A strong wind fluttered the flags of the Houses. The sky was a dull grey today. Aerea frowned slightly at the sensation of her belly tightening, getting firmer to her touch for but a moment.

The knights faced each other from the long distance that opposed them, and at the sound of the horn, rode off at a gallop. At this instant, Dunk heard Egg shout, “Kill him! Kill him!” He couldn’t tell for which knight he was shouting.

As they neared each other, Ser Hardyng aimed his lance, but Aerion dodged swiftly, leaning to the side, and pulling his horse away. The crowd was displeased, most likely because there was no big crash of a lance against a shield and booed in unison. They went back for the second tilt, and unlike Dunk, Princess Aerea didn’t notice how much lower Aerion held his lance. This time, as they neared, Aerion’s spear pierced through the neck of his opponent’s horse, right above the armour protecting its breastbone. A gush of red blood spurted out. Aerea’s lips parted with a gasp, and she brought her hand to her mouth in shock.

The animal panicked and rushed into the barrier, whinnying. The knight tried to leap free, but his foot was stuck in the stirrup, and his leg was crushed under the animal’s weight. The knight’s screams of pain were drowned by the crowd shouting. Baelor pressed his lips, lowering his head. He was not shocked something like this happened. Aerion turned his horse around and stopped, lifting the visor of his helmet, watching the scene. There was this grin on his face again. He seemed satisfied, or content almost, oblivious to how much people were getting agitated. One man climbed the fence, and threw a rock at the prince, making his visor fall back over his face. People jumped on the field. Ashford Guards rushed to them. The doors under the grandstands opened and members of the king’s guard came to help control the crowd. Aerea stared as a man, carrying a long hatchet, walked to the wounded beast, to put it out of its misery. She shut her eyes, turning her head away, not wishing to see the man slash the horse’s throat. Rain started pouring. Baelor had his niece led back to her chamber and asked her to stay indoors until things had calmed down. There would be no more jousting for today.

It took a little under an hour for the sky to clear up, and until the sun was low in the west for the chaos to stop. At some point, Aerion barged in, furious. After the jousting incident, their uncle had counselled for his charger to be given to Ser Humpfrey, spitting he should have been crushed whole under his horse instead. Aerea remained still in the room, not saying anything that could rile him up even more, or move his attention and anger onto her. She didn’t speak at all until he stomped out of the room, and she stopped holding her breath. She hadn’t even realized she was doing that, until he had left. There was one, brief but painful contraction that occurred during that time, and she put so much tension in her jaw during that one minute, trying to control her facial expressions, that it led to worse pain than the contraction itself. She avoided coming across him in the castle as she headed to the courtyard, looking for Valarr. When she found him, she offered that they go for a walk in the merchant’s row, and she had heard of a puppet show, put on by a small band which hailed from Dorne.  She also wanted to walk amongst the smallfolk, distract herself from how boring it was, to just wait in her chamber. She couldn’t paint, she had no brush, nor did she have any canvas, and she couldn’t play any instruments, having left hers at home, and it became clear that besides horns and trumpets, they didn’t have much else here.

Valarr was pleased to get a moment together, and two Ashford guards accompanied them to ensure their safety. They were most definitely the closest cousins of the bunch. Their other cousins, Rhaegel’s twins, Aelor and Aelora, were much younger. They conversed on the way. Valarr and his wife, Kira of Tyrosh, had been trying for children since getting married, and were unfortunate to have had a few stillborn sons, as did Aerea and Aerion’s first, apart from the dragon-like scales. Theirs had normal skin and were unmarked.

“Aerion is furious about his horse.” She looked down at her fingers.

“Were your father there, he would not have done such a thing. Giving Ser Hardyng his mount was the least thing he could do. And he did not even do it out of the goodness of his heart. My father suggested it.”

“Yes.” She spoke quietly, finding herself unable to try and defend Aerion’s actions. She knew deep down what happened was no accident, though she didn’t want to see it. She felt foolish, refusing to accept what she knew about Aerion. The rumours of his cruelty, she had heard them all. Valarr noticed her discomfort, she had gone silent.

“This is not your fault. Tell me, how does Aerion treats you? If he has ever harmed you, I could go to my father right away. You could be free of him.” He held her shoulders, in a gentle manner, as though she was made of glass.

She smiled and shook her head, looking up at him, “He has never harmed me, cousin. Do not concern yourself. He’s difficult, but I am his sister-wife; I have a duty to him.

“So does he.” They resumed their walk. “How far along are you now, sweet cousin?”

He used the same adjective her brother Daeron did when addressing her. Unlike Aerion, she was beloved of her family, and all of them made it loud and clear through their words.

“Maester Corso said that I should have the child by the next moon. It feels different from the first. I am hopeful.” He could tell she was nervous, from the look on her face.

People gave them sidelong glances as they walked past.

A woman, dressed in dark rags, and with her hood covering her eyes, stopped them. The guards came to a sudden halt, ready to draw their swords. By the way she looked, she was sure to be a fortune teller or a witch. Even without seeing her face, the princess felt she stared at her and lifted her hand in her face.

“The day the stag comes for the dragons, the babes will take flight. You will remain… trapped on the cliff, until your breath stops being fire, and your body will burn in the cold, lit up by your own blood.”

“What?” Aerea felt a chill go down her spine. Her voice wasn’t above a whisper.

Her eyes dropped to the ground, frowning. What the woman had said to her was beyond upsetting. What did she mean by that? Even though she would have wanted to ask, she knew someone like this would never not speak in riddles, and in any case, the guards drew her away with threats. The woman had seemed to speak in some kind of trance, freezing in place the moment her gaze fell upon the princess. The day the stag comes for the dragons? My body burning in the cold? It didn’t make sense. Aerea had no idea what she meant, at all. It was too cryptic for the princess. Her body, burning in the cold, which fire was lit up by her own blood. Then a thought crossed her mind, maybe Daeron, who was plagued by dreams since he was young, maybe he could light up her lantern. She wondered what kind of dreams he might have had about her.

She watched the hooded woman walk down the unpaved trail going through the merchants’ stalls.

“Who would dare tell a pregnant princess about her supposed death? We can have her punished for scaring you.”

“No. No need for that.” Valarr put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze, and what was meant as a comforting gesture, made her body stiffen. As she looked at her cousin, she wondered why she expected to see Aerion glaring at her. He noticed the troubled look on her face. The voice she deep down dreaded to hear rose behind the guards. Each word felt like a blade cutting through their skin.

“Cousin. I’ll take back my sister-wife.” He grasped her wrist, and held her strongly, keeping her from moving her arm away, and looked down on Valarr. It’s almost as if his appearance had made the sky took on the darker colours of the evening. “You can go back to your father, now.”

Aerea gave him a faint smile, and he nodded, pressing his lips before turning away. Three men-at-arms that had come along with Aerion, remained with the twins. The young prince gave a glance to his cousin, reluctant to leave her with the one people called The Monstruous behind Maekar’s back, more than they did The Bright Prince. They were already heading in the opposite direction. Aerea noted that her brother-husband looked just as aggravated as earlier this afternoon, even more so from having to look for her, and finding her with their cousin.

“Do not ever make a fool of me again.”

“I’m sorry, Aerion. I only wanted to go for a walk, and to see the puppet show later. I heard they have a large dragon-puppet.” Besides having left the castle with her cousin, she didn’t understand what made him so angry.

He smirked and gave her a scornful laugh. “Let us go see the puppet show then. If I feel provoked, it will be your own fault.”

He held her so strongly, she could feel the blood flow to her hand getting cut off.

They heard fire as they approached the small crowd gathered at the entrance. Upon seeing the prince and the guards, people stepped out of the way in fear. The pair stopped in the middle of the tent. Everyone stood as far away as possible. A girl in a costume, with puffed up blue sleeves and a pseudo mail coif, was kneeling behind a polished shield as a large, black puppet-dragon spat fire at her. Aerea recognized she was putting on a show about the tale of Serwyn and the mirror shield, and her blood ran cold at the thought of the story’s ending; the dragon is slayed. She knew what would happen, and she breathed rapidly, pulling her eyebrows closer. She knew that Aerion would spin this out of proportion.

The dornish girl had not yet noticed the royals’ presence. Aerion tilted his head, his eyes riveted on the fake dragon. The girl sneaked upon the dragon and stabbed its neck with her prop sword. Red sawdust spurted out like blood. Turning around to face the public, she first laid eyes upon the princess, but at the sight of Aerion, she froze, her face dropped and her eyes widened. He was standing straight, menacing, hands joined at his waist, glaring at her. After but a second of a tensed silence, where none of the Dornish puppeteers dared to move, he ordered for the guards to smash the puppets to bits and reduce them to ashes, and stomped in her direction, stepping on the stage beside her. People shouted and ran outside. Aerea tried to appeal to him, but he coldly silenced her, his word again like a blade, this time cutting her throat, and she plunged herself into utter muteness. One of their men picked up a puppet, while another held up a torch to set it on fire. They then knocked over the chests containing the other puppets, which were trampled on and burnt. The dragon had been torn into pieces, scattered all over. The princess stepped back, sticking to the tent fabric, watching the scene in horror.

Dunk came running, shouldering through the wall of watchers that had gathered outside, having been alerted by the boy. He stopped, not believing what he was seeing. Aerion had twisted Tanselle’s arm, and held one of her fingers firmly. They heard a crack, and she screamed. The big hedge knight rushed to them, punching Aerion in the jaw and grabbing him by the collar of his velvet doublet, throwing him to the ground. Guards attempted to hold him back. He struggled against them like a beast, kicking Aerion’s jaw as the prince reached for the dagger at his belt, but now three knights were onto him, keeping him from attacking the grandson of the king again. Aerion slowly got back on his feet, leaning over to the side and spitting out the blood that had filled his mouth, moving his tongue around his teeth and lips in the manner of a reptile. Aerea found it all appalling and had trouble breathing calmly.

Aerion looked at Dunk. “Why did you throw away your life for this whore? She’s scarcely worth it. A traitor. The dragon ought never lose.” He passed his tongue on his teeth, pointing to his mouth. “You’ve loosened one of my teeth. So, we’ll start by breaking out all of yours.”

He sat down, waiting. The knights pushed Dunk down as he struggled and groaned, pulling down on his jaw and forcing him to bite onto the edge of the stage. Tanselle was curled up, holding her maimed hand, while on the other side, the princess closed her eyes and turned her head away, pinching her lips, and prepared to cover her ears, but suddenly, she heard a little boy’s voice shout, telling them not to touch him. She looked up, feeling like she had recognized this voice, and terror gave way for a moment to surprise. She glanced over at Aerion, “Ah…” he stood up, his mouth opened, his lips stained with blood still, staring at the child.

Their little brother, Aegon.

“You stupid boy!” Dunk yelled. “Hold your tongue or they’ll hurt you.”

“No, they won’t.” Two men behind him broke through the wall of gatherers. The Fossoway cousins. “If they do, they’ll answer to my father. Let go off him. Wate, Yorkel, do as I say.”

“Egg…” Aerea mumbled under her breath. The boy peeked over at her, when Aerion’s voice rose.

“You impudent little rat. What’s happened to your hair?”

“I cut it off, brother. I didn’t want to look like you.”

It appeared to be a complete shock to the hedge knight, that little Egg was actually Prince Aegon, son of Maekar, grandson of King Daeron The Good, and it was. Dunk had not figured out that the boy had been a Targaryen this entire time they had been together. One of Maekar’s missing sons.

A prince of the blood.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (SOON)

Published (02/16/2026)

[justinewt]

Princess Aerea Targaryen - A Knight of the Seven Kingdom OC

[GAME OF THRONES MASTERLIST]

words count: 1.4k

Warnings: The images I found on Pinterest were AI modified and use the face of Hunter Schafer, on top of Rhaenyra's sometimes.

Princess Aerea Targaryen bio

FACECLAIM: Hunter Schafer (The pics I found on Pinterest are all AI modified obviously)

ALIASES: The Prodigy (because of her artistic talents); People pitied her for her union with Aerion and after the tragic year of 207 AC, some called her The Hapless Princess, and the nickname remained after the events of the Ashford Tourney in 209 AC, especially as she lived through the fall of her entire family.

TITLES: Princess; Lady

RACE: Valyrian

CULTURE: Crownlands

DATE OF BIRTH: circa 192 AC

DATE OF DEATH: 282 AC (aged 90) // exactly 50 years after Aerion, and the year Robert Baratheon overthrew House Targaryen

REIGN ORDER: technically 11th in line, but she always expressed how she didn’t want the crown in any case, so she was passed.

PARENTS: Maekar I Targaryen and Lady Dyanna Dayne

SIBLINGS: Daeron The Drunken (b.190-d.226, from the pox, aged 36); Aerion Brightflame (older twin brother, b.192-d.232, aged 40); Aemon Targaryen (b.198-300, old age, at 102yo); Daella Targaryen (b.199), Aegon V Targaryen “The Unlikely” (b.201-d.259, aged 58); Rhae Targaryen (b.207)

GRANDPARENTS: Daeron II Targaryen “The Good” (b.153-d.209, Great Spring Sickness, aged 56), and Princess Myriah Martell (b.154-d.185, aged 31)

UNCLES: Baelor “Breakspear” Targaryen (b.170-d.209, aged 39); Aerys I Targaryen (b.172-d.221, aged 49); Rhaegel Targaryen (b.173-d.215, aged 42); Maekar I Targaryen (b.175-d.233, aged 58)

COUSINS: Through Aerys, none. Through Baelor and Lady Jena Dondarrion, Valarr Targaryen (b.189-d.209, Great Spring Sickness, aged 20), and Matarys Targaryen (b.192-d.209, Great spring sickness, aged 17). Through Rhaegel Targaryen, and Lady Alys Arryn, Aelor and Aelora Targaryen, twins (b.200), Aelor died in an accident involving his sister, in 211 AC, at the age of 11, while she died of suicide in 217 AC after being named heir to Aerys I Targaryen, and Daenora Targaryen (b.212).

RELATION TO DAENERYS: Great-aunt

CHILDREN: 1 stillborn, Maegor Targaryen (207 AC), and a second son, Baelor Targaryen (b.209-d. ??)

BACKSTORY: Aerea Targaryen was born in 192 AC, a dozen minutes after Aerion, and is therefore the thirdborn child, and eldest daughter of Maekar Targaryen, and Lady Dyanna Dayne. It was sometime after their birth that Prince Maekar had been given the Targaryen summer residence as his own seat.

She was a soft, quiet girl, who quickly showed her talent in painting and the easiness with which she learned to play instruments. She would offer portraits to her brothers and other family members as gifts for their namedays. These talents earned her to be called The Prodigy. She was also able to draw and paint from memory, or with very little support.

The two children had been betrothed when they were young and married on their 14th nameday. It seemed Aerion had always had somewhat of a strong obsession with his sister. People, mostly their own siblings, spoke amongst themselves of how the young prince believed himself to be “a dragon in human form” and theorized that because he believed such a delusion about himself, he projected said delusion onto his twin sister. To him, it was like she was a mere extension of himself, and not her own person. She was just a female version of him. He had once directly told his sister that because they were born together, they shared more than with any other of their siblings, and because they were born male and female, she was meant to be his, and no one else’s. The Princess had later recalled those words, a few years after Aerion had been banished to the Free Cities by their father, hoping a few years there would do him some good. He had spoken those words when they were 12, or 13, and she added that growing up he would repeatedly say she was “his sister” and had trouble accepting her proximity with other male family members, and according to her, often made her feel guilt for expressing her love for her brothers, or her uncle Baelor, whom she adored, but nothing he could do or say could change how she loved others.

She was especially fond of her eldest brother Daeron and was saddened to see him in such pain because of his dragon dreams, so much so that he became known as The Drunken. He would often call her his “sweet sister” and never spoke of how he wished he could have married her instead of Aerion, because even if he had the chance, he believed she deserved better. He would say he wished he had dreams of her more often, as they would be the sweetest dream he could ever have.

Maester Corso, who served at Summerhall, cared for all the family but especially the girl, as she had some health issues after marrying Aerion. She showed to be more anxious than she used to. She fell pregnant after their marriage and gradually lost her motivation and energy to indulge in her hobbies, which she formerly could not go a single day without. This worried her family a great deal, but the Maester did not believe it was of any significance. As she reached the age of 15, it had become clear something was wrong with her pregnancy, as she had not felt the baby in a rather long time. She gave birth to a stillborn son, with those dragon-like scales, something that had occurred a few times in Targaryens births of stillborn offsprings. This was most likely caused by the generational use of blood magic, but seemed to happen randomly, and scarcely. Only a few cases had been observed and recorded. During the birth, the wet nurses saw how unaffected by her cries and screams the young Prince Aerion was. “He stood there and watched her, crying for their mother”, they said. Aerea went through a rough year, as just a couple months prior to the birth, her own mother died following childbed fever from giving birth to her youngest child, princess Rhae. She couldn’t sleep, stopped eating, and spent her days in her chambers, sitting by the window, barely moving. The princess, many years later, recalled Aerion always making disparaging comments on her condition.

One’s body could only hold on for so long without proper eating habits, and one day, as she made her way to the dining room, to join her family, she collapsed and fell down a flight of stairs. She was carried back to her room by a guard and the Maester came to take a look at her. Nothing was broken and her face had nothing but a scratch, but her body would be bruised and sore. She was given a light dose of milk of the poppy to lessen the pain she was in from the fall. Afterwards, Aerion never really cared for his wife himself, rather ordering the servants about to open and close the windows, to help her eat the nutritious and honeyed broths cooked for her, bathe her in the warm baths they infused with calming herbs, and give her those blood-warming tonics the Maester concocted. He just shared a bed with Aerea when night fell and sometimes thought of giving her the tonic and sleep draught she needed to take to have a restful night. That was about as far as his consideration went.

She got better by the time of her 16th nameday, and though she still needed help sleeping and always mentioned feeling cold, as she had lost a lot of weight, she kept on taking tonics, but she was up and about again, and there was no other stairs incident. Servants noticed how Aerion’s behaviour, especially with his sister-wife, was when their father was around, compared to when he wasn’t. He was composed and calm, acted normally and quite caring, when they had seen he was more than dismissive of her needs in private. They never saw him be physical with her, unlike how he could be with others, but none of them thought of him as a good husband, and the maids closest to the Princess saw how the latter lived for the moments when their father was there to feel loved by Aerion. It was always strange how throughout their marriage, Aerea would call her brother by his name, and he would refer to her, almost exclusively as “sister-wife”, as if her name had been erased from the records, and she was only that, his sister-wife.

During the year 208 AC, she fell pregnant again and was reportedly praying to the Mother every day for a healthy baby boy. She wanted to please Aerion more than anything else. She felt confident that this time would be different. She assured Aerion that it would be different. This time, their little dragon would live.

[justinewt]

The Ashford's Tourney - GOT FANFICTION Part One

[GAME OF THRONES MASTERLIST]

Next Chapter

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: A knight of the Seven Kingdoms season 1 (episode 2 "Hard salt beef"), emotional abuse, the POV switches from Dunk (a couple times in small paragraphs/dialogues) to my oc the rest of the time

The trumpets rung out. Dunk and Egg stopped walking and turned to look at the two men above the gate, dressed in orange surcoats – the colours of the Lord of Ashford. They were announcing someone's arrival. Dunk grabbed a man’s arm, asking who was coming, “Can’t you see the banners, you giant cunt?”, and so he looked.

On the opposite bridge, horses broke through the edge of the forest. Two men with white armours and pure white cloaks falling down their backs – members of the kingsguards, Dunk recognized – rode at the front holding up the dark banners of house Targaryen, with the red, three-headed dragon, spitting out scarlet flames and deploying their wings in the wind with pride. As they crossed the bridge, they disappeared behind the trees again. Dunk watched the royal convoy, thoughtful. Many a beautiful horse followed, as well as a two-wheeled carriage, and a dark coach. He didn’t know who exactly sat in the carriage and rode the horses of the convoy, but it gave him an idea. He would go find them. Maybe they could help him get into the lists and participate in the tourney.

Inside the coach, the only source of light came from Princess Aerea Targaryen looking out the window, pushing the curtain with the tips of her slender fingers, her other hand resting on top of her rounded belly. The blue colour of the sky was nowhere to be seen, covered by clusters of white and greyish clouds projecting a dull light onto half of her fine face. Unlike her twin brother Aerion, she had softly curved eyebrows, and a smaller face, but like him she possessed deep violet eyes, sharp cheekbone and jawline, a straight nose, and pale skin without any blemish. They were the second and third born of their father, Prince Maekar. Her amethyst pearls brushed over the crowd gathered along the beaten path, acclaiming. She saw this giant of a man standing there. He wasn’t moving, but watching carefully, and she thought to herself how odd he seemed, and wondered whether he was half-man half-giant, and the thought made her chuckle as she let go of the curtain. He was dressed in rags, like the others, but stuck out like a sore thumb with his height. Her maid, on the opposite bench asked her if everything was all right, and everything was, so she replied by the positive. The wet nurse that came with them began rambling under her breath.

The girl was heavily pregnant, and the travel to Ashford Meadow had been long and tiring, for her especially. She should have remained at their home of Summerhall, in the Stormlands, but her brother-husband, Aerion, had demanded she come to attend the tournament. She didn’t want to fight with him, so she told her father, the Prince Maekar, a stern and harsh man with everyone but her and her sisters, that she wanted to come, to support her cousin Valarr, and her brothers’ participations in the joust. Aerion was taking part in it as well. Their brother Daeron was yet to join them, he and the little Aegon were coming on their own. Their younger brother, Aemon, had not too long ago been sent off to the Citadel to study to become a Maester, on their grandfather, King Daeron The good’s request, which had made their father quite displeased to say the least, so only remained their two younger sisters, Rhae and Daella, at Summerhall, cared for and watched over by the servants left behind. Her father and uncle, Baelor, Valarr’s father and heir to the Iron throne, rode in the convoy, along with Aerion.

Pushing the curtain again as they entered the Ashford castle’s court, she squinted her eyes, believing to recognize the giant’s silhouette following them. What did he want with them? She had no answer to her question. She could hear a man’s voice announcing her uncle and father outside, though she was unable to hear the words clearly from within the carriage. Once they came to a halt, the princess’ maid leaned forward to open the door while outside a manservant placed a step. Both held out their hands to help her get off. As she put her foot down, holding up her red velvet dress, she heard Aerion’s voice on the other side and as she approached her cousin, Valarr. She looked around the back of the carriage and saw that giant man again. He was the one Aerion was speaking to.

“How was the journey, cousin? Not too tiring I hope.”

She smiled. “Oh, well, in my condition I’d have been tired even if I were to rest all day at Summerhall. Have you heard from Daeron and Aegon?”

“No, I haven’t. You should ask your father, if someone has heard from them, they would surely report to him.”

“Yes, you’re right.” She took in a deep breath. Some fresh air felt especially nice. Her head turned, observing Aerion. He had handed his mount’s reign to a stableboy. How tall could that stranger be to make everyone around him resemble dwarves? She couldn't hear their words, but when Aerion turned away from him, she looked back at her cousin, with a smile, hearing his steps approaching, the sound of the soles of his leather boots sticking to the damp soil, and the neighing of the horses in the background. Her fingers stopped twirling the fabric of her gown, clenching her fist over the bit she held, her whole body tensing up when his hand found her shoulder. It would have been nice, if it weren’t for how strong and sudden his grip was on her.

"Sister-wife. Cousin." He glanced at her belly, and his other hand went from the pommel of his sword, and went to her, half resting over her own hand. These weren't the gestures of a loving husband. They were those of a man asserting control, and ownership in front of everyone else, but the princess would rather lie to herself, ignoring every time the signals her body would send her, dismissing them as mere nervousness and exhaustion. And she kept on smiling. She liked feeling him hold her though. He was a difficult man to deal with, and understand even, but she loved him a great deal, nonetheless. “I’ll take back my wife. Come on.” He then spoke, holding her shoulders and pushing her in the opposite direction to Valarr. As they walked away, going inside the castle, where the Lord of Ashford and his family were hosting them, he kept a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed, to keep right by his side. She tried to ignore the pressure of his hand, and rather to enjoy the feeling of his arm on her.

"How are you?" She asked, as he didn’t enquire to know how her journey had been, as Valarr had done

"Good."

"Who was that giant man talking to you?"

He gave her a sidelong glance, through his cold eyes, he pouted his lips and shook his head in contempt, "An idiot claiming to be a knight."

"A knight? His clothes were dull and worn. I have never seen a knight dress like a peasant. I noticed him in the crowd, when we entered Ashford—"

"Are you tired?"

She was taken aback, his question having no correlation to her statement, "Quite so, yes..."

“So why did you not hurry to rest yourself, instead of talking my ears off?"

"If you wanted me not to speak to you and rest, you should have let me stay home."

He stopped in his tracks and turned to her, grabbing her by the back of her neck and forcing her to lean forward, approaching his head as well, "Are you telling me what to do? Are you questioning me, sister-wife?" Third time he addressed her in less than a few minutes, third time he didn’t speak her name. He had almost never called her by her name ever since they had gotten married. “Father asked, if you wanted to come, you said yes. If you’re now unhappy with your decision, this is your own fault.”

She grunted and frowned from the strain the strength he put on her neck caused her, and looked down, whimpering, "Aerion— You’re hurting me, please. I'm sorry."

He suddenly let go, looked her up and down and resumed his walk, shaking his head as he had done a moment before. He didn’t care in the slightest that people were looking. The guards that had peeked over their shoulders had been quick to turn their heads, and the servants acted as though they had seen none of it. She gathered herself, cleared her throat, tossing her silver hair back over her shoulders and walked after him. He didn't even care to check if she did follow him after the altercation – he knew she was. She had heard some people whispering in their home, nicknaming her “Aerion’s puppy” amongst themselves, while using her more commonly known alias, Aerea The Prodigy, for her talent as a painter, having done many of her family members’ portraits, even one of her grandfather, the king, which the latter loved so much he had replaced his royal portrait with it, and her musical talents, capable of playing almost any instrument placed into her hands. There had been neither an instrument nor a paintbrush in between her fingers for many months though.

Why she hurried her step to catch up with Aerion, and wrapped herself around his arm, she didn’t know, but she did so anyway. He kept his head still, looking straight ahead of him, hand on the pommel of his sword, “Do not run. I won’t take kindly to you pushing out another dead dragon.” He spat. “Or if so happens that I must choose between saving you, or my son, be assured that I will choose my son.”

She frowned, “Why must you be so mean? I feel him. Everything will be fine this time. You will not have to choose at all, and our little dragon will be born very much alive, breathing fire.” She stopped in her tracks, pulling his arm. The soles of his boots rubbed on the floor as he pivoted. He glared at her. “I feel him kicking.” She took his hand and placed it upon her belly. Nothing happened for the a few seconds, and Aerion stared at her, and began complaining when he felt it – that little kick. He wasn’t moved, or at least didn’t look so, his face remaining rather impassible, but his eyes flickered. Keeping his hand on her, she took a step forward, their faces a mere inch, “See? Like I said, he’s very much alive, our little dragon.”

She wasn’t even disturbed by the coldness of his stare anymore, and sketched a content smile, stealing a kiss from him before a maid came to her and asking if she wanted to be shown to her room, to rest.

Night had fallen. The crowd gathered around the jousting field, pressing against the barriers, waving small flags in the air. Dunk towered them all, with Egg sitting high on his broad shoulders. He saw the Targaryens taking their seats, on the few great chairs at the front of the platform above the gate, Lord Ashfrod and Baelor greeting the people. He recognized the prince he had encountered in the Ashford stables, holding the hand of a silver-headed girl. He guessed it was the face of the woman he caught a glimpse of in the carriage, and in the courtyard. She had quite the pregnant belly for such a thin body, either she was quite young to be carrying a child, or she was just built quite petite. It reminded him of how puny Egg looked for his age, as he had told him. He wondered if the prince was the father, not that it would unusual for Targaryens to marry close family.

“Up there, that’s the prince who took me for a stableboy, and I saw that woman in the carriage.”

“That’s prince Aerion, and princess Aerea.” Egg’s voice filled with enthusiasm as he spoke of the princess’ name. “They’re twins. Maekar’s children.”

“They’re twins?” He rose his eyebrows, and his eyes got rounder.

“Yes. And yes, the baby is his. They’re married.”

“They’re— I didn’t ask about that.”

“In your head, you did.”

“And since when can you read minds, boy?” He hid how queer he found the news and watched as a knight rode before them. "How- how do you even know all that?"

"I told you, I'm from King's landing. I just... kept up with the royal family." Dunk was unaware that Maekar's family mostly lived in their home of Summerhall, and Egg avoided to say that bit outloud.

The crowd cheered. The knight that came forth was of House Tully, as showed the silver trout leaping on his mud red cape.

“For the new gods and old!” He had pulled out a trout and brandished it up to his face, and bit off the fish’s head.

While people cheered, Aerea made a disgusted face.

“Was it alive or dead?” Her question got no answer, but Aerion had a frown on his face as well. The 5 champions and their opponents jousting that night took position on the south and north end of the lanes, getting ready for the 1st tilt. Amongst them was Valarr. A smile dawned on her face. Aerea lifted her chin and squinted her eyes to see him better in the distance. He was her favourite in the tournament, but she wouldn’t say that out loud in Aerion’s presence. He would take umbrage at that, and she didn’t mean to offend him.

As tension built up, a man in the crowd shouted, “Lord Ashford fucks his sheep!” and everyone busted in a heartful laughter.

Aerea pinched her lips, and Aerion pressed his, head tilted forward, but not out of amusement she’d wager. He had let go of her hand and rubbed his against each other, leaning on his knees. As the trumpet rung, as they did upon their arrival earlier in the afternoon, the knights kicked their heels into the flanks of their horses and rode off at a gallop. By reflex, she put her hand on Aerion’s forearm, holding in a gasp at the loud sound of spears crashing against the shields. The crowd shouted. The knights were handed new spears by their squires and went back for the second tilt. This time, Valarr unhorsed his opponent, a knight of House Hightower. Aerea brought her hands together to clap but they closed upon each other at the shock of the knight’s horse breaking through the barrier and rolling over.

He had fallen in the middle of someone’s else lane. Arriving towards him at full speed, the knight attempted to hold back his horse but got hit by his own opponent’s lance and lost control, falling in turn. The Hightower rolled out of the way. The other knight managed to catch his horse and climbed back on it and went back for the third round. This was quite the entertainment, but she was glad when it was over. She found it stressful. She made it a point to go congratulate her cousin on his swift win afterwards. Her father, in a severe sweetness that was so peculiar to him, put a hand on his daughter's shoulder and urged her to go get a good night of sleep. She smiled, genuinely and nodded. Her uncle then added that she could enjoy the festivities better tomorrow, well rested, giving his niece a tender look. The crown prince did not speak such concern for Aerion. Though their father did wish a good night to his son as well.

He was annoyed, she could feel it in the way he pulled her arm, but she didn’t know if it was because he had to witness his cousin win his joust, and be showered with praises. She never succeeded in reading his emotions. He could go from fine and rather well-behaved, especially in presence of their father, to menacing, or even aggressive. He had never hit her, and she had no idea if he had ever wanted to. In any case, she guessed her being a princess made it impossible for him to lay a hand on her, more than he could, as he did today. She knew of the whispers going around about her brother-husband, and of his violent tendencies, but had never witnessed much of it. There was this one time, where their little brother Egg said his cat had died because of Aerion, that he had thrown it down a well, but no one believed it, and Aerion strongly denied this. She always felt torn between them, not believing her baby brother could make up something like this, but couldn’t fathom that her brother-husband would commit such an act. She did notice how the boy stopped coming to her as much as he used to. There was also a time, when he was younger, she noticed he would look scared around Aerion, and when she would ask him if he was okay, he would give her a vague answer and moved onto another subject, so she stopped asking. She then only really interacted with Aerion, and servants.

Around a couple years later, their mother died from childbed fever following their youngest sister’s birth, Rhae. Aerea would never forget that day of 207 AC. Her father grew more bitter and stern after that, and she was so struck with grief that she isolated in hers and Aerion’s chambers, spending her days crying by the tall windows, no longer having any appetite or motivation for anything. The worst in all this was that the girl was pregnant at the time, and she soon felt the warm feeling of blood rolling down her legs, and pain. Her entire being was in pain, from her mind to her heart, to her body. There wasn’t a single inch of her that wasn’t aching. The boy was stillborn, with parts of her skin covered in dragon-like scales. Maester Corso, who served at Summerhall, said only a few cases such as this had been recorded since the beginning of the Targaryen reign. Aerion was more interested in the boy’s skin condition than his sister-wife and would later blame her for giving birth to a “dead dragon” as he then referred to the child. She saw him pull a scale from his skin, but was too exhausted to protest, and the child was soon taken care of and prepared for the funeral rites.

Within a couple months, Lady Dyanna Dayne and the baby dragon – who Aerion had chosen to name Maegor – had died and been burned on the pyres.

It had been a dark year for Maekar’s branch of the family.

[To be continued…]  

Next Chapter

Published (02/09/2026)

[justinewt]

Ladies Of The Seven Kingdoms - GAME OF THRONES UNIVERSE FANFICTIONS (Masterlist)

This Masterlist will list the fanfictions (usually short fanfics) that I write within the GOT universe. The title of the masterlist also references the fact that all my characters will be female.

A knight of the Seven Kingdoms (Season 1) - 7.3k words

Meet Princess Aerea Targaryen <3

Chapter 1 - The Ashford Tourney

Chapter 2 - The Puppeteer and The Dragon

Chapter 3 - Trial of Seven (19/02/26)

Chapter 4 - TBA

...

!! BEWARE SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY !!

[justinewt]

Sanctum - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Fourty-Five

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (SOON)

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: The 100 season 6 spoilers (covering episode 3 "Children of Gabriel"); half of the chapter is filler as Aurora is unconscious during that part but I felt it was still relevant to write it all, occasions to see Aurora's interactions with Jordan/Clarke/Murphy without Bellamy around

The children stared at them in silence, while a large group of people walked in their direction. Some dressed in dark robes held tall sticks. Bellamy lifted his head, “Remember, we’re in their home. Everyone keep calm.”

“Weapons down.” Clarke added quietly.

“Abby, stay with Murphy. Jordan, stay with her.” The young man gave him a nod and Bellamy stood up, going to stand in front of Clarke. A woman called for the child named Rose to get away from them, while guards rushed to them to protect what they called the ‘hope’. Clarke put her hands up.

“We’re from earth. We come in peace.”

The people in black robes and holding sticks turned out to be the guards. They came in between Clarke and the group, and the children. A woman with colored strands of hair approached the handcuffed one, calling her Kaylee, asking about her family.

“They killed them.” She stated.

“That’s… not good.” Jordan said.

All of a sudden, they heard loud gasping and turned on their heels. The black veins had progressed and were now covering half of their necks. Bellamy panicked, running to his daughter, not knowing what to do.

“Help us, please. Our friends are dying.” Clarke pleaded. “He’s not breathing. Is Ari breathing? No?”

Abby began to do CPR on Murphy, while Bellamy urged to do the same on his daughter after replying to her in the negative. Clarke looked up when a man commanded the people to let him pass. He was followed by two guards, and marched towards them, wearing this floor-length black coat. He motioned for Abby and the others to be removed from Murphy and Aurora. Bellamy squinted his eyes, observing the man. They eventually stepped back to give him space to approach. He rolled up Murphy’s shirt. There were many more black veins than in the beginning.

He looked up at them, “He’s already dead.” He did so too with Aurora, just less high on the chest, of course, but had the same conclusion.

“No.” Bellamy shook his head, staring at him. “No.”

“Fortunately for them, death is not the end.” He turned, called to a man named Cillian, explaining the two had been exposed to the seaweed during the red sun. Cillian didn’t say a word. He crouched in the space between the two, put down a bag he was carrying and pulled out a long, red snake with black stripes. “We call it Kěpà Shé, means hideous snake in Chinese.” Cillian brought the snake close to Murphy’s skin. It had numerous red eyes on either side of its head, and two rows of sharp teeths. Bellamy took a step forward, his eyebrows pulled together, watching attentively.

“Oh my God.” Clarke exclaimed at the sight.

“Trust me, I know, but the venom degrades too quickly to deliver it in any other form.” The snake didn’t bite. Rather it used its tongue. Red and cylinder shaped. It seemed to have little spike all over it. Clarke crouched down to take a closer look. The snake planted the tip of its tongue into Murphy, and as the latter noticed, it was working. The black veins were disappearing.

The man in the coat spoke, “Amazing, isn’t it? Its curative properties were discovered during one of the earliest red suns.” He rose his voice, addressing his people. “Poison made the demon Gabriel believe he could walk on water. The Kěpà Shé bit him, and the toxin from the seaweed had no effect.”

Murphy gasped, taking a deep breath, and coughed. He didn’t open his eyes, still unconscious, but he was breathing. Cillian then turned and repeated the process on the girl. The veins retracted, leaving her skin as it was before the infection, and she breathed. Bellamy went on his knees and took her in his arms. His baby was saved. He couldn’t have been more relieved. Aurora was still unconscious as well and weakly moved around her hand until it was caught by Jordan, the other pinching her father’s shirt in between her fingers.

“Well done, Cillian. Now, lock them up.” His word was law, and the guards obeyed. They were pushed away, and Bellamy had to be pulled off Aurora. He got physical with one of the guards, telling them he was staying with his daughter, and the guard hit him with the thick stick he held.

She could feel her father and Jordan going away, a frown appearing on her face and her fingers scratching the dirt, her chest heaving with each of her breaths.

After the others were locked up, unconscious Murphy and Aurora were brought in the same room, covered with blankets, with both having one rolled up to support their heads. Emori and Bellamy had pulled stools closer to watch over them. The two were getting worried, wondering why they were still not waking up. Clarke tried reassuring them that they would. Bellamy stroked her hair and placed a kiss on her forehead, watching her like the apple of his eye, which she was.

“I can’t believe I did this to me.”

“Emori, you didn’t. I did.” Bellamy lifted his head, speaking with a quiet tone.

“Who cares? We need to get out of this place.” Octavia chimed in.

Bellamy pinched his lips in annoyance and stood up, putting his gaze on his sister and repeating his question, “What are you even doing here?”

“I came to save your ass.” She replied, sitting at the counter. “And also, you know, to meet my niece. Could you imagine how surprised I was to hear you had a child?”

He walked around the table and in her direction until Echo came to stand before him to stop him, “Not now. If we’re gonna fight our way out, we need her.”

“Echo, we’re not fighting them.” Clarke rectified. “We need them to teach us how to survive down here.”

She turned around upon hearing footsteps. A guard was leading a pretty young woman in off-white dresses, carrying glasses, followed by a bald man with a tray in his hands.

The man exclaimed, “Welcome friends.” The girl crossed Jordan’s eyes, a bright smile on her face. He held her gaze for a moment, the tip of his fingers brushing over Aurora’s hand. When he felt it move, his eyes fell back onto her. “If it’s true you survived the red sun, then you need a drink.”

Bellamy returned to the stool by his daughter’s side. Clarke sketched a tight smile as the man stopped in front of her, and she took a glass from the tray, thanking him. The girl came forward and handed a glass to Jordan. He peeked at the drink and gulped it down, “Mmh, that’s amazing. What is it?”

“We call it—”

“Delilah…”

“Relax, mother. I don’t think they’ll steal your recipe. We call it Jo juice, after Josephine Prime. Hallowed be her name.”

The other repeated those four words in chorus. The eyes from the Eligius IV group went left and right, uneasy.

“Uh, can I ask—” Clarke stepped forward. “It’s probably none of our business, but what’s a prime?”

“Sanctum was colonized by a team from Earth made up of 4 families—the Primes. Their blood rules us still.”

“Make way for the Primes.” A man’s voice rose from the entrance, and the same man in the black coat that they had encountered outside entered, alongside a woman dressed in similar dark attire, with a golden necklace. The girl and her mother bowed.

“Which one’s the pilot?” The leader demanded.

“There, that one.” It was the woman in a braid, Kaylee, pointed to Raven. The guards headed for her.

“Stop. Did I say to take her?”

“No, sir. Sorry, sir.” They lowered their heads and stood behind him.

Clarke spoke up again, “Look. If this is about what happened on the mothership, your people stole our transport and then boarded us by force. My people were just defending themselves.”

“Lies. She wasn’t there. We hurt no one.” The woman in the braid rebuted.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Clarke Griffin. What’s yours?”

 “He is Russell Lightbourne, seventh of his line, savior of Sanctum, and you will bow before using his name.”

“I don’t think so.”

“My wife’s a strickler for protocol, but she knows you can’t observe customs that you’re unaware of. You have questions, understandably, and we’ll get to them all, but first, we need your transport ship to be flown into sanctum. You can land in one of the lower fields.”

“Why? What’s out there?” Abby questioned.

“There are worse things in this world than eclipse-induced psychosis. All of them are outside the shield, and the worst of them would love to get their hands on the weapons Kaylee says are on your ship.”

“Why are we asking for permission?” Kaylee was a rather abruptive and direct woman. “My family is on that ship.”

“Which is why you’ll be on the team sent to retrieve them.” Russell said. “What? Now, you’re afraid to leave the shield?”

“I told you, we were late for shelter when we saw that ship. Either we took it, or we suffered the red sun.”

While she spoke, Clarke swiftly went to her mother, seeing there was something she wanted to tell her, and it was that Madi herself was on the transport ship. She rose her voice, upset that she had been woken up, bringing the Primes’ attention to her.

“Never mind. Raven will fly the ship, but we’re going too.”

“Didn’t realize you were giving orders again, Clarke.” Raven snapped back before the latter had even finished.

Russell settled the matter and asked Clarke to choose her most ‘disposable’ people, as he put it. It was time to go. She stepped forward, and he rose his hand, stopping her in her path.

“You don’t strike me as disposable.”

“None of us are. But my child is out there, so I’m going to get her.”

“Please. We have things to discuss. Are you the leader of your people, or not?”

“She is. She can speak for us.” Bellamy’s comment made Raven scoff and shake her head.

“Good. You can escort your team to the steps. The rest of you will remain here, well-cared-for ‘till we can decide what to do with you.” On those words, he left, along with the guards and the rest of his people that had come in. Bellamy stood up, called Raven and Echo’s names, and the latter told Octavia to come along.

“Hey, Miller, you stay here. Keep an eye on things.” He added quietly.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Clarke looked at him and he walked around the tables where Murphy and Aurora were lying down, telling Jordan to stay with her, with a firm tone. The young man didn’t say a word and nodded, sitting down.

Bellamy walked alongside Clarke, “What? You said it yourself. We need these people. For some reason, the leader seems to like you, so let’s try and keep it that way. Hey, Clarke, we’ll bring Madi back. I promise. We’ll both have our daughters with us, safe and sound, okay?”

She nodded, pressing her lips in worry, and as she saw him walk out with her, she stopped him with her arm, “No, you should stay with Ari. She’ll need you when she wakes up.”

“She well surrounded, and we won’t be long.”

“You don’t know that. Bellamy…” She grabbed his arm, softly. “Don’t blame yourself for Murphy. You were under the red sun’s influence.”

“He was trying to save her, and I beat him up, and drowned him. And I’d like to keep an eye on Octavia. I don’t trust her out there.”

They let the doors close behind them.

***

Jordan stood by the window, looking up in awe at the transparent dome shielding all of Sanctum. He jumped on the occasion when Clarke came back in, “Clarke, I need to get out of here.”

“Not gonna happen, Jordan.”

Jackson was patching up Miller’s arm at the counter, “You’ve been locked inside for 26 years. What’s one more day—" when Murphy woke up with a start, yelling and panting, and throwing the blanket off him, jumping off the table and onto the floor when Emori touched him, trying to reassure him. Aurora had woken up with a gasp, leaning on her arms, eyes widened, looking around, confused. She tried calming down her breathing and sat up, touching her stomach and neck, frantic.

“The toxin’s gone. It’s gone. Everyone’s okay. Clarke, tell him.”

She leaned forward, “It’s true, okay? We all made it, thanks to you.”

He frowned, looking down, touching the large wound on his chest, “No, I didn’t. I died, didn’t I? Ari—Is Ari okay?” His eyes swept the room rapidly and stopped on the girl, looking back at him.

“Yes, she’s okay. Look, she’s right there.” Clarke assured, showing her with her hand.

Abby crouched down, “Both of your hearts did stop,”

“I died...” Ari mumbled, in the middle of Abby’s sentence, rubbing her neck nervously, her lips trembled.

“…but the people here revived you.”

“I saw something. I f— I felt something…” The tone of his voice lowered.

Aurora’s efforts at calming down were going out the window. Her eyes were lost in the void, her eyes squinting and her visiong getting blurry from the tears filling them, bringing her knees to her chest, whimpering, repeating she saw something too, and was greatly distressed over it. Both Clarke and Jordan ran to her, but she turned to Clarke, who grabbed her shoulders, and encouraged to look at her, calmling out to her repeatedly, “Hey, hey, hey, Ari, you’re okay. You’re okay. Look at me. You’re okay now. Come here.” She drew her into a hug, letting her cry it out. Jordan stepped back, watching, looking disappointed not to be able to help her himself. It took some time, but eventually, she calmed down, her panting getting slower.

She wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath in, touching her arms, realizing she was only wearing her t-shirt and that her mom’s jacket was gone, “Where’s my dad— where’s my jacket?”

“Here. Still a little wet.” Jordan handed it to her. She thanked him, glancing at him, and kept te jacket on her knees after she sat at the edge of the table.

“Where’s my dad?” She repeated, facing Clarke.

“He went out. He’ll be back soon, don’t worry.” She didn’t know that, and Aurora felt it, but she just nodded, as the latter was called onto by her mother. They talked about Madi not wanting to stay into space, but that’s all she heard. She wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. She was still lost in her thoughts, remembering all that happened while under the red sun’s influence. She remembered her mom’s voice… and all she said to her. All the awful things said with her voice, but which her real mom would have never spoken. And she remembered walking into the pond, and trying to let herself drown, to die, and be with her mom, until she was pulled out. She was pulled out of the water, and therefore saved, by Murphy. She slowly looked up at Murphy, being hugged by Emori on the floor.

Jordan approached again, “Hey, do you want some water?”

“No.” She closed off, almost by reflex, and felt her regret not to tell him to stay when she saw him walk out from the corner of her eyes. She frowned, frustrated with herself. She jumped off the table and walked to the counter, crossing her arms on it, resting her chin on them, her mother’s jacket lying across her thighs. One of her feet kept swinging, hitting the counter. After some time, Murphy came to see next to her, along with Emori, and Jordan came back, accompanied by a brown-haired girl in a light, flowy dress. He was smiling. Aurora stared at the two without moving her head. The girl went behind the counter, apparently, she was working at the tavern they were locked up in. She filled a few small glasses with an alcoholic drink they made there, and Murphy drank a couple, asking that she kept them coming.

“Good thing we harvest tonight.” She spoke. “Gonna need to make more.”

“Hmm, you harvest at night?” Jordan picked up a glass, drank it, and coughed. His voice sounded a bit hoarse afterwards. “Oh, that is so cool.”

“You can try it.” Murphy told Aurora. “Your dad’s not here to advise you not to. It’s not like one glass is gonna get you wasted anyway.”

She took the glass he put in front of her, observed it a little and drank it one go. She cleared her throat, frowning a bit. Murphy patted her back, leaning on his arm. When Jordan’s voice rose again, she glared at him, “I’ve read that it helps preserve the purity of the fruit. Is that why?”

“Need to work on your game, kid. I owe your pops at least that much.” Murphy brought another glass to his lips.

“His game is just fine.” The girl’s comment made Aurora’s skin crawl. She almost jumped out of her seat and stormed outside, but they weren’t allowed to leave, and a guard was making sure they didn’t.

Having noticed Aurora looking upset, Murphy cracked a joke, “Oh, they grow up so fast, don’t they?” He put his arm around the girl’s shoulders, in a comforting manner.

A door opened above the stairs in the middle of the tavern, and Clarke walked down, wearing a pink linen dress.

“Yes, they do.” Abby added.

“What?” Clarke shrugged as some of them at the counter nodded with a knowing smile. “It’s just a dress. Thank you, by the way.”

“My pleasure. Your escort’s outside.” The girl’s eyes shifted to the door.

Aurora saw in her peripheral vision Abby getting up and going to talk to her daughter, but her attention was only peaked once the name of her grandfather was brought up. She turned her head to them.

“Mom, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask. Is he okay?”

“He’s back in cryo, and I’m hoping that there’ll be medicine here in Sanctum that will help him, but we won’t know that unless you get their leader on our side. Hey… Just be yourself. Don’t tell them more than you have to and don’t lie.”

“Hmm, unless they ask about the end of the world.” Murphy chimed in. “In that case, maybe don’t tell them you fired the first shot.”

“Don’t worry, Murphy. Hell’s big enough for both of us.” On those words, she left. Murphy grabbed a bottle, leaning back in his chair, and drank, this frown stuck on his face.

Aurora watched from her chair, as night fell outside, lying on the counter, sighing. So many things were going through her head, everything that had happened to her up to that point. She closed her eyes. If only she could fall asleep, time would pass quicker, maybe when she opened her eyes again, her father would be right there, smiling to her.

“Hey, Ari?”

She recognized Jordan’s voice and hesitated as to how to talk to him, but she reacted as she always did, and pushed him away, “Your ‘girlfriend’ went outside, if that’s what you wanna know.”

“No. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired. Try again in a hundred years.”

She heard him sigh, and then his footsteps getting further away and half opened her eyes, wanting to punch herself. She straightened up, seein others serving themselves plates of food on a table behind her and Murphy, still crashing at the counter as well, and she just let her arms hang and her head fall onto the counter. Rolling her face, she watched Abby approached.

“I’ve done bad things.” Murphy mumbled.

“There is no hell, John.” He lifted his head, not answering. “Hey, listen to me. At the end of our lives, we’re not gonna be judged for the things we did to survive. We’ll be judged for the reasons that we did them.”

“What if the reason was to save my own ass?”

“How is to save your own ass, when you risk your life trying to save someone else?” Ari spoke, quietly, and he looked at her over his shoulder. She was referencing when he went out there, knowing her dad was going around, crazy, looking to kill him specifically, and he still took the time to pull her out of the pond before she drowned, but little did she know how many times he helped her mother, and it wasn’t the choice that would just ‘save his ass’, and it made him think.  

A door opened, interrupting them, and Clarke came down the stairs. She wasn’t wearing her pink dress anymore.

“Back in your murder gear already.” Murphy noted. “That’s a good sign.”

“Clarke, what happened?” Abby enquired.

“Jordan told them everything. Where is he?”

“On the roof with his barmaid-girlfriend.” Aurora said bitterly, shooting up her eyebrows.

Clarke ran up the stairs, followed by the guard watching them. After debating with herself for a while, Aurora hopped off her chair and climbed the stairs two by two. She took a second to admire the big planet with its ring, it was way more noticeable than the last time, almost occupying the entire sky, but the silence on the roof alerted her. Clarke wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and neither was the guard. Who she did see, was Jordan was lying on a couch. She called him and he only mumbled about Delilah, the barmaid, and she sighed through her nose, but her annoyance was soon replaced by her concern as she saw the blood on her forehead and understood why he seemed so disoriented and out of it. She groaned, struggling to get him up, holding him with one arm and supporting herself onto the railing with the other, heading back to the stairs leading down to the tavern. She called for help and Abby came up, helping her walk him downstairs. They sat him down and as the doctors of the team, Abby and Jackson took it upon himself to tend to his head wound. He had been somewhat beaten up, and left on the roof, while whoever attacked him kidnapped Delilah and took off.

Loud rumbling could be heard outside. Aurora went to the window and tried to get her eyes onto whatever was making that noise, but she couldn’t see, until it flew higher in the sky. It was their transport ship. No one had any idea if it had been stolen again, or if their people were on board.

At some point, Clarke returned, and told them the situation, “We know their founders on Eligius III were all nightbloods.”

“And we know hereditarily, it’s incredibly rare.” Abby added.

“Princess Clarke. Perfect.” Murphy said, gulping down an umpteenth drink.

Miller looked at him, “Not perfect it if makes her a target.”

“It does, which is why we can’t tell them about Madi… Unless you already did.” She took a few steps in Jordan’s direction. Aurora, arms crossed, head lowered, stared at the latter through her eyebrows, leaning against the counter. “Think. You told her everything else.”

“I didn’t tell her that. I was just being friendly. I’m—”

“You were being stupid.” Aurora said bluntly.

He glanced at her, and looked back at Clarke, ashamed, “I’m the reason they’re throwing us out.”

She nodded faintly, when the door opened, and Madi came running in, jumping in her arms. Aurora’s face relaxed, she uncrossed her arms, stepping away from the counter and looked behind her. Her father was right there. She sighed, reassured, and saw the relief to see her in his eyes as well. She met him halfway and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. He pressed his lips against his forehead, “I’m here, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too, dad.” She breathed in in his neck, and they stuck like this for a hot minute before she followed him to the counter. He greeted Jordan on the way and went to stand by Murphy, putting his hand on the latter’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, man.” He put his hand on top of his.

The door opened. A couple guards walked in, and behind them were Russell Lightbourne and his wife.

“It’s been a long day, so I’ll keep this short.” He spoke. “Sanctum was created to be a sanctuary for the human race. After seeing you save Delilah, we’ve decided that you deserve that too.”

“You changed your mind? We can stay?” Clarke asked.

“For now, but no more of you. You’ll follow our rules, and respect our traditions, and we will teach you how to survive here.”

“What my wife is trying to say is, welcome to Sanctum.” He smiled.

They all sighed in relief and chuckled. This was great news. Bellamy took his daughter in his arms again and she rested her head on his chest. Russell’s wife approached a woman whose name Aurora ignored but seemed to be apart of their group. She noticed another young woman with short, white hair who she didn’t know.

“You are with child. How far along?”

“6 months, give or take.”

“Through cryosleep, then? That’s remarkable. If you’d like, we can have one of our prenatal physicians examine you in the morning.”

“I’d like. Thank you.”

“You should’ve seen Diyoza and Octavia fighting terrorists.”

Madi’s comment made Clarke look around, confused, “Where’s Octavia?”

Aurora only then noticed that her aunt was missing.

Russell stepped forward, “Charmaine Diyoza? Escort this woman past the shield right now.”

Bellamy let go of his daughter and stepped forward, “Just wait. Whas is this?”

“Seems my reputation precedes me.”

“You could say that.” Russell spat back. “Your face is in our history books next to Hitler and Ben Laden.

“Please, what about the baby?” Abby asked.

“If any of you would care to join her, be my guest.”

Clarke stopped Madi from going with her as she was escorted out by the guards, held by both arms. The Primes left as well, without another word for them.

“One way or another, the devil gets his due.” Murphy said, fatalistically, looking down at the bottom of his glass.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (SOON)

Published (01/23/2026) by Andrea

Taglist: @mirellef2001

[justinewt]

ADDITIONAL MARVEL ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

[MARVEL FANFICTION MASTERLIST]

This post will be about two additional characters I made for my MCU fanfic series.

See Frainn Lokadottir's old bio right HERE

1st part will be about Sigyn "Siggy" Rebecca Barnes, daughter of Frainn Lokadottir and Bucky Barnes,

and 2nd part will be about Skadi,Jotun and goddess of the Aesir of winter, bow hunting and mountain, and loyal second-in-command of Frainn on Jotunheim.

words: 1.5k

FACE CLAIMS: 1st picture is Lilly Aspell, and the 2nd & 3rd is Ava Briglia (aged 10 and 18)

NAME : She was named Sigyn, after her maternal grandmother, and her middle name being that of one of Bucky's older sisters.

She was nicknamed Siggy as a child, but her mother never called her that, ever.

DATE OF BIRTH : Given that she was conceived around April 2024 (by the end of Falcon and the Winter Soldier), she was born around January or February 2025 on Jotunheim.

AGE : : When she comes to Earth for the first time, in October 2027, she is over 2 years & 7-8 months old. During the post credit scene of Thunderbolts, in late 2028, she is a few months away from turning 4, and looks a little younger than the first picture above.

She will be in Avengers Doomsday and Secret wars and will look something in between the first and second pictures (let's pretend she had blue eyes on the 1st one, and darker brown hair on the other two)

GENDER : Female

SPECIES : Jotnar-Asgardian (from her mother), and enhanced human (from her father)

CITIZENSHIP : Norwegian-American

PARENTS: She was born to Frainn Lokadottir, Queen of Jotunheim and Goddess of ice, wind and shadows, and James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, former HYDRA Winter enhanced Soldier, and US Army vet.

RELATIVES:

Thor, God of Thunder (adoptive maternal uncle), Odin Borson, the All-Father (Adoptive maternal Great grandfather, DECEASED), Frigga, Goddess of motherhood (Adoptive Great grandmother, DECEASED)

Laufey (maternal Great grandfather, DECEASED), Loki Laufeyson & Sigyn (Maternal grandparents, DECEASED)

Skadi, Goddess of winter & hunting (Godmother/aunt)

Rebecca Barnes (Paternal aunt, DECEASED).

Sam Wilson (Godfather)

Thunderbolt team (de facto relatives), with Bob being her favorite.

POWERS : Her powers are still unknwon by Thunderbolts, she's too young to exhibit much magic outside of the sorcery tricks taught by her mother, and her surhuman physical strength, but there is a great power dormant within her.

SKADI, Jotun Goddess of Winter, bow hunting, and mountains/wilderness (human form)

FACE CLAIM: model Devon Windsor (I think)

NAME : Skaði

DATE OF BIRTH : circa 11th century (she's around 200 years older than Frainn)

AGE : 1020yo (1940s, when Frainn fled Jotunheim); mid 1200s (2020s) - physically looking like she's still in her early to mid 20s, like Frainn

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION : Slim, slender, athletic, in Jotun form she's around 6"2 (~188 cm) but in human form she's 6" (182 cm), looks about 170lbs in human form (way slimmer than Frainn), pale skin, hazel eyes (human form), straight platinum hair

GENDER : Female

SPECIES : Jotun

PARENTS : She's the daughter of the giant Thjazi

RESIDENCE : mountains of Thrymheim, Jotunheim

LOVE INTEREST : will she even have one? It will sure not be a regular love story if so, very different from Frainn and Bucky's romance

She was once married to Njord, but divorced him, and then married Ullr, but he died.

PERSONNALITY : While Frainn's cold behavior grew warmer around humans, Skadi retained an ice cold and distant demeanor when she went down to Earth. She doesn't look or act warm, welcoming or hospitable, doesn't smile, rather constantly looking like she's either impassible or upset - there is rarely big expressions, or any expression at all, on her face - and she stares at people. She also viewed humans as smaller and weaker than her, Frainn, and their people, and underestimates them a great deal.

She's also extremely loyal, and her dedication to her Queen, Frainn, destabilized people on Earth at first (meaning the Thunderbolts/New Avengers members), especially since the first time she came down there, and Frainn approached, she fell to one knee and lowered her head and said "My Queen", very solemn, and Frainn had to tell her there was no need for all this there. Despite the two having grown/lived together on Jotunheim for over 600 years, and being close friends, Frainn was always a princess and royalty, so above her in station, and she made a point of using honorific titles when addressing her. Frainn asking her to stop wasn't because of embarrassment, the latter doesn't know that feeling, but rather because it made everyone else around them (Thunderbolts team) uncomfortable as it made it look like Frainn was way superior to them, being Queen and all.

WEAPONS : She wields a magical bow made out of ice. It doesn't melt, and if it breaks, the piece that got broken repairs itself, and she generates arrow out of ice with her powers.

POWERS/ABILITIES : Like Frainn, she's not human, so she has superhuman strength, supernatural dense tissue (being 100% Jotun, she has even thicker skin than Frainn, probably twice as thick at least), superhuman durability (she's even more durable than Frainn, again because of her being Jotun), regenerative healing factor, cold blood (while Frainn, in her Jotun form is around 10°C, Skadi's Jotun body is under 0; Jotuns have a natural anti-freeze in their blood), superhuman stamina, superhuman longetivity (she ages slower than Frainn, and is also immune to all diseases and infections humans can catch),

Godly powers : Skadi is the msot skilled hunter and archer in the universe, who can bring down ANY prey with her bow and arrows. She is also a master of skiing, and can glide over the snow and ice with ease. She has a strong connection to the winter and the frost, and can control the weather and the seasons, but unlike Frainn, she doesn't control the ancient winds or possesses her legendary ice magic powers. Her ice related powers are much more limited to small things, such as the arrows she generates. Frainn did teach her sorcery, so she's also a witch who knows all the same tricks, but is less skilled than Frainn in them, and is not a shapeshiter like her. She is also a fierce warrior, who can fight with any weapon and defend herself against any enemy. Part of the text comes from this source: https://www.greekmythology.com/Myths/Norse/Skadi/skadi.html but I also added many sentences myself.

BACKSTORY (1st paragraph is from the same website)

One of the myths including her is that of how she married Njord, the god of the sea and the wind. Skadi came to Asgard to avenge her father’s death, and demanded a husband from the gods as a compensation. The gods agreed, but only if she chose her husband by looking at his feet. Skadi hoped to marry Balder, the most handsome of the gods, but she ended up choosing Njord, who had the fairest feet. Skadi and Njord tried to live together, but they could not agree on where to stay. Skadi preferred the mountains and the snow, while Njord preferred the sea and the breeze. They decided to spend nine nights in each other’s home, but they were both unhappy and miserable. Skadi eventually left Njord and married Ullr, the god of hunting and skiing, who shared her interests and passions.

She came to Asgard before Frainn's banishment. They did see each other in the throne room at the time, but did not interact or talk to each other, until she was banished (rather returned in a secret agreement with Laufey) to Jotunheim, for peace, which lasted until the latter ran off. After she ran off, she remaine high in the mountains with her husband, but then, when Laufey was killed, she came down to lead those who remained faithful to the right heir to Jotunheim's throne, Frainn, and who believed she had been taken from Jotunheim and didn't run away and abandon her people and duties (which she absolutely did). Frainn was never a prisonner. She was royalty, Laufey's heir, and was treated as such, and she fully made up this narrative that she was a victim. Skadi led the fight during the civil war and unrest that ensued Laufey's murder in 2012, and fought against rebels who contested Frainn's right to rule their realm and claimed she had left them. Skadi's husband was killed during the war.

After lasting for about 12 years, Frainn returned and put an end to it within a year and a half, denying abandoning them and executing those who refused to kneel to her, but adding those who did to her ranks. During that year, Frainn's powers grew as she truly used them to their full potential. She also gave birth to her daughter behind a large rock, in the middle of the battle that then ended the decade long civil war. According to ancient texts, Skadi should've been there during Ragnarok, but the bridge had been broken and she remained on Jotunheim, until Frainn came on her own. Frainn said she could not stay, but promised she would return for good one day, knowing she and her daughter would outlive Bucky, and left the elders in command until then, with Skadi overviewing this. Frainn also told her, whenever she wanted, she could take the passageways that remained between Jotunheim and Midgard and come see her, and she did at the end of Thunderbolts.

[spicymochi]

your month, your flower friend!

[justinewt]

August 🌸🌸🌸

[justinewt]

Red Sun Rising - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Fourty-Four

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (Jan 20)

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: The 100 season 6 spoilers (covering the rest of episode 1 "Sanctum", & episode 2 "Red Sun Rising"); Michelle haunting the narrative

They had already walked for what felt like hours through the forest, when they finally reached the shore of this immense lake. Aurora was far from used to walking so much, for so long, and she had this frown stuck on her face as she was getting a little annoyed, but the nature made up for it. As they stepped out of the forest, she looked up and her eyebrows relaxed. She was just in awe at the pretty pastel colors all over the sky, but it wasn’t the only thing to admire – on the left of the lake, beyond the mountains, there was the faint appearance of a literal planet, like a ghost painted over, its ring going around it. Right in front of them, the sun was setting, its rays making them squint and a red circle was slowly coming over it.

Aurora knew for sure they didn’t have that on Earth.

“Looks like we found the water source.” Bellamy felt his daughter poking his arm and then pointing upwards, “whoa, now that’s a view.” He put his arm over her shoulers, admiring their surroundings, “We camp here.”

Clarke brought her hand over her eyes, “Looks like the suns are eclipsing.”

“Why’s the other sun red?” Aurora frowned again because she squinted her eyes, trying to stare at the sun without shielding herself like Clarke. Her father just shrugged, just commenting on her not protecting her eyes. She didn’t get an answer from anyone else, as none of them knew. It picked her curiosity. There was for sure a reason or explanation. She wanted to understand this place more. Maybe Monty could have told her, if only she would listen, but she was quite stubborn and headstrong, and now she somewhat regretted rejecting his little ‘science talks’.

“Murphy—Murphy, wait. We haven’t tested it.” Jackson took a step forward as Murphy dropped his bag, jacket and took off his shirt as he marched towards the water, dismissing the medic’s worries about his wounds having not healed yet. He didn’t care in the slightest. Aurora watched him dunk into the lake. She was watching him and just pinched her lips at the thought that her mom once looked at that man like this, before choosing her dad. She wouldn’t deny she found him attractive but then came the though of him and her mom going at it together, since they were, in fact, a couple for a time and she winced a bit. She didn’t want to imagine that. With Murphy, or her dad. Especially not the latter, God, no. She shook off that thought and glanced at the anxious look on eevryone’s faces as Murphy didn’t stick his head out of the water right after. Clarke even thought something was wrong, btu a second later he came out, shaking the water off his head.

“Come on in. The water’s fine.”

“Oh, who knew cockroaches could swim?” Emori was relieved to see her lover safe and sound.

“What, you want me to teach you?”

“No—John, no—”

“Oh, you’re coming with me.” He joked as he pulled her in the water, making her fall in, fully dressed. Aurora raised her eyebrows and laughed at the scene as they proceeded to play fight in in the water. She turned to her dad, and it was like they used telepathy because he saw her face and just nodded, motioning to the lake. She smiled, took off her jacket – her mother’s jacket – and her shoes and ran before jumping as high as possible and curling up into a ball as she fell in like a bomb, letting out a loud and hearty laugher. Bellamy watched her with a sad tenderness in his eyes, which Clarke noted.

“I miss her too.” She said, almost in a whisper, as if it was something only to be heard by her and him, before glancing at Aurora again. “She looks exactly like you…”

“When I look at her, all I see is Michelle.” A silent tear pearled at the corner of his eye and was stopped in its descent down his cheek as he wiped it off and he turned away from the lake, “All right guys, if you’re not getting in the water let’s get the fire ready for tonight.”

It was as if Michelle transferred her soul and essence in her child, as she died bringing her into this world…

Night had fallen. The air was cool, and Aurora, eyes closed, kept on taking in the deepest breaths known to mankind. She couldn’t get enough of how actual air filling her lungs felt, so invigorating. Everyone was seating around the fire, with Shaw still trying to reach out to Eligius IV, and still unsuccessful in doing so, and Jackson and Miller a couple feet away.

“Miller helped keep Octavia alive.” Echo spoke in direction of Bellamy, sat across from her. “Someday you’ll thank him for that.”

“Will I?” He seemed doubtful.

“There’s no starting over without forgiveness, Bellamy.” Aurora’s eyes fell to the ground as she listened and she frowned, thinking. She didn’t remember exactly why her father and aunt’s relationship was complicated, but that wasn’t what went through her mind anyways. She thought of Jordan, and the argument that resulted in her breaking up with him. It was unpleasant to think about, and she just shoved it back in the depth of her mind. Maybe she would deal with it when he got down here, or maybe not.

“I can’t.” He shook his head, conflicted.

“One more time, Eligius IV, this is expedition one. Raven, do you read?”

“Raven’ll get the radio fixed.” Clarke said. “I’m sorry I turned you in, Shaw.”

“You really wanna do this now?”

“Maybe you two should speak in private.” Murphy shrugged, lying against a trunk with Emori.

“No. I want you all to hear this. If I could, I’d go back and do things differently, but I can’t. None of us can. For some reason, Monty thought we deserved a second chance.”

“Not for nothing, but this is, like, your fifth chance.”

“Yours too, Murphy.”

He held her gaze, a smirk dawning on his face before getting on his feet, “Very good. I got watch.”

Shaw spoke up again, “You’re right. Your friend Monty gave you a second chance, but, now what? Salvation comes from faith and good works, what you do, not what you say. You haven’t done anything yet.”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t respond, leaving a silence, a silence that alarmed Bellamy. He straightened his back, “Hey, listen, you hear that?” but there was nothing to be heard, except the crackling of the campfire. A complete silence around them. It took a few seconds but then it hit Aurora.

“The bugs. We don’t hear them anymore.”

They all stood up as Jackson exclaimed, walking over to them, “You guys got to see this.” He held up a glass jar, holding an alien bug inside, going ballistic, throwing itself against the glass, making noises. “5 minutes ago, this thing ate a leaf out of my hand. Now, it wants to eat me. Not only that, but its entire physiology has changed from—” Murphy slapped his neck with a grunt out of a sudden, cutting him off.

“Oh, look at that. Your pet’s pissed I killed its brother.”

“What the hell is that?” Emori asked, as a buzzing sound grew louder. They all looked up at the treetops, from which a bunch of bugs started flying out and over their heads. A swarm. A swarm coming from the direction of where their ship landed. As Echo stated, they would never make it back there.

Bellamy commanded, “Everyone cover up. We’re heading to the beacon now.” Maybe there was nothing there, but if they didn’t start running within a second, they would become bug food. He shouted at everyone to move and cover their faces as they began getting attacked by the bugs. As they ran through the forest, he held Aurora forearm with a strong grip, and she almost tripped a few times, keeping up his pace. Emori had lost them and called out for help, stopping Murphy in his course as he turned back. Shaw urged him to take out the flare from his bag. He activated it and held it up as it ignited with a bright red flame and white cloud. It worked in pushing the bugs off of them. Bellamy noted their hate for the fire and told everyone to light all of the flares they had brought. Murphy and Echo went to fetch Emori, pulling her up and they proceeded through the forest with the ones holding the flares around the group, following Shaw as he held the beacon tracker. A second after he said it was right there, he got struck by lighting, but there was no storm. It wasn’t lighting. It was electricity.

“It’s killing him. Get him out.” Echo cried out.

“It’s radiation. It won’t affect me.”

“Clarke, no! Get back!” Bellamy yelled while she ran to Shaw and dragged him to the other side. Murphy’s flare ceased to emit its fire, and the swarm was getting closer, the buzzing sound intensifying. “Clarke, we’re running out of time here.”

They grunted, ducking and shielding their heads with their arms as all their flares stopped working, and the bugs reached them. Once she deactivated the power of the towers blocking their path, she called out for them. Bellamy pulled Aurora’s arm as they ran as fast as they could. She reactivated the towers and the electric wall fried the bugs on the spot. The second they were safe, Bellamy turned to his daughter, bringing his hands to her face, his eyes shifting from one point to the other, as though scanning her, asking if she was okay. She nodded, mumbling something. Her eyes went to Shaw on the ground, struggling to breathe, Clarke and Jackson by his side. She stared at the grave burns on his face. He pushed away Jackson’s hand when the latter took out a seringe.

“No, don’t waste it. Tell Raven she deserves happiness. She doesn’t think she does, but… she does.” Then, the gasping stopped, and he stopped moving too, his gaze freezing in place. Aurora couldn’t move, couldn’t stop staring at him, and didn’t even look up when she felt her father’s hand on her shoulder. It was the first time she was witnessing the death of someone, and even though she didn’t know Shaw beyond his name, it still shook her to her core, seeing the life leaving someone’s eyes like that. Her brain instantly started to make up pictures of her mother, inert, not breathing, eyes gone blank. She had never seen her mom dying, obviously, she was a literal newborn when it happened, and perhaps that was the reason why her brain made up those horrific, choking images.

Aurora’s eyes were stuck on the young man on the ground, but she wasn’t looking at him anymore. She wasn’t looking at anything. She couldn’t focus on any of them around the body, not even on the body itself, and she didn’t even realize everyone had gone quiet. It took a few shakes for Bellamy to make her snap out of it, and he saw beyond the terror on her face. Shaw’s death alone hadn’t caused this. Seeing someone die, especially for the first time, was in fact a shock, but he knew this wasn’t what disturbed her so much. He knew this involved her mother, or she wouldn’t have such a strong reaction. He drew her into a hug.

This was also the brutal realization of the dangers that being on the ground entailed.

They had walked for a good part of the night, and the sun was high up in the sky as they passed colorful fields below, making some sort of shape, with the radiation fence going around the whole area.

“What kind of people have a radiation fence?” Emori wondered.

“The kind of people that want to keep something out.” Clarke declared.

Bellamy led the group, “Beacon should be right up ahead.”

“What are we gonna tell Raven?”

“He died a hero.”

“Look. I do hate to make this about us, but—”

“Then don’t. Shaw just saved your life, Murphy.” She cut him off without as much as a glance.

“I’m aware. I’m also aware that we just lost our pilot. Madi’s still up there. You’re not worried you’re never gonna see her again?” She swiftly turned on her heels and pushed him. Miller put himself in between the two of them, telling her to ignore him, while the rest stopped in their tracks, turning to them. He had that signature smirk on his face, “Yeah. Your red queen is still up there, too, Miller. Who you gonna follow now?”

Miller grabbed Murphy by the collar of his jacket and Bellamy rose his voice, “Hey. Hey! Miller.” The latter let go. Clarke looked at him, frowning in anger. “As therapeutic as it is to beat up on Murphy, Emori can fly.”

“Sure. Yeah. I’ve had one successful landing in a ship I trained in for 6 years. No problem.” She didn’t sound too convinced, turned around and kept on walking, and so did the rest. Aurora remembered her father saying this name, Madi, Clarke’s adoptive child. Not that there was much to say about her, so she had merely heard of her. Her attentiveness was higher when the stories were those of her parents, or Murphy, or her mom and Murphy. She was quite happy to have witnessed the sarcasm and arrogance of Murphy and couldn’t help but to imagine what a duo her mom and him once were. Cutting her daydreaming session short, Emori called out to all of them, pointing to stairs in front of them.

“Easy. We approach slow, no hostile movements.” Bellamy advised.

The stairs led them to some grand building, with smaller but still pretty sheet metal walled constructions on each side of it, and a flower surrounded pond at the center. Colourful triangle flags garlands were hanging round the place.

“They have a castle.” Murphy looked up.

Aurora smiled, chuckling, “Who are these people? What is this place?”

It was a nice place, but the fact it was empty, and that there was not one sign of life was strange. They looked around, Murphy went knocking on doors, but were met with nothing but dead silence. As Emori called their attention, her eyes on the garland above their head, they approached.

“Alie?” She asked.

“I— Becca did the teck for Eligius.” Aurora listened and racked her brains trying to remember all she had heard about this Alie, or Becca. The woman had wrecked havoc amongst them with her city of light thing, gone from offering to forcing people to take the ‘key’ to enter that place. Neither of her parents had taken it. But her grandfather had been tortured into taking it, and it was a hard time for her mother.

“Right. Destroy the world, 200 years later, they put you on a flag.” Bellamy spoke. “See? Hope for us yet.”

“Hello? Invaders from Earth. Can we come in?”

“John, keep it down.”

He walked towards Emori, “I don’t know why we’re knocking. Gone door to door, and no one’s here.”

“These are people’s homes. We’re not breaking in like thieves.”

“Bellamy’s right.” Clarke said. “If we want to do better here, we can’t be just—”

She cut herself off when Murphy kicked a door in. The doors slammed loudly against the walls. “Well, look at that. This one’s unlocked.”

He walked in, followed by Bellamy and Clarke who peeked inside, but Aurora’s gaze had turned to the horizon. Just as it happened the night before, the red sun came to cover the other. She squinted her eyes, staring at it. There was something captivating about this red sun. Her father came out of the house and told her to stop doing that. She blinked, her eyes had gotten watery and turned away, throwing her foot and looking around. Emori decided to go try picking the castle’s door lock, with Murphy keeping her company, while the rest of them waited at a playground right by the flight of stairs leading up to the palace. Aurora was sitting on a swing, her dad on the other seat, tip toeing as far back as she could to send herself swinging. After a while, Murphy started singing, dancing around, throwing them a whole show. Aurora laughed. Bellamy kept on trying to reach Raven with his radio every now and then, but there was only static on the other end.

“So, any guesses where all the people went?” Echo enquired. “This place is too well-maintained to be abandoned.”

“Maybe. But if they are gone, then there’s enough room here for everybody on the ship.” Bellamy glanced at her, before getting up and following Clarke inside a building. Aurora winced, closing her eyes for a second. She didn’t have a headache, but her head felt weird. “Clarke, did you read this?” She heard her father’s voice and stopped her swing, digging her heels in the gravel, and looked over her shoulder as Echo, Clarke and him gathered around a book he held in his hand. It looked like a kid’s book or something. Clarke shook her head left to right and he opened it. It was an illustrated book. “Trees and plants give us shade. We need them everyday. When the stars align and the forest wakes, it’s time to run away.”

Aurora observed them, gauging the expressions on their faces, not understanding what this was about. She ended up getting on her feet and walking over to them. Clarke had taken the book and turned the page.

“For two days, heaven is hell…” She read in a quiet voice. Clarke turned the page again. “…and friends are foes.”

“It’s not a nursery rhyme.” The latter added. “It’s a warning.”

“Like a cautionary tale.”

Clarke gave the girl a nod. Then Murphy stopped singing and dancing and playing air guitar and started shouting no. Their literal ship was flying out of the forest. They were getting their ship stolen right before their eyes. Taking a step back while suddenly looking in a different direction, Aurora bumped into her father. Emori had charged at Murphy, yelling about how he wouldn’t kill her and swinging her knife at him, stabbing him. He collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain. Bellamy insisted Aurora stayed put, and he and Echo and Clarke went running towards the scene. Jackson and Miller raced down the stairs to the castle’s first floor, rushing to them as well. From where she was, Aurora only saw Emori leaning over and throwing her knife everywhere aggressively. They pulled her off him and she kept on yelling, telling them he was going to do it to them too.

They quickly figured out – or rather Clarke did, as she was holding the book – that Emori losing her mind and attacking her literal boyfriend had to do with whatever the red sun story was saying. Their friends would turn into foes due to the exposure to the red sun. It would happen to them too sooner rather than later if they stayed out there. They had to knock out Emori so she would calm down and attached her with cuffs hanging from the wall in one of the houses. This addition to the home now made sense. It was probably meant to be used for this. Jackson was in another corner of the room, tending to Murphy’s wound.

“How long will she be out?” Echo wondered.

“The sedative in the tranq-sticks should last up to three hours.” Jackson informed.

“Hey, what about the mothership?” Miller brought back the subject. “They’re gonna think it’s us. How do we warn them?”

“We don’t. Radios don’t work down here.” Bellamy turned his head to him. “For now, we worry about ourselves.”

“Is he okay?” Aurora whispered to her father, poking his arm. Murphy kept his head against the wall, looking atEmori, and didn’t reply when Bellamy asked him directly if he was okay. Jackson was the one to speak.

“His wounds are superficial. You’re lucky.”

“I’m lucky?” Murphy straightened his head. “Sorry, is that your professional diagnosis? Because if so, you suck at being a doctor.”

“Murphy—”

He cut off Echo, “What? No, what? I’m dying to know what he thinks turned my girlfriend into the monster that just attacked me.”

“It’s the sun.”

He lifted his eyes to look above Jackson’s shoulder, at Aurora, “What do you mean ‘the sun’?”

“Murphy.” Bellamy just said his name firmly, reminding them to watch his tone. He looked away. He did look embarrassed to have spoken to Aurora with the same pissed off and snappy tone as he did with Jackson.

Clarke spoke up, opening the book, “It’s all right here. ‘For two days, heaven is hell, and friends become foes.’. Whatever’s in the air, it affects people, too.”

“Why are the rest of us okay?” Miller asked.

“I don’t know, but according to this, it comes from the plants.”

“It’s a children’s book.” Murphy questioned the story’s reliability.

“Yeah, but it’s coming true. When we were running from the bugs, Emori went down in the brush. It’s probably why she lost it first.”

“First?” Echo picked up on this qualifier.

“We’re all breathing it in.” Bellamy said.

“If it’s the air out there, then we’ll stay in here. We are gonna ride it out.”

“That’s a great plan, Miller.” Murphy pinched the bridge of his nose. “What happens when we’re trapped in here and the rest of us lose our minds?”

“Murphy’s right.” Bellamy admitted, standing up. “There’s more restraints in the school. I’m guessing they’re everywhere. We need to separate.”

Bellamy sent Aurora to go with Clarke and Murphy at the children’s school. Clarke helped the girl, checking if she tightened her restraint enough, and glanced at Murphy, “Trying to keep the air out is pointless, Murphy.”

“Kind of like trying to survive by locking by locking yourself up with the commander of death? Of course, you don’t really need airborne toxins to turn on your friends, do you, Clarke? Your dad ever told you those stories about Clarke, Ari? Or did he skip them altogether?”

The door opened and Bellamy stepped in, locking them behind him, “Okay. Echo’s with Emori. Jackson is with Miller upstairs. No one’s armed. Now it’s our turn. Gun.” He stopped in front of Murphy. The latter stood there for a second and handed it to him. Bellamy looked over his shoulder at Clarke, sitting on a large floor cushion. “What’d I miss? Okay. Consider this time to work out your differences.” He put down the guns by the door. “Let’s do this. Now, Murphy.”

“Why do you get to keep everyone’s keys?” He questioned.

“Relax. Clarke will have mine.” He threw her the key. “Satisfied?”

He sketched a tight smile, tilting his head, “I guess so, as long as the people who live here don’t come home after they kill everybody on the mothership.”

“Nice one, Murphy.” He sat at a table, across from Aurora, who was tied to the restraint on the other side.

They had no idea how much time was passing, as it was passing at a morbidly slow rate. Murphy sighed, “God, I hate being tied up, yet somehow whenever I’m with you, sooner or later, we wind up here, don’t we? I mean, first you hanged me.”

“Well, in fairness, I did that.”

“Only after she forced your hand. And as it then happened every single time, your mom, Ari, was the only one to have my back.” His eyes went to the ground, with a heavy sigh, before going back up to Clarke. “And who could forget Lexa? Yeah. I was tied up that night, too, just a disposable pawn in your game.”

She shook her head, “That’s not fair.”

“Neither was tying up me and Emori in Becca’s lab, but she was disposable, too, right? I know you remember that one, Clarke, so let’s lighten up Ari’s lantern on your character. You drew a little picture of it  in your memory book. Let me ask you a question. Did you draw a picture of Bellamy in the fighting pit, too? Did you draw one of Michelle when she was tied up with me in the bunker’s mechanical room?”

“Okay, Murphy. That’s enough.” He had been talking over him, raising his voice, ever since he mentioned him and the fighting pit, but Murphy only stopped himself after the second question. Aurora was looking at Clarke from the corner of her eyes. “Don’t make me gag you too.”

Murphy showed his palms, “Ow.”

The motion seemed to have revived the pain. Clarke flatly said Jackson would take a look at his wounds in the morning.

“Oh, it’s not from the knife. It’s from the bullet wounds that I took from saving Bellamy’s life from those armed psychopaths you put back in the battlefield.”

She snapped, “What the hell do you want from me, Murphy? I’m sorry, okay? For all of it. I never meant for you to get hurt, but no matter what I do, someone always does. Is that what you want to hear, that I’m the bad guy? Fine. I’ll be the bad guy. When I’m in charge, people die. Isn’t that what you said? Satisfied?”

He shot up a smirk, which disappeared almost as soon as it had lifted the corners of his lips, “It’s a start.”

Right above their heads, they heard Miller screaming for help. Clarke and Bellamy stood up, and the latter attempted to call out for their friend, but he wasn’t answering.

“I gotta get up there now. Hand me my key, now!”

“Fine, but I’m going with you. Throw me mine.”

They heard Echo’s voice, muffled by the walls separating them, telling Jackson to use the tranquilizers that they had divided between each group. Bellamy and Clarke ran out of the room. Aurora watched her father leave, worried, but remained seated and silent.

“Hey! What about me?” His question was left unanswered and he just glanced over at Aurora. His eyes shifted around and there was this restlessness that took over him. Aurora wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. She was wincing. Her head felt like a metal round was being tightened around it. She, for some reason, jerked to her feet and pulled on her cuff, groaning like a beast. She felt this urge to get out of there. She had to go outside. She was waiting for her right out the door. She let out a cry, pulling on her restraint so hard, there was a sudden sharp pain in her wrist, almost as though something popped as her hand slipped through and she fell on her back.

“Baby, come here.”

“Mom, wait.” She cries, gets up and stumbles, catching herself onto the wall and hitting her wrist. Her scream of pain died in her throat and she groaned. She kept on crying for her mom to wait but her silhouette kept on slipping away behind corners. But then it wasn’t only her mom’s voice that took over her mind. She couldn’t make out who was talking at this point. She curled up in a corner and covered her ears, panting and sobbing.

“You killed me—

giving birth to you killed me.”

“You killed her—

I loved her and you killed her.”

“You murderer.”

“Why are you still alive?”

“You’re useless.”

“I loved you so much I died for you—

you ungrateful brat.”

“You pushed away the only boy who cared about you—

you’ll die alone.”

“You want to join me—

Join your mommy.

Come with me.”

She shut her eyes, pressing her hands on her ears, digging her nails into her hair, calling for her mom repeatedly. When her mother’s voice got clearer, telling her to come join her at the pond, she stood up and walked around the building. Somewhere in the compound, her father was shouting, calling for Murphy, threatening him, but she ignored it. Her entire focus was on going to her mother, and she stood right by the pond. She seemed blurry, strange, as she got closer. Her feet entered the water, gradually sinking at every step she took.

“Come here, baby.” She pulled her into a hug and her grip tightened to the point she could barely breathe. “You killed me.” She looked down. Her mother was covered in blood from her waist down, and the blood was flowing abundantly. “You killed me. You killed me.”

“I’m sorry—” Her cries cut off her breathing, and she gasped as she felt a push and fell in the water. Some water slipped into her nose and mouth and she coughed. Under the water, everything got darker, quieter, so she stopped moving, until she got pulled out, by Murphy.

“No, no, no, come on. Don’t die on me. Ari—” He leaned over her, checking if she was breathing, but before he could do anything Bellamy rushed in his direction and knocked him off her, tackling him to the ground, shouting like an enraged animal, accusing him to try to kill his daughter, and repeating he would keep them safe. He threw his fists at his face, left, right, left, right and then pushed his head into the water as the fight ended up in the pond, and he attempted to drown him as Murphy tried to fight him off. He called for Clarke a few times when he had his head above water, but soon stopped, breathing in water and gasping for air.

Aurora wasn’t dead, or completely out either, she coughed up water and gasped, unable to take breaths in. She was as though choking onto air. Her chest tightened. Her vision was blurry, but she rolled her eyes to the side and watched the scene, helpless, parting her lips but she was barely breathing so speaking even a single word was out of the question. Bellamy abandoned Murphy in the water, stomping towards Clarke as she approached, shouting as well. She incapacitated him, stabbing him in the thigh and ran to get Murphy out of the water. He was unconscious. Aurora watched through her eyelashes, unable to open her eyes, coughing. She couldn’t even wince or frown at the pain it made her feel. Bellamy came back, throwing Clarke to the ground, getting on top of her and choking her. Murphy had come back to, gasping, and jumped on him to get him off of her. Bellamy picked up a knife from a bag lying on the ground and swung it around. Murphy snatched it from him, putting his arm around him.

“You’re killing her.”

“No.” He groaned. “I’m saving us from both of you!”

Clarke grabbed something from the bag, pulled it open, releasing a cloud of smoke that knocked both men out. She managed to lean on her arms and lift herself up to vomit, before collapsing again.

Some time had passed. No one would be able to tell how much. Burt enough for Abby, Raven, Jordan and Octavia to reach them, only to find the four of them lying on the dirt, by the pond. Jordan got alarmed by how inert they were, and Abby sped up her walk, crouching by Clarke, checking on her. She told the others she was alive. Raven and Jordan crouched down nearby, the latter turned to Aurora. His eyes could not stop moving from one point to the other, breathing rapidly, calling her name but she was unresponsive. He turned around as he heard Bellamy’s voice.

“Abby?” He had just woken up and grunted, looking at the stab wound on his leg. He crossed Clarke guilty gaze, but then noticed Octavia standing nearby, and questioned what the hell she was doing there, before cutting himself off, turning his head and glancing at Murphy with remorse, remembering what had happened. He did feel beyond bad, but it all faded into the background when he saw Aurora. He tried to get up without putting his weight on his injured leg and kneeled by her side. Abby was trying to get Murphy to wake up.

“His pulse is too weak.” She whispered.

“Abby.” Bellamy cried out her name. She looked up, came to check the girl’s pulse.

“She got a weak pulse as well.”

“Mom, what is this?” Clarke was pulling on Murphy’s shirt, uncovering the top of his chest, and revealing black veins sticking out. Abby was dumbfounded. She turned back to Aurora and lowered her shirt slightly, finding the same black veins showing. Bellamy had his eyebrows pulled together, eyes wet, cupping his daughter’s cheek in his hand, caressing her with his thumb, sniffing and wiping away a tear. He was beyond terrified of her not waking up. It was Michelle all over again, and he couldn't bear to lose his baby again. His eyes didn’t leave her face while others looked over their shoulder as the sound of children shouting got closer. The strange woman that had accompagnied the group watched the few dozen kids run in their direction.

“It’s okay, Rose. Don’t be afraid.” She said, lifting her hands – she was handcuffed.

The little girl turned to Clarke, “Are you here to take us home?”

“Isn’t this your home?”

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (jan 20)

Published (01/16/2026) by Andrea

Taglist: @mirellef2001

[justinewt]

Welcome to Planet Alpha - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Fourty-Three

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (Jan 15)

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: The 100 season 6 spoilers (covering episode 1 "Sanctum")

“Can you see it? Is it beautiful? It is in my dreams. I hope we do better there. I hope your lives there will be as happy as mine has been. Be the good guys.

May we meet again.”

Murphy mumbled those words back. He stood in front of the window, his arm in a sling, looking out at the new world Monty had led them to – and wasn’t there to witness. He wasn’t alone. Beside him, Raven, her hands in her pockets. Behind the two of them, Echo, Emori, Shaw, and Abby. Bellamy, Clarke, Jordan, and Aurora in the back. To say that the atmosphere in the room was heavy would be an understatement.

Needless to say, their reaction to Aurora had been stronger than to Jordan. Abby remembered the girl who was her best friend’s daughter, who she saw grow up, struggle, and survive. Murphy was by far the most affected by Michelle’s death, after Clarke and Bellamy of course. He genuinely thought he would wake up and Michelle would be there. Instead, was someone with her face, but neither her name nor her voice, and with Bellamy’s eyes and freckles. Still, he looked at her and could only see Michelle. She was gone now. And the girl that stood across from him was someone else entirely. He clearly struggled with dissacioating the two.

That’s when Aurora realised that despite knowing all of their stories, all of their relationships with her parents, and especially with her mother, she had never fully grasped the depth of certain of them. She had taken the stories between her mother and Murphy way too lightly and had never understood the emotions involved. While the group watched the recordings, as Bellamy and Clarke did before, they watched carefully. Raven tried to keep her composure, but her eyes, and her downturned lips betrayed her sadness. Abby had tears rolling down her cheeks. Echo stood upright, sometimes lowering her head, and so did Emory sometimes. Shaw didn’t really know any of them, so he looked sorry rather than sad, and listened as quietly as everyone else.

Murphy was crushed. He stood upright during the first video – the video of Michelle’s pregnancy announcement – and his throat and chastened tightened as the second video started. He obviously knew where it was going, but it still took until Monty said she was gone, and started bawling, that Murphy fell on a chair and put his face in his hands. Emori put his hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t crying loudly, but they all knew tears were streaming down his face. Bellamy, his arms locked around his daughter’s shoulders, watched the man who, when they first landed on the ground, used to be his arch nemesis in camp. This man who crumbled and cried his eyes out when Michelle’s death became a reality. He could have kept his composure, and acted tough, as long as Monty didn’t speak the words outloud. Bellamy watched him. He could ignore Michelle and Murphy’s bond all he wanted in the past, but not right there and then. Their relationship had transformed so much over time, that when she died it was far from anything remotely close to ‘romantic’ love. There was a very different, not any less deep, kind of love. Bellamy understood that now. He did often feel somewhat jealous when seeing Michelle and Murphy look at each other, say sarcastic things or spend time together as they did so much, especially back on the ring. Michelle was literally the one that went to him after he isolated himself from the group. He often wondered if Murphy had ever truly been in love with Emory, and if he wasn’t still into Michelle. Truth is, he wasn’t. Bellamy understood that, but he would never really know how Murphy hadn’t looked at Michelle that way ever since their short-lived romance.

“I know this is a lot to process.” Bellamy spoke, as they all faced Monty’s discovery, outside the window. “Take an hour, and meet in the mess. We need to game this out.”

“Guys, we survived. Monty made sure of it.” Jordan ducked his head at Clarke’s addition. Bellamy and Michelle glanced at him.

“Now we get our humanity back.” Abby whispered, full of hope.

“Some of us never lost it.” Raven was upset, and bitterly shot back at her, before turning around and walking away, followed by Shaw a second later.

They all stood there in silence for a moment, and an hour later, met in the cantina. Aurora stared at her plate, seating next to her father, and across from Murphy and Emori. Clarke came in and was presented with Monty’s preserved algae food by Jordan and gave her a bowl. Apparently, it didn’t taste good, but as he mentioned to her, it was the only thing he and Ari had ever eaten, so they wouldn’t know better.

“Your mother’s not touching hers.” He added.

“She’s worried about Kane. I’ll go talk to her.” She looked over her at her mother. Aurora only ever had her father’s accounts on everything that happened from the moment the original 100 landed on the ground, to her birth. He made sure she knew her family’s history. She was aware the dying man in cryo was her grandfather. She didn’t know how to feel about him. She had heard how her mother loved him so dearly, and Aurora spent her entire life dreaming she could meet and talk to him, but he was in such a condition, if he ever was to be taken out of cryo, he would die. The love she had for him herself was kind of distant. She only knew of him through other people’s words. But something she also knew was that her mother was against keeping him alive like this, and it was Abby who sure he was put in cryo, instead of letting him go. Given all she had heard about him and her mother, their relationship, she was sure that man would have rather gone into space with his daughter as her corpse was floated when she died. Aurora never understood why they still didn’t do it even though it only made sense. She couldn’t understand what Abby, or anyone else, wanted to do with him. As Jordan hurriedly left the room, she just stared from the corner of her eyes and finished her bowl.

She knew exactly what Jordan had got off to fetch for Clarke; something Monty had saved for her to try and save Kane with. Aurora was upset about the fact they hadn’t respected her mother’s wish – to let her father go in peace.  She grew up, visiting that man, in cryo, whose vitals were always terrible because he was dying, and they kept him in there for over a century, and it simply infuriated her. Given how her mother talked about him, back when she was a kid, she could only imagine the relationship they once had, and she could guess, that her grandfather would have wanted to go with his daughter, when she died. It was wild thinking he didn’t even know she died and had a child herself. She rested her chin on her hand and played with her bowl, making it spin on the table, clanking on the table as it lost speed.

His eyes on Clarke as she walked past them, Bellamy lifted his hand and stopped the bowl, “Hey, you see Raven or Shaw?”

“You know, the people you handed over to our enemy to be tortured?” Emori added, bitter.

“Now, for Clarke, we call that a Tuesday.” After Murphy’s comment, Echo tried to calm things down.

“Easy, she did the right thing in the end.”

Glancing at each of them, Clarke quietly replied she hadn’t seen them and went over to her mother, seating by her side, trying to get her to eat something. That’s the moment Jordan came back with a tray holding the first-gen algae that his dad had made, and wanted him to give them, in hopes it could save Kane. Everyone at Aurora’s table listened, Bellamy and Echo turning to look over at the other table. Only Aurora stayed put, losing herself in her thoughts, her eyes going blank and everything around her getting blocked out. She didn’t even notice Abby leaving, or whatever she had told Clarke beforehand. She didn’t notice Raven and Shaw strutting in, until her father noticed the state she was in. It had happened many times before, so he wasn’t alarmed, though he didn’t like seeing her like this and had found an effective way to get her back with them was to touch her. He put his hand on her wrist and squeezed ever so slightly, mumbling something. She eventually snapped out of her thoughts, and her gaze went from him to behind her as she heard movement. Jordan had handed bowls to Raven and Shaw.  

Bellamy stood up, “Listen up. Here’s what we know. Eligius III was a colonizing mission. According to the file, the mothership went to 5 planets that met necessary conditions for life, dropping mission teams on each one. Monty picked planet Alpha for us because it’s the closest, and probably the most like earth.”

“Probably?” Murphy’s intervention invited for some explanation, as to what he meant.

“We have to assume they couldn’t know for sure until they got here. We can scan the atmosphere from the bridge.” Shaw was the only one who Aurora didn’t know. She couldn’t even remember whether her mother mentioned his name or not.

“A-actually we can’t.” Jordan spoke. “None of the equipment we used to monitor earth is working. I’m guessing it’s interference from the ionosphere.”

“Bottom line is, we won’t know until we get down there.” Bellamy concluded.

“What about radio signals? Anything from the ground that the mission team survived?” Raven’s questions were met with a disappointing answer – there was no radio signals. Jordan assumed this was also due to the ionosphere. Only thing they could catch was a ‘ultra-high-frequency ping’ as he put it, and Shaw put a name on that. He said it was a “rescue beacon”, something they themselves used on Eligius IV. Aurora glanced at him, finally gathering some information on him. He had been apart of a team of one of those Eligius ship.

“If there’s a beacon, it someone’s down there, right?” Emory wondered.

Shaw turned to her, “Not necessarily. They’re solar, so—”

“They can last forever.” Raven said, finishing his sentence. “How long ago did Eligius III get here?”

“Hard to tell since they never radiod back, but best estimate… 200 years, give or take.” Jordan deduced.

“That’s a long time waiting for a rescue.” Murphy stated, with a stoic face.

Aurora leaned against the table, bringing her legs to her chest, feet on the edge of her seat, looking at her hands as Bellamy spoke, settling their discussion. They would trust Monty and would land at a distance from the signal, giving them time to acclimate. They would wait for people – if there were anyong down there – to come to them. Bellamy slipped a dad comment in there, telling Aurora to get her feet of the chair and sit correctly. She rolled her eyes and sighed and put her feet back on the floor. They then went on to talk about the guns and the weapons they would take with them, including grenades and shock batons so as to have some non-lethal weapons also. The word was to not shoot first, and her father specifying “this time”, led Aurora to think that’s not what they used to do.

“In that case, Clarke should stay here.” The latter briefly closed her eyes, shooting up her eyebrows.

“Raven, you’re the one that’s staying here.”

She shifted her gaze to Bellamy, smiling in disbelief with a laugh, “What? Like hell I am.”

“Look. We can’t take both our pilots, and since we’ll be flying blind until we’re below the ionosphere, it has to be Shaw. That’s not all. Jordan, you’re staying, too.”

“Me? Why?”

“I know it’s hard, but your parents asked us to keep you safe. We have no idea what’s waiting for us down there.” Clarke explained.

“Which is why we should take our best fighters.” Echo said, to which Bellamy that his sister was the last person he trusted not to shoot first. She was going to stay on ice, along with everyone else until they knew what they were dealing with. Echo questioned his logic, and Bellamy agreed to waking up Miller instead. Aurora hadn’t heard any mention of her tagging along or staying here and she waited until the others left and headed to the transport ship to go up to her father. He gently grabbed her arm.

“You okay?” She figured he indirectly asked about what had happened earlier. She nodded.

“Do I have to stay on the ship? Or can I come?”

“I’d prefer you to stay here, safe, with Jordan and Raven.” He paused, breathing out through his nose. “If you come, only non-lethal weapons for you, and my word is law. No matter what I tell you, no eye rolling, no sighing, you do it. Aurora? Will you listen to me down there?”

“Yeah, I will listen to you.”

“And you won’t roll your eyes when I tell you something that annoys you?” He rose his eyebrows, with a soft smile. His question was more to tease his teenage daughter rather than completely serious.

She chuckled, knowing she always did that, “Okay, I won’t.” He pulled her into a hug, softly stroking her hair. They held each other for a moment, before joining the others, who were waiting for Bellamy. While he was stopped by Miller, Aurora approached Abby.

“Abby?” Her eyes left Clarke walking away and settled on Aurora. She noticed her eyes going from one point of her face to the other, as did everyone else when they first saw her. “Could give this to my grandpa, if you manage to save him? Or just wake him. It’s a letter my mom had written, and I wrote a little something too on the other side.”

“Don’t worry, I will give it to him, and you will meet him when he goes to the ground.” She wrapped her hand in bewtween hers. Aurora felt a little awkward, nodded with a faint smile. Abby quietly added, “You look so much like your father, but with your mother’s gaze.”

She glanced down, somewhat frowning, “Just save him, and if you can’t, then let him go. That’s what my mom wanted. For him to be at peace, with her and my grandma again.”

Bellamy spoke up, looking around at everyone, “All right. Let’s load up. Aurora, come on.” She left the letters in Abby’s hands and turned on her heels, jogging up to her dad. He put his hand on her shoulder, and they walked onto the transport ship.

She stood by her father near the door as Clarke stepped onto the ship, and he pressed the button to close the door. They all sat down and strapped down onto their chairs and off into space they were. Aurora couldn’t help but smile. She had never thought she would actually get to leave the Eligius IV ship. She hadn’t yet realized it was happening, that she would soon step foot on real soil, and breathe actual air. She couldn’t wait to discover this new world and find out how it felt like to be anywhere other than on a ship floating in space. Her foot kept on tapping on the floor, playing with her fingers, staring outside the big central windows. She didn’t know what could be down there. There was this incertainty that anyone or anything that were down there, human or animals, could be hostile, and rock their plans of finding a nice world to settle in.

Shaw spoke with Raven over the radio every now, but they lost coms with the ship as they entered a zone of turbulences as they got below the ionosphere. Aurora was holding onto her seat, sticking her feet flat against the floor, as the whole ship shook and she tried to stabilize herself. And then, it just got calmer in a second. The thick clouds were replaced by a gorgeous view of mountains, covered in the warm orange light of a sunset. It reflected on the brown of her eyes as they widened, bringing hints of gold to her irises. Her lips parted and soon turned into the biggest smile ever.

Shaw turned to them, “Boys and girls, meet planet Alpha.”

Aurora’s eyes kept on going left, right, up and down, and back and forth, trying to engrave every single detail of that landscape onto her memory. The rocky mountains soon got covered with dense forests and vegetation, and they landed in the middle of that lush nature. He turned off the engines, and they all unstrapped themselves and headed to the door. Bellamy pressed a button and the platform slowly opened and started to go down to the ground. Aurora could literally not stop smiling, so much so her cheeks were hurting, and she didn’t think it was possible. She wanted to look at everything, but there was so much nature, so many trees, this mix of deep green and rich orange in their foliage, and the tall mountains spreading in the horizon. Jackson noted the air was breathable, as they weren’t actively choking, and Emory looked down at a small instrument in her hand, stating the radiation levels were good as well.

Aurora looked up at the sky, it kind of looked like a boiled egg yolk, not that she had ever eaten one. She took a step forward down the platform and Bellamy grabbed her arm, “How about that beacon, Shaw?”

“8 clicks due east. I think it’s on high ground. There’s a water source about halfway.”

Clarke looked at Aurora, “When we landed on Earth, your aunt was the one to step on the ground first. You should go first.”

The girl turned her head to her father, and he let go of her arm, giving her a soft smile, and nodded for her to go. Her grin got even brighter and she took her time walking down the platform. As she reached the edge, she looked at the ground, lifting her foot ever so slightly, and took her first step ever on real soil. She felt the leaves of the plants brushing off against the fabric of her pants. It was like a bunch of soft and fluffy brushes caressing her calves. She turned around, crouching down, shouting how soft it was, making them laugh. She heard Clarke quietly telling Bellamy how his daughter had the exact same smile as him, but her eyes, they felt like it was Michelle herself looking at them. Murphy acquiesced behind them as they joined her off the ship, and she got back up from playing with the fern’s leaves, too busy admiring her surroudings still to pay attention to what they were saying, but she heard it was about their friend, Monty, who she knew as Jordan’s father.

“He already said it, ‘do better there’—so let’s do better.” Clarke spoke, quoting Monty.

“That’s easy to say, but talk is cheap.” Shaw said before walking off, followed by the other as Clarke turned to Bellamy, shooting up her eyebrows.

“Hey, he’ll come around. They all will. Don’t fall behind.” He put his hand on Aurora’s back, leading her to walk along with him.

She was completely and utterly blown away by what she had seen and was still seeing, and was beyond excited for whatever was to come.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (jan 15)

Published (01/10/2026) by Andrea

Taglist: @mirellef2001

[justinewt]

Emerald Grove - BALDUR'S GATE 3 FANFICTION Chapter Two

[BALDUR'S GATE III FANFIC-MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (SOON)

Words: 6 to 6.5k

Warnings: Baldur's Gate III Act One spoilers

The words of the withering man still echoed in Balfryn’s mind as she dragged her feet through the deep water, heading out of the crypt. Who was he when he was alive? Was he ever a living being, or had he always been this mystical creature? She squinted her eyes, lifting her hand above her face. An hour had been enough to unaccustom her eyes to the brightness of the sun, on top of the fact Drows had very sensitive eyes to begin with. They lived in the Underdark, a vast series of caverns and tunnels, along with many a kind of dangerous monsters and mushrooms – yes, including a people of sentient mushroom beings, she remembered reading about them.

If she ever did set foot down there, she had no memory of it at all either, but she truly believed she was from the city, somehow. Astarion and Gale followed her outside and up along the cliff, glancing beneath them, watching the waves crash against the rocks from the corner of her eyes. The path brought them back to the ruined chapel, passing by the back wall, and kept going, heading west for now. She wasn’t sure where to go, but it had become clear that they were relying on her to lead the way, so she did, even though she did not know where to go. She had hopes they would meet people along the way, and decide on a precise destination, instead of merely wandering around.  As they approached a tall arch formed in the rocks, they heard voices. They slowed own their pace, seeing a triangle cage hanging from the arch, and upon coming closer, Balfryn recognized the Gith from the nautiloid ship. Two tieflings with bows on their backs stood there, looking up at her.

“Zorru was right. Yellow as a toad, and twice as ugly.” Said the male one.

“The thing’s dangerous. Leave it for the goblins to kill.” The female tiefling had fine line markings on her face.

Balfryn’s skull pounded in response to the prisoner’s white-hot stare. Her lips didn’t move, yet she heard the latter’s voice. “Get rid of them.”

The female tiefling was the first to notice the newcomers, and her gaze lingered on Balfryn, with a certain fear coming through her voice, “Holy hells. Under-elf.”

Her companion ordered her to pull out her blade, standing his grounds. Balfryn raised her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side and sighed, taking a step forward non-chalantly, and she brought her spear forward, striking the ground slightly with the heel. The weapon’s magical energy was invisible, yet palpable. She advised that if they valued their life, they should walk away and the female tiefling proved so fearful of the Drow that the other urged her to come with him, and they left. The Githyianki hissed through her teeth to get her down.

Balfryn scoffed, slipping the spear in the sling across her back, and crossed her arms, “Say please.”

“Never.”

“Anyway, Gale.” She waved her hand around, stepping aside. He used a simple spell to untie the ropes holding the cage, and it dropped to the ground, breaking apart. The Gith caught herself in the fall and stood up.

“The tadpole hasn’t yet scrambled all your sense. Auspicious. But the longer we wait, the more it consumes. My people possess the cure for this infection. I must find a crèche; you will join me.”

Balfryn frowned at her directiveness, “And what is a crèche, exactly?”

“It is many things. A hatchery, a training grounds, a shelter. The Githyanki protocol is clear: when infected with a ghaik tadpole, we must report to a ghustil for purification.”

The Drow glanced at her two other companions, shrugging. Neither of them said anything. They didn’t have any other lead, and this gave them a destination, it set a goal to reach. She turned back to the Gith and nodded, “All right, we journey together. Let’s find this crèche.”

“You have made an ally from Crèche K’liir – few know such fortune. Call me Lae’zel.” Again, the drow didn’t introduce herself in return. And she wasn’t asked to. “Come. The horned ones mentioned a camp. One there – this zorru – has seen a githyanki. A crèche must be near. We will ask this zorru where he has seen my kin.”

Jumping up the rocks, they took the same direction as the two Tieflings and followed their tracks. They were going North, so that’s where the trio turned quatuor would now go. But as the dirt road split in two, Balfryn noticed the Nautiloid ship, or at least part of it. The crash site must have been quite gigantic. It was right there, just a dozen meters away. She went to take a look, stepping over the burnt floor. And there she saw it – a mindflayer. It was hurt. The group approached the dying monster. This was the thing that adbucted them. Balfryn could end its life here and now, if only she didn’t feel… compassion. Compassion? No. She knew she should be furious at this thing. Yes, she felt hate. And she deserved to be punished for it. She should be whipped – made to bow before this creature in shame. Balfryn could feel the monster making her feel this way, putting these thoughts in her head. She clenched her jaw. It was trying to possess her mind, forcing her to… love it. But then the feeling slipped. The creature’s mind seemed to focus elsewhere. She chose to concentrate on its thoughts, to use the connection too. Their minds fused, lusting for something that is… gone. But then its claws gripped back with a vengeance: a vice locking her mind into obedience. It needs sustenance to survive, and with her very body she could provide it. No. She would resist the intrusion with everything she had. And the monster lied exhausted, defeated. Its eyes – wet, orange pearls – radiate malice. Closing her hands into fists, frowning with fury, she crushed its brain-head under her boot with the wet cracking sound it made, bringing disgust to her face.

“Monster. Death is too good for it.” She thought.

As they walked back to the road and went North, Astarion came up behind her, mentioning he liked the new addition to the group, finding Lae’zel quite delightful, in a very “look at me twice and I’ll dismember you” kind of way, as he put it. After seeing nothing and no one except butterflies and birds flying around, they finally heard voices again. They were yelling at someone to open the gate. When said gate came into view, they stopped and watched. Three humans looked up to a Tiefling standing above on the camp wall.

“Nobody gets in. Zevlor’s orders.”

The young man looked over his shoulder anxiously, “That pack of goblins will be on us any second!”

“What’s going on?” Another Tiefling, older and with a pinkish red skin, appeared, leaning over the railing.

“Goblins are on our tail. Open the gate, Zevlor. Now.”

“You led goblins here?” He exclaimed. “Where is the druid?”

All of a sudden, the goblins jumped on higher rocks around the road, firing arrows at the gate, forcing the Tiefling at the railing to step back. Another was turning the wheel hurriedly to open the gate. He shouted as an arrow pierced right through him. The gate fell rapidly, and the three humans rushed to keep it open, but had to let go under the weight of it. Dust blowing on their faces. Balfryn was about to pull out her spear and involve herself and her companions in the fight, when a man in a leather coat and a sword jumped off the wall onto a rock, and on the ground. His stance, knees slightly bent, his feet shoulder-width apart, standing in three quarter position facing his enemy, told the Drow he was a skilled swordsman.

“Damnable roach. Provoke the Blade…” The goblin tried to attack. He was disarmed almost instantly and stabbed through and through with the sword and thrown aside. “… and suffer its sting.”

The party finally stepped in. There were still a dozen goblins about to attack. The ‘blade’, as he had called himself, would not refuse a little help. Astarion only had a dagger to call a weapon, so he stuck by Balfryn, while Gale and Lae’zel went the other way, to go around and come at the goblins from the back. They would find a better weapon for the elf once this was dealt with. And he would need to train. He probably couldn’t do much with a sword even if he were given one right now. Balfryn put a foot forth, turning her body to the side but keeping her head straight and stretched her arms backwards and threw it forward. The spear went flying at two goblins and went right threw them both. The pointy head of the spear lodged its tip into a stone on the other side of the road, cracking it. It caught the ‘blade’ man’s attention and the confidence on his face found itself replaced with shock and confusion. He stared at her. She took back her spear, sliding them off it like meat on a skewer. She didn’t know who the swordsman was, and neither did she know why he made such a face at the sight of her. Lae’zel rushed at one, cutting off its head with her sword, while Gale threw fire bolts around. Goblins screamed as they burned to death. Astarion took one by surprise and stabbed its neck with his dagger. Balfryn let out a yelp when an arrow lodged itself in her arm. She let go of her spear, but soon the rage replaced the pain. She picked it up and swiftly threw it at her attacker with a growl. The creature was impaled against a tree.

“The druids will take care of that. Don’t worry, Raena.” She turned her head to the ‘blade’ man, getting stuck on the way he had called her. Raena. Like Phy’raena? He clearly knew her. But she didn’t know him or at least didn’t remember him. She let herself fall against the rocks, her hand on her arm, the shaft of the arrow sticking out of her flesh.

“Oh, we have a wizard. He probably knows healing spell—” She tried to sound friendly, and as if she wasn’t actively scratching her brain to try and figure out who he was to her. He must have been close to her. He called her by a nickname. But then, if Phy’raena was her real name… where in the hells did Balfryn come from? Maybe it was someone else’s name. And for some reason, she remembered it, even though she had forgotten everything else. The fight was over just as she finished speaking. He kneeled, breaking off the shaft close to the wound and A large smile had dawned on his face upon seeing her. His lips bent downwards as their minds connected, his thoughts becoming hers. This wasn’t as painful as the first times. She welcomed it. She was the Blade of frontiers, racing through the wastes of Avernus. Just ahead, a diabolical figure – red skin, single curled horn – blazes with flame, bloodied greataxe held high.

He groaned, frowning, “Hells’ great fires – you were on the ship.”

“Yes, and we both carry parasites.”

“Mmh – doomed to shed our skin and become illithid, or so the stories go. But we haven’t sprouted tentacles – not yet, anyway. Could just be good luck. I’m not so…” Their minds collided once more. Wyll chasing the fiend, ignited with rancour. She is an infernal wardevil, a threat to the living – evil incarnate. “Shit – you saw her: advocatus diaboli.”

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Karlach. An archdevil’s soldier I swore on my good eye to kill. I tracked her through the Hells to the mind flayer ship. But the damned illithids infected me before I could end her. She’s out there now, preying on the innocent. I don’t kill her; she’ll leave behind nothing but a trail of corpses.”

“I’m looking to cure our affliction, join us.”

“Just you know, Raena, my first duty is Karlach. I’m oathbound to go after her. But I won’t deny this infection is bothersome, and I’d be more than happy to be by your side again. My sister, we haven’t seen each other in so long. I missed you.” He called her his ‘sister’ – to the shock of her companions. And hers.

“I missed you too.” Maybe she actually did, maybe she didn’t. But she felt it was what he wanted to hear. Her body stiffened when he carefully took her in his arms. Her arms hovered over his back, faintly touching him, until he broke the embrace. She sketched a smile. They would meet in camp tonight – he still sought to have a “catching up” chat with her. She wondered how long she could keep secret his absence from her memory. Maybe would he find out that same night. He seemed like a brave, intelligent young man. She had no doubt he would figure it out.

Gale approached, “Uh, actually… healing spells don’t use the kind of magic I do. Clerics and druids have that kind of spell in store.”

“Come on. Let’s take you to the druids before it gets infected.” She obliged and followed him in the camp after the gate was rolled up for them to enter. He presented the place as being called ‘Emerald Grove’. As the party walked through, they saw many more tieflings, here and there. Balfryn – or rather, Phy’raena – was still ignorant of the ‘blade’ name, and either didn’t care enough to ask, or didn’t dare. She had figured someone would call him by his name at some point. It would spare her the embarrassment, given that she was apparently supposed to know the man. They came to a halt. The red-skinned tiefling, and a human were fighting. It was one of the humans that were outside with them during the Goblin attack.

“There are children here, you fool!” The tiefling – called Zevlor, from what Phy’raena recalled – shouted.

“We was running for our lives.”

“You led them straight to us. And you let them take the druid, too. Unbelievable!”

Still with an arrow very much planted in her arm, Phy’raena stepped forward, “I’ve seen much bloodier battles than this. Consider yourselves lucky.”

“And who the hell are— you again?” He cut himself off mid-sentence upon seeing the arrow. It wasn’t all bloody. The arrowhead was applying enough pressure in the wound for her not to bleed out, but it was still surprising to see the shaft sticking out like that, and the drow just standing there. She hesitated, still unsure which name to use. Both still felt foreign.

“Show some respect! This woman saved your pathetic life.”

“Well, I didn’t ask for any goddamn help.”

“You were begging me to open the gate. Anything to save yourself, you coward.”

The human clenched his fists. His eyes twitching. He was about to blow.

“If you want me to take you down, even with a fucking arrow in my arm, I will. So knock it off.” Phy’raena came closer to the young man. She spoke with a low and threatening voice. She was more than serious. She did not retrieve her spear from the tree it planted itself into, but she could still take him. He glanced back at Zevlor, frowning in defiance.

“Enough. Squabbling is pointless. The goblins have found us.”

“At least we agree on that.” He walked away.

“Forgive that display. Aradin’s a blowhead, but that’s no cause for me to join him. I wouldn’t have looked to a drow for help, but I’m grateful all the same. I’m Zevlor.”

“Do you have something against drow?”

He raised his hand, “I meant no insult. It’s simply that yours are a people at war with themselves – I’ve never known them to care for outsiders. Whatever your business, I’d see to it quickly – the druids are forcing everyone out. This attack will only strengthen their resolve. And you should go get that treated.” He pointed to the arrow. She didn’t react. She knew that, and felt it very well, too.

“I won’t be staying long – I just need to find a healer.” She didn’t say that it wasn’t the only reason she needed a healer, but it would be pointless to elaborate.

“The druid Halsin is a renowed healer, but he didn’t make it back from Aradin’s expedition. Wyll should take you to his apprentice, Nettie.” So, Wyll was it. Learning his name would serve her well – she could now pretend to remember him. “She’s with the other druids, in the inner grove. She should be able to take care of that arrow. They’ve started a ritual to cut the grove off from the world outside. We can’t stay, but we’ll be slaughtered if we leave – we’re no fighters.”

“This ritual – is there no way to convince the druids to stop it?” She wondered.

“I’ve tried. Kagha – their new First Druid – won’t even see me. You, though… I know it’s not your business, but she owes you for saving this place. Perhaps you could persuade her. For more time to prepare, if nothing else.”

“What are you offering for my aid?” She wanted to help, but she wouldn’t say no to something in return. She felt Wyll’s disapproving gaze fall on her.

“We’d owe you a great debt. What little we have, we’ll scrape together. It isn’t coin we need – it’s time.”

“I’ve got other things to deal with right now. I’ll see then if I can talk to Kagha.”

“I understand. I can only thank you for the help you’ve already given, and I also thank you if you do try and talk to her. We’re raised to fear the drow, but you’ve earned your place here. Wyll and I will make sure everyone here knows that.”

“I’ll make sure they know you’re not just any drow, and that they owe you the utmost respect. Her name is Phy’raena Adrian, Zevlor.” He put his hand on her shoulder. Her eyes shifted towards it. Her head stayed still. “Your people are not from the Heartlands, but her father was the great champion of Baldur’s Gate. Savior of the city.”

“A very honorable legacy.”

Wyll thanked Zevlor and led her to the inner grove. Phy’raena stared at the ground. He knew all about her, while she remembered naught. She didn’t know who the ‘great champion of Baldur’s Gate’ was. She didn’t know who her father was. And, why, was? Was her father dead? How could she not remember the death of her parent? She attempted to disguise her disturbed mind, acting as though she couldn’t be bothered to answer the questions her companions threw at her. Only Astarion remained quiet. For some reason, he had no witty remark to make. Lae’zel and Gale on the other hand, they seemed to have heard much about the one they name ‘Abdel Adrian’. Wyll shut down the questioning, reminding them that the one who he also called ‘late grand duke’ had died just a decade prior. It had mainly been Gale who was excitedly asking questions and talking about it, but he apologized awkwardly and went silent. She took advantage of the fact her father was dead to pass her silence as grief. But she didn’t remember a single thing about her life. There was no sadness in her heart. As they walked down a great flight of stairs carved directly into the stone floor, they heard more screaming. A group of tieflings refugees were getting toe-to-toe with some druids.

“You tree hugging bastard! Let my daughter go – right now.”

“She’s a thief, hellspawn. And you will wait for Kagha’s judgement. Now get back.”

“Argh! Let me through, mragreshem, or I’ll rip your damned throat out!” Her threat was not taken lightly, and one of the druids roared and turned himself into a large, brown bear. The tieflings let out gasps. They stepped back, almost losing their balances and falling over. The druid – the one who had spoken to them – had a sufficient and arrogant grin stretching her lips. The bear roared again as the party descended the stairs.

“Calm, Maggran. You – step back. We’ll not tolerate drow in here. Hurt or not.”

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be overrun by goblins by now. I’ll go where I please. I need to see Nettie.”

“Keep back. Force my hand, and I’ll show you its claws.”

A small gnome – also a druid – came up from behind her, “A moment, Jeorna.”

“What…?” She bent over as he whispered in her ear. “Why would she allow one of them? I… I suppose so, yes. You – apparently Kagha wants to see you. Go ahead. You’ll find Nettie on your way. No – only you.” she stopped the group. “Your little friends will have to wait for you. A word of warning. One wrong move and every single animal here will tear you apart.”

“Come with me, drow.” The gnome’s tone of voice translated his heavy dislike for her and her kind. She rolled her eyes, already tired of their manners. Wyll reassured her – though she was absolutely not anxious – and told her to meet him in the hollow – the cave upstairs, opposite the sacred pool – once she was done with the druids. There was apparently quite a lot he wanted to talk to her about. She sketched a smile, hoping it felt genuine and friendly. The gnome brought her before a tall, carved stone door. It slid open at their approach, and they entered the inner sanctum. The gnome told her to go down the stairs and into the main room, there she would find Kagha. He didn’t seem to care one bit about the arrow still lodged in her arm. And Phy’raena found the first druid terrorizing a little Tiefling girl. She cried, apologizing repeatedly. A snake slithered on the stone table at the center and hissed by her ear, startling her. It was a death viper. Phy’raena had milked their poison before. A single drop of it could kill that child in a heartbeat.

“This is madness, Kagha. She’s just a…”

“A what, Rath? A thief? A poison? A threat?” She snapped back at the other druid. “I will imprison the devil. And I will cast out every stranger.”

“What’s the girl’s actual crime?” Phy’raena inquired, prompting the two druids to turn around.

“Girl? You mean parasite. She eats our food, drinks our water. Then steal our most holy idol in thanks. Rath – lock her up. She remains here until the rite is complete. And keep still little devil. Teela is restless.”

Rath tried to reason with the First druid of Emerald Grove, but the elven woman wouldn’t hear it. The snake’s hiss of approval revealed its intentions. Should the child struggle, it was poised to strike. The death of a child. A timeless tragedy that never grows old. Phy’raena stared at the little tiefling. Her mind wanted the snake to kill the child. But her heart didn’t.

“Release her. I’ll see that she stays out of trouble.”

Kagha squinted her eyes. She looked down at the tiefling, “Very well – she may go. Break your word, and my serpent shall feed. Teela, to me.”

The snake slithered down a crack in the stone table and onto the floor. It circled at its mistress’ foot, letting out a last hiss at the child.

“Thank you, Kagha. Master Halsin would…”

“Halsin isn’t here. Keep his name off your tongue, lest Teela pierce it. Drow, come see me once you’ve gotten this arrow out of your arm.” She called her by the name of her race, but there was not a drop of disdain in her voice, unlike her peers outside. Rath showed her to the druid’s chambers, where she found Nettie. It was another circular room. Another gnome. She was caring for a bird and told Phy’raena to wait just a moment.

“I’ve had this arrow in my arm for over 20 minutes. Surely, I’m more important than a bird.”

“God or fieldmouse, no one’s more important than the patient in front of you. Vis medicatrix…” A light green-colored energy shone brightly around her hands. And the bird was back on its little legs. “There. It’s up to her now. Life or death. Now, what— Drow. Last time I saw one of you folk, he tried to slit me open. I hope you’re more agreeable. Come sit down. I’ll take a look at that arm. I see – a simple wooden arrow.” She grabbed an obsidian shard and widened the cut in her sleeve, to see the wound better. The shaft had already been broken off close to the wound. She took another look and went to fetch moss and a broad leave and set it aside on the table. Carefully, she eased the arrow back out the entry point. Phy’raena clenched her jaw, keeping as still as possible. She felt the arrow pulling the flesh. After being in there since the fight with the goblin, the tissue had began swelling around the arrowhead. It pressed tight around it. It stung. Her muscles tensing involuntarily around the wound as the druid pulled out the shaft. The instant it came out, blood flowed freely. Nettie had the moss ready in her other hand and instantly stuck it in the wound. She put the broad leave on it, applying pressure, and repeated the healing words she spoke for the bird. Phy’raena felt a sense of relief wash over her. No more stinging pain at all. The healing spell had closed the wound in the blink of an eye. “The moss will help the tissue heal.”

“Thank you. I had another question. Do you know anything about mindflayers?”

“…why are you asking?”

“No good way of putting this. I… uh… have a tadpole in my head. My friends too.”

She took a step back, “A tadpole? A mindflayer tadpole?”

“You know of them? Can you help me?”

“I— I’ll do what I can. Come, follow me. I might be able to help.” If this worked, she could go get the others. Nettie would help them too. She followed Nettie to a large recess in the wall – a hidden door. The silhouette of an elk in a circle carved into the wall next to it. With a wave of the hand, blue sparkles covered the secret door, and it slid open. The enclave library. Phy’raena’s gaze wandered around. It fell on the corpse of a drow on a table nearby. She stopped in her tracks. “Don’t worry about him on the table. I’m not in the habit of killing drow. He attacked Master Halsin and I in the woods, leading a pack of goblins. Tadpole crawled out of his head soon after.”

“He and I have the same kind of parasite?”

“Seems so. Gave Master Halsin a right start.” She turned her back to the drow for a second, searching for something on the table, and turned back around, a thorny branch in her hand. “It’s why he joined the adventurers on their expedition. To find out what was happening. A pity you got me instead of him. He understands these things – studied them. Still, we have options.”

“What’s that plant? Will it help me?”

She shifted uneasily, hesitating. Something’s off. Phy’raena frowned. “It might… but first things first. Tell me about your symptoms – have you noticed anything strange happening?”

“It ‘might’? What aren’t you telling me?

“I’m telling you everything you need to know. Believe me on that. I want to help you, but I can’t unless you work with me. So: has anything unusual happened to you?”

“I can merge my mind with anyone else that’s infected.”

“Victims can identify each other. Not that the others know they’re victims, of course. How’d you pick up the parasite? Halsin was desperate to find where all this was happening.”

“On a mind flayer ship – I was kidnapped and infected.”

“A mindflayer ship? But Master Halsin was sure… Look, you’ve been straight with me, so I’ll be straight with you. You’re dangerous. If you transform here, we’re all dead. But you seem like a good soul. You deserve a chance to save yourself.” She put away the thorny branch. With her other hand, she pulled out a vial. “This is a vial of wyvern poison. Swear to me you’ll swallow it if you feel any symptoms. Swear it.”

She hesitated, watching the vial, “I swear.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that but… thank you. Here.”

Phy’raena did not have any intentions of ingesting the content of the vial. Not at the moment, at least. But if she did feel herself on the verge of turning into a mindflayer, she would certainly reconsider it. She turned to the dead drow. A note was sticking out of the front pocket of his pants. She slipped it out and unfolded it. It was orders. He was to track the druid – she guessed the druid in question was that Halsin –, find the grove and report back. But he was not to engage and kill anyone, reminded he was merely a scout. A certain ‘M’ was to decide what to do next once he reported back. Phy’raena looked aside, thinking, and put it down on the table. It didn’t matter to her what had come of the druid Halsin. She turned on her heels and exited the enclave library, leaving Nettie to her affairs behind. Now, to talk with Kagha, and attempt to plead the Tieflings’ case. She found the red-haired druid standing in front of a mural. A plaque on an erected stone read: “By claw and tooth, from root to thorn, The Old Oak’s grove, to wildlings sworn.” The mural showed druids claiming the grove in the name of the Old Oak – Silvanus, God of nature.

Kagha’s voice pulled her out of her contemplation, “A deep elf – in our grove, on this day. A sign. Or rather, a gift. Who better to understand a watchful broodmother than a beloved child of Lolth?” She most likely mistook her red eye for a sign of her supposed devotion to the evil spider goddess – maybe she was one of her devotees, but in that case, she didn’t remember. She felt within her that she wasn’t.

“I have no love for the Queen of Spiders.”

“Indeed? But you do exhibit a talent for self-preservation. A viper bares her fangs defending her brood. Is it not in her nature to strike at invaders? No matter. I took back the Idol of Silvanus, and the rite has resumed. We will seal the grove. Free from harm. Free from intruders.”

She crossed her arms, “Do what you want. It’s none of my concern.”

“So you say. Yet the child walks free. You and your companions showed great mettle at the gate – the mettle of skilled swords to hire. I want you to provide your services to Zevlor. Offer to guide the outlanders out of the grove. I’m sure they’ll reward you well. They’re to be gone before final prayer. If they are not… the viper must strike.”

“Then it seems I’d best speak to Zevlor.”

“You’ll do more than speak.” She had a deep frown. “This tale ends but one way: with the outlander rot cleansed and the grove forever shrouded.”

The conversation wouldn’t go further than that. Phy’raena took a last look at the inner grove and left. There was no point in dwelling here any longer. And the other murals around the room didn’t interest her in the slightest, although they were quite nice to look at. The stone door slid open, and she walked around the sacred pool. They were still there, waiting for her on the stairs. Gale welcomed her back with a smile. The other two were eager to know what had gone down in that half an hour she was gone. She didn’t make it a secret to them that Nettie was unable to help with the parasite. She did, on the other hand, conceal the vial of wyvern venum. Looking up at the sky, she noted that the sun was getting low. As they walked up the stairs, they came across the tiefling child she had helped, being scolded by her mother. The man with them – probably the father – spoke to Phy’raena as she came by.

“Our little hellion told us what happened. Thank you – don’t know what we’d do without her.”

“This could’ve ended badly. No more light-fingered antics – right, little one?” The girl nodded to Phy’raena, embarrassed, and smiled, thanking her. They went on their way. She had to find Wyll. He seemed to know enough about her to clear away some of the shadows clouding her memory. The hollow was a vast carn with paths going left and right in a ring. The group came by the training groud. Wyll was on the stage, teaching basic fencing moves to a handful of tiefling children. A tiefling man stood near them, on the stage also. Before she could say anything, Lae’zel asked where to find Zorru. The teacher pointed to a tiefling down the path. They walked up to him.

“Are you Zorru?” Phy’raena spoke. His gaze went straight to Lae’zel – he feared her.

“B-by Mordai’s eyes, another one. My friend’s blood not enough? Come to rip me open, too?”

“In Crèche K’liir, a formal greeting begins with a bow.”

“Is this m-monster with you?” He turned to the drow.

“Yes. And I suggest you do as she says.” He obliged, too scared to oppose, and bowed. Lae’zel demanded he go lower. Phy’raena didn’t intervene and waited for him to obey. He straightened, looking at her again, but she didn’t move. He went down on his knees, lifting his hands in front of him.

“Yous aw another gith. Where?”

“On the road to Baldur’s Gate, near the mountain p-pass. Saw us ‘fore we s-saw it. Jammes its b-blade through Yul’s belly, straight to the other side.”

“No twisting? Kin must have been in a hurry. The map. Show me.” She shoved a map in his hands. He laid it on the ground and got to it. Phy’raena shared a look with the gith as she retrieved the map. She folded it and put it away in her armour. The Crèche she was looking for was west of here. “Up. You can keep your innards.”

“Oh, you’re not going to eviscerate him? I was hoping for a show.”

Lae’zel turned to Astarion, “Cool your blood – I’ll indulge you soon enough.”

Now that she was done with her little interrogation and power display, Phy’raena walked past them and headed back to the training ground. Wyll stood before a little boy, encouraging him to give him his best shot. He swinged the sword around, hitting Wyll’s. The chil leaped forward, but Wyll effortlessly dodged and tapped his sword on his back. The child was getting discouraged at his lack of skills. He cried that he wasn’t like Wyll. That wasn’t what the blade expected of him – he wanted him to be able to survive, not be like him. If he could buy himself and his friends enough time to run, he would be content. She watched him move about and talk to the children. She wondered how it could be possible for someone with a mind as twisted as hers could have ever been close to someone so righteous.

Phy’raena then asked the tiefling teacher where they could find Zevlor. He was apparently deeper in the hollow. Turning around, she saw a familiar figure. A woman she had seen before. Squinting her eyes, she stepped down the stage and walked towards her. She had seen that dark-haired woman in armor. The one she had left to die on the nautiloid and come across on the ravaged beach. She jerked to her feet upon noticing the drow standing in front of her, frowning.

“What are you doing here? Are you following me?” She hastily tucked away an ornate box – one covered in strange symbols Phy’raena didn’t understand. “If I wanted a tail, I’d kill a cat.”

“I have more important things to do than follow you – surviving, for one.” She rested her hands on her hips.

“Fair point. Survival is the crux of it, for now. I suppose you came here for the same reason I did.”

“You mean a healer?”

“Precisely. We need someone who can rid us of these things. But we’ll have no such luck in this place, from what I’ve learned of it.”

“Yes, that’s what I came to find out too. Look, we should join forces. Better odds of survival.”

“I might’ve considered it… but your choice of company so far leaves a great deal to be desired. Get rid of the gith. Then we can talk about helping each other.”

Lae’zel leaned forward, glaring at the stranger, but addressing the drow, “I offer you cleansing. You’d cast it aside for this shka’keth?”

She sighed, “Why the hells should I get rid of Lae’zel just to satisfy you?”

“Her kind can’t be trusted – they just tried to kill us aboard that ship, after all. For your sake, you ought to nip this in the bud before she turns on you.”

Phy’raena peeked at Lae’zel over her shoulder and got closer to her interlocutor, her feet a few inches from touching hers, out of the earshot, “If you play along for now, we can deal with the gith later.”

“This is a terrible idea. You know that, yes? But I suppose you may have your uses. I can keep an eye on the gith. Call me Shadowheart.”

Phy’raena, for the first tie upon meeting a new companion, introduced herself in return. A name that still meant nothing to her. But it meant something to certain people she came across. Their next destination was to find Zevlor. He was, as indicated, deeper in the hollow, in a secluded chambrer. He thanked Phy’raena for protecting the tiefling girl. But even he had understood that the druids were too far gone – it wasn’t just the goblins they would have to fear. His people were face with a difficult choice – either risk violence in the grove or face it for certain on the road. She wanted to help, but there was no other choice for them – they had to leave and Phy’raena would escort them out. He begged her to listen, telling her to turn her blade to the goblins. They were skilled fighters, and Zevlor had noticed it. They could take on the camp. They could kill the goblin camp’s leader, this mysterious ‘M’. And maybe the druids would no longer require the tielfing leave their grove. Their fate depended on the success of that mission she had been entrusted with.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (SOON)

Published (09/22/2025)

[justinewt]

Find my The witcher fic on AO3 at the link below (the chapters covering the new season will be posted in the upcoming weeks):

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[justinewt]

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

I GOT TWO TICKETS FOR MGK CARRE OR ISLE TICKETS!!!!! (like the best category possible)

THEY COST ME 212 EUROS BUT IT'S ALL WORT IT OMG

I CRIED FOR 15-20 MINUTES OUT OF PURE JOY I DIDN'T KNOW I COULD CRY OF JOY LIKE THAT OMG

ALMOST 8 YEARS I'VE BEEN THE BIGGEST FAN OF HIS AND IT'S FINALLY MY TIME MY CHANCE TO SEE HIM IN CONCERT I'M OVER THE MOON

[justinewt]

Breathe Your Last PART TWO- THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Forty-Two

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Michelle's health was worsening, and the situation with McCreary had a hand in that. And even while living hell, some of them had no idea how bad it would get.

Words: 5.8k

Warnings: The 100 season 5 spoilers (covering episodes 12 & 13 "Damocles' Sword, Parts 1 & 2"), angst, lots of angst

She woke up with a start at the loud alarm sounding throughout the valley camp and frowned as her head ached, clearing her throat, rubbing her itchy eyes and looking around as though she didn’t know where she was. She was sitting on the ground, against the table and looking up, she saw her father’s hand sticking out the edge and she slowly lifted her hand, touching the tip of his fingers. She groaned as she tried to turn around. Abby was still there, standing on the other side of the table. Michelle could see her legs from underneath.

“Can you really save him?”

There was no response for a few seconds, but Abby’s voice finally rose, “I’m doing everything I can. I promise.” She was on edge too. Michelle nodded, sniffing and wiping her nose. She then lied on the floor, stretching out her arm to grab a chair’s leg and pulled it towards her before struggling to push herself up to sit on it, but she did it, enduring the pain, to see her father. He had an oxygen mask on. She frowned in worry, holding his hand. They glanced at each other when hearing the door and Abby got some relief that help was coming, only to turn around and come face to face with Octavia. Michelle saw her face and the whole emotion on her face changed, going from this utterly sad look to pure anger. She glared at Octavia while the latter put away her sword.

“I’m not here to kill you, Abby. Or you, Michelle. I’m sorry about Kane, but it’s time to go.”

“No. I won’t leave him.” Abby answered in a heartbeat, and Michelle didn’t add anything else. She wouldn’t leave her father, and watched Octavia take a step closer. Behind her, the door creaked some more, and Michelle’s gaze softened, looking in the background, recognizing the steps. Bellamy appeared behind his sister and met Michelle’s gaze.

“Bellamy.” She muffled a cry, squinting her teary eyes. He ran towards her and kneeled before her, putting his hands on her legs, his eyes darting from one to the other.

He looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes shining with distress, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry— I should never have let you go.”

“I knew the defectors would be shot. I never knew I would be shot, but I wouldn’t have accepted to be kept from reuniting to my dad.” Her voice quivered. “You just let me choose for myself.”

“I never ordered for you to be shot.” It was probably meant to sound like an apology, but Octavia was hesitant. Michelle interpreted that as in Octavia trying to just take the blame off her.

Michelle breathed out through her nose, quietly, and stopped moving, before turning her head in her direction, “And I was shot anyway, because you gave the order for the defectors to be shot. You didn’t do THIS to me, but it still happened because of you.”

Octavia stood still, looking away for a second but Michelle’s attention shifted back to Bellamy, “Hey, hey, hey… Just look at me, okay?” He rubbed her arm and squeezed them in his hands, to calm her down.

Octavia took a step towards Abby, “We’ve been here before. This is not a choice.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So, it’s ok for me to be the monster, but not you? Is that right? Eat or die. That was you too.” Her voice was strained as she shouted.

“Yes, it was. You’re right. So, go ahead. Strike me down or get the hell out. Because I’m saving the man I love.” Still facing Octavia, she pointed at Michelle behind her. “I’m saving her father.”

Octavia looked her in the eye for a second, and spoke, poised, “I have a better idea.”

She went to call one of the grounders that stayed in the camp when the others rushed to the Elysius ship. It was waiting for the rest of them. The man came in, helped Abby and Octavia move Kane to a stretcher and Michelle watched anxiously while Bellamy put her arm around his shoulders and slipped his behind her back and under the crook of her knees to carry her, his hands grasping onto her. She held onto him tightly, gritting her teeth, pushing through the throbbing pain that got revived in her hip and leg as they headed for the ship, walking as fast as they could.

“It’s gonna be okay… Hang in there.” Bellamy repeat these words every now and then as they crossed the forest and the field to the ship, and eventually they reached their destination, met by a few people from the group, including Clarke. She gave a worried look at Michelle as she hurried beside her mother. Bellamy briefly stopped by the door, shouting and indicating the way with his head, “Get Kane onto the ship. Where are the others?” He then asked Harper, helping carry a wounded in a stretcher.

“Murphy was hit.” Michelle looked at her, her eyes not so widened but showing surprise and concern, “We didn’t have a stretcher for him, but they’re coming. They have to be.” Others followed, rushing to the ship, carrying more people in. Michelle and Bellamy stared in the distance, their eyes darting around the tree line, at the edge of the forest, holding their breath, hearing Clarke in the background, calling to Monty on the radio.

Michelle tightened her grip on Bellamy’s shoulder pad, speaking under her breath, “Come on.”

“Bellamy.” Clarke called out to him urgently.

“I’m waiting for them. Come get Michelle to safety—” He turned half-way and Michelle grabbed his chin.

“No. I’m staying with you.”

A robotic voice announced the final minute before impact. In a second, Michelle put 2 and 2 together and looked up at the mist. There was a missile that was about to drop on their heads.

“Bellamy, Michelle… We have to go.” She begged.

“Clarke, you do what you have to do. I am not leaving my friends.” There was a silence. He looked over his shoulder at Clarke. Her whole face transpired with anguish. “I can’t do that again.”

“Clarke, we need to fire the engines. Close the door or I will.” Raven’s voice spoke through the radio.

She shook her head, glancing away as she brought the radio to her mouth, “Raven, we need a little more time.”

“There is no more time.” The voice announced 30 seconds to impact. “Tell Bellamy and Michelle to get in the damn ship.” 27, 26… “Clarke, I don’t want to do this either, but I’m firing the thrusters.” But then, they heard Monty coming from the bushes and he came out holding Murphy up with Emory.

“There they are.” Bellamy exclaimed.

“They’re here.” Clarke told Raven and rushed to help them as the final ten seconds countdown started. They ran up the platform door and Michelle, still in Bellamy’s arms pulled down the lever, closing the door. Her lips parted slightly, and she widened her eyes as she watched the missile crash in the forest, the blinding light of the blast reflecting in her eyes. She closed her eyes shut, frowning at the takeoff jolts. Bellamy held her tighter, trying to keep her as stable as possible while he staggered, trying to keep himself from falling. It didn’t last long until they were floating in space. Raven said she would build a brace for her leg and hip, or even a wheelchair if she wanted. Murphy was operated on by Jackson, who managed to get the bullets out and Emory stayed by his side while he rested. And her father… he was put into a drug-induced coma, but they would never have enough drug to keep him like this forever, and it pained Michelle even more to see him like this. She had already started crying for him and grieving, and she had to watch him lie there, hooked to an oxygen mask, unresponsive, knowing what had happened, the moment always playing in her head as she watched him. If she hadn’t been paralized, she would have helped him, and maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in a coma at all. If only she hadn’t helped that grounder as they fled from Polis, she would never have been shot. As she sat on a chair, she felt the tears coming and she leaned forward, hiding her face in her hands as her body was shaken with sobs. She sniffed and let her hands fall in between her knees as she felt Bellamy’s hand on her shoulder.

He kneeled beside her, his other hand gently rubbing her back, “hey… Wanna get up?” He offered her his arm, and she nodded, holding onto it as she tried to stand up on her own. He shifted his hands to under her armpits, giving her support and accompanied her when she took a step towards her father’s face, putting his hand on her stomach and accompagning her movement while she leaned forward to put a kiss on her father’s forehead.

“I love you so much, Dad. I’m sorry.” She whispered, speaking only to be heard by her father and Bellamy, before leaving the medbay with him. It took a while to get in the corridors, but he never complained or urged her, encouraging her and giving her all the support she needed to hop one step after the other while dragging her bad leg behind her. It was beyond painful, but she refused to be carried all the time, only did she give in to Bellamy’s offer when they passed the threshold and she was already exhausted by the effort, so she let him carry her to the bridge room. And there they stood, Bellamy, Michelle, Clarke, Monty and Harper, in front of the window looking down on a scorched Earth, Raven and Shaw at the control desk, and a bunch of other people sitting here and there.

“It’s gone, guys.” Bellamy said, gravely, setting Michelle down in an armchair right next to the one Murphy was sitting in. The two exchanged a glance and nodded at each other. They both were relieved to see the other somewhat well. She knew Murphy didn’t dare ask if she was okay or whatever question along those lines. She also knew how he was one of the most adamant to tend to her when they were hiding in that cave and she sketched a smile.

“You okay?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah. Never been better.” He looked jaded and sounded like he didn’t dare ask the same in return, knowing well of her condition.

She softly pushed his shoulder with her fist, “It’s okay you can ask me.” She tried to keep a light tone, even though she just wanted to scream and cry deep down, and he probably knew that too.

“Are you okay?”

“All things considered… I’m okay. Thank you.” He seemed confused as to why she was thanking him. “Back at the cave—” She cut herself off when Bellamy spoke again.

“Close it up, Shaw.” He then turned to everyone, arms crossed, “Like our ancestors on the Ark, we’re the last of the human race.”

“Our ancestors were wrong. We’re not.” Clarke added. “412 people on this ship. Thanks to Madi, we saved who could be saved. Now it’s our job to keep them alive.”

“How do we do that?” Monty came forward with his algae and Murphy instantly swore, asking to get floated already, bringing an amused grin on Bellamy and Michelle’s lips.

Shaw raised his index finger, “Can I...?” Bellamy nodded. “From what we know about the half-life of hythylodium, it’ll be at least 10 years before that valley comes back. This ship does have a small water recycler and a few weeks’ worth of rations, but that’s it. Cryo is the only option. There are 500 pods, which is more than enough for what we need.”

“I agree with Shaw. The tech is amazing.” Raven had a bright smile. “We go to sleep, we don’t age, we wake the next morning, it’s 10 years later. And Bob’s your uncle.”

“I thought you hated that phrase.” Monty noted.

“It’s growing on me.”

Bellamy continued, “It’s up to you, Madi.”

She hesitated, looked at Clarke, who gave her a nod, and uncrossed her arms, “Okay. I guess it’s time for bed.”

As everyone migrated to the pods on the other side of the ship, Michelle sat there, staring into space, lost in her thoughts. She had heard her father had been put in cryo too but she knew he would never be the same anymore. She wished Abby would just let him go in peace, and that didn’t mean she didn’t wish just as bad to see him alive and well again, but she understood it wasn’t doing anything good to keep him like this. Her eyes detached from the void and glanced at her paralyzed leg, stretched out. She would go to sleep too and wake up with her body in the same miserable condition. She was torn.

At the same time, she was hopeful that things would turn out okay, they would really be able to go back to the ground, she would have her friends, Bellamy, the love of her life, and maybe her dad would recover, but given their previous experiences, a part of her thought about the more realistic option that Earth would never be habitable enough for them to start building again and live full lives. The whole planet had still not recovered from Praimfaya. The valley would never fully recover from such destruction. And the unknown made her scared. Especially knowing she would have to live through it, no matter what it would be, with only one leg, and using either crutches or a wheelchair 24/7. She wanted to run, crouch, jump, do all the things she could do before, and didn’t accept that she would never do any of those things ever again. That would never be the life she wanted, without the insurance that they would be able to settle down somewhere and live in peace. That was too utopic anyway.

“Ready?” Bellamy kneeled before her, his hands on her knees, caressing her leg with his thumb.

She smiled faintly, “I just need a minute alone. Go take care of the others. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” He stood up, gave her a kiss and left the room with the others.

When she thought she was all alone and broke into tears, she heard Murphy’s voice behind her and stopped abruptly, looking over her shoulder, “You don’t want to go into cryo, am I wrong?” She stayed quiet. “Okay. Well, since I’ll never see you again, let me have a seat.”

“I wanted to thank you earlier, for what you did for me back in the cave.”

“You’re welcome.” He said softly.

“Thank you, too.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you were always the only one on my side when everyone hated me. When I was hanged and cast out, even after I screwed everything, tried to get Bellamy to hang himself in the dropship to get revenge, when I was pushing Emory away after we left the ground, isolating myself, you were there for me. I tried to push you away too, but you told me to shut up, or something like that, and you stayed. I didn’t deserve it.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “So thank you. See you in 10 years?”

She chuckled, her eyes filling with tears, “See you in 10 years, John.” She went to stand up on her good leg and he rushed to help her. They shared a heartfelt hug. The two of them had so much history, beyond the brief romantic relationship they were once in. The relationship they had had for years now was so much more than that. They trusted and cared for each other deeply. In the last 6 years, Michelle had found herself feeling much closer to him than to Clarke, who was like her sister. He helped her sit back down and left.

Not long after, Bellamy walked in and sat in the armchair next to her, “Everyone’s in cryo. You ready?”

“Bellamy…” She avoided his gaze, having trouble speaking her mind.

He took her face in his hands, frowning in worry, “What? What is it?”

“I don’t want to go into cryo.” She looked back at him, shaking his head. “But you, you can go. I’ll wake you guys up in 10 years—”

“I won’t leave you alone for 10 years. If you stay awake, I’ll stay awake with you, and we’ll wake them up together.”

They rested their gazes on each other’s face, grasping onto each other’s arms.

“I love you, Bellamy.”

“I love you too, Michelle.” He brought her closer to him to place a sweet kiss on her lips.

He was and always would be the love of her life.

The lid of the pod lifted, and Bellamy blinked, frowning in confusion as he was woken up from cryo-sleep. The first thing he saw was Clarke’s face looking down at him.

“Hey.” She spoke quietly and could tell by his frown and the strange expression on his face that led her to wonder why he seemed so upset about waking up. And for some reason, she thought he looked somehow different, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint why because he basically looked the same as she remembered, though she didn’t remember the little crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes or the slightly deeper smile lines and the ones on his forehead . He replied, without much conviction and groaned, leaning on his elbows to help himself sit up. Observing the rest of the pods, he noticed how they were still all closed.

“Why is it just us?”

“That’s the way mom and dad wanted it.” A young man’s voice rose behind Clarke and the latter stood next to the doors, his hands on his hips. Bellamy and Clarke exchanged a confused glance, and he got on his feet as they stared at him. “Uh… can I just say, wow. I mean, I can’t tell you how good it is to finally meet you. Weird but good. Great, actually. Ari’s—” He cut himself off as he turned half-way, pointing beside him but there was no one with him. He kept his lips parted and was at a loss for words.

“Who are you? Who’s Arise?” Clarke asked.

“No, Ari, not Arise. I mean, her name’s Aurora but we always called her just Ari. And uh, my name. Right. I didn’t tell you, my name. Sorry. I’ve never met anyone before, so I clearly suck at it. I’m Jordan, Monty and Harper’s son.”

“Wait, they didn’t go to sleep?” Clarke was stunned upon hearing this and turned to Bellamy, who just stared at Jordan, still with this indescribable look on his face but she recognized the lack of shock and surprise on his face after the young man introduced himself, and he didn’t ask about the girl he mentioned either, so she frowned and turned back to the one that woke them up.

“They talked about your time on the ring a lot. Too much, actually. How happy they were there. I guess they wanted to get back to that.”

“Okay, who’s Aurora, and why am I the only one of us that’s shocked by this?” Clarke demanded him to give her some explanation.

Jordan and Bellamy stared at each other, but the latter looked down as Monty and Harper’s son spoke, “Because Aurora is Michelle and Bellamy’s daughter.”

“What?” That was the only word that managed to come out of Clarke’s mouth. She was bewildered. She watched as no one replied. Jordan chuckled nervously, while Bellamy’s eyes fought back tears, his eyes shining under the neon lights, but he kept his face as straight as possible. “Bellamy, what happened? Where’s—” She stopped and turn around, taking a peek at all the pods around theirs, checking the names and stats on the screen, Octavia was nearby, Madi too, she found Murphy and Emory as well and she froze in front of one that had remained empty. The pod was still waiting to be activated, and her eyes were stuck on the name on the screen. The pod had been intended for Michelle and Clarke came to realize that she had never used it.

“Clarke.” His voice didn’t break, but it betrayed the emotion that was overtaking him as a tear rolled down his cheek.

She took the deepest breath she could and faced him, her eyebrows raised, and eyes widened as she kept herself from tearing up, “Bellamy. Where’s Michelle?”

He squinted his eyes, brows pulled together, slowly shaking his head side to side, and in that moment, the strange upsetty look he had when he woke up started to make sense, “She’s gone.”

She had her eyes glued to him, her heart skipped a beat and she couldn’t move her body.

“I’ll, uh, leave you alone for a moment. Come to the bridge when you’re ready. Dad left specific instructions. Wake Clarke and Bellamy first. Play them the message.” He turned around and walked away, pinching his lips.

Clarke sniffed, cleared her throat and took a step in the same direction, “Hey, wait. How long were we asleep?”

“125 years.”

“How are we gonna name her?”

“Aurora.” Michelle smiled, looking down at her pregnant belly.

Bellamy caressed her cheek and hair, “Aurora? My mom’s name?”

“Yeah. It’s a pretty name.”

“I love you so much.” They had the broadest smiles on their faces, and enamouradly stared at each other. There was so much pure joy transpiring from them. They shared a tender kiss and froze on the screen as Aurora pressed pause and rewinded the video. She was curled up on a chair, her arms wrapped around her legs and her head buried against her knees. Her eyes shifted to a darker part of the screen where she saw Jordan’s reflection.

“They’re awake. They’ll be there any minute.”

She buried her face deeper, looking away after instantly stopping the video that started to play on the screen. It wasn’t the same. Neither Bellamy nor Michelle were anywhere to be seen, only Monty and Harper, eyes bloodshot and just red all around, still sniffing and wiping their cheek. She knew what that video was. And she didn’t want to watch it. Ever. She sighed, stood up, pushing the chair back. The feet creaked against the floor. She leaned forward, closing the video currently on the screen.

She took a deep breath in, and breathed out, shaking her hands as if she was shaking dust off them and turned around. She was nervous but so happy to reunite with her dad. She had been more or less 19 years old for the past 106 years. It was hard to realize that they had been asleep for so long when she remembered putting her dad and then herself into cryo like it happened yesterday. Jordan came to stand next to her and she crossed her arms until they saw Bellamy and Clarke walk in. Her arms fell back to the sides of her body. They locked eyes and while he quickened his pace, she walked to meet him half-way. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, one hand at the back of her head. They had their eyes closed, gripping onto each other, sharing a heartfelt embrace.

“So you’re Aurora?” Clarke spoke after a moment, smiling softly. “You’re wearing her jacket.”

“Yeah.” The girl took a step back after they broke their hug and looked down, brushing over the US Army patches with her fingers. “You’re Clarke. Wow. I remember hearing about you growing up. It’s kinda weird but cool.”

“It’s a little bittersweet but, nice to meet you.” They shared a smile.

“You must have questions. Come on.” She motioned for them to approach the console and turn on the video she was watching a moment prior, of Bellamy and Michelle, and Clarke put her arms around her stomach, holding her sides. The video then paused as on-screen Bellamy stretched his arm to stop the recording.

“She was already pregnant when we went back to the ground. She didn’t even know until she was half-way through.” Bellamy’s eyes were glued to Michelle’s face, never blinking or looking away. He dreaded having to stop looking at her.

“Bellamy.” Clarke’s voice was soft.

Jordan started another video.

“Hey, guys, it’s been about a year since you all went to bed.” Monty’s eyes drifted to the side, with a heavy sigh. “I wish I could say there’s not much to report, just that my algae farm is awesome, it’s no surprise really, but… Oh, I’m able to monitor conditions on the ground using the ship’s geologic equipment, so, I’ll know when it’s safe for us to go back down. Gets a little lonely sometimes without the rest of you, and, well, I guess I gotta address the elephant in the room…” He pressed his lips, his eyes drifting again as he went silent for a second. He swiftly sniffed and wiped his nose and eye. “Okay, uh, it’s been, like, a month and a half, two months, since… since Michelle died giving birth. I never thought— I never thought someone like her could ever die.” He chuckled, smiling sadly. “It’s been hard, really hard, but obviously, it’s Bellamy that’s suffering the most. He hasn’t come out of his room since her funeral. We laid her down in the airlock, and floated her.” He bursted into tears and just sobbed for a whole minute before their eyes. “He’s been, just, inconsolable. Harper and I are helping with little Aurora, and when he’s ready, he will be the best dad. I just know it. I guess, at least Michelle can rest with her mother now. We never spoke about it but, I know it was a wound that she never healed from... Okay—” He stretched out his arm and cut the recording as he cleared his throat.

In a brief recording that followed, Monty said Bellamy had gotten out of his room, then precising it had taken him a little over 3 months. Then another showed Monty standing next to a very pregnant Harper, “Hey, again. Today’s the two-year anniversary of the long nap. Harper’s been eating a little too much algae.”

“Hilarious.” She turned her face to the camera. “Hey, guys, um, surprise. We picked a name today. Boy or girl… Jordan.”

“I think Jasper would like that. Anyway, still no sign the ground is coming back. I wouldn’t expect it this soon, so, I’m not worried. We’ll check back in next time there’s news.”

“Oh, and Aurora’s walking and running around now. It’s keeping Bellamy busy.” They chuckled.

Aurora felt her father’s arm resting around her shoulder. The next video showed newborn Jordan. He was held up to the camera by Monty who appeared on screen, holding him. “That’s all for now. Harper’s resting. We’re both good, though. Oh, shh-shhh. He’ll be 8 when you meet him, and Aurora, almost 10, I think. I can’t wait to see your faces.”

“As Bellamy and Ari know, things didn’t go as planned.” Jordan said.

“Happy wake-up day.” Monty carried the camera around, filming his face. “And since you’re watching this sometime in the future, you know now that… that I didn’t wake you up. That’s because there’s still nothing down there. I’m working the problem.” He looked at something out of frame and lowered his voice. “I’ve told Harper and Bellamy it’s to be expected, but, um… well, that’s a lie. This is gonna take a while. I, uh, I had discussed this with Michelle back when… back when she was here and, she already thought the ground would never recover. She confessed to me that she never had any hopes for a new life on the ground… She just wanted to live out her days on this ship, and she did, so… I needed to say this on here because I’m not too sure how to tell Bellamy. I don’t want him to get even more depressed. He’s been doing good. He’s just like I expected, a great dad. Aurora and Jordan are doing great too. They’re happy kids. They know all about you guys. Bellamy’s spent the last decade telling Ari the mythological Roman stories he grew up on. And a few years ago, Jordan started to want to listen to them before bed too.” He laughed. “Also, believe it or not, Murphy’s their favorite.”

“It was, a rebellious phase.”

“Speak for yourself.” She giggled. “He’s still my favorite. I remember when hearing about how my mom got so sarcastic and stuff because she spent too much time with him.”

Monty continued, “Anyway, it’s gonna be a while. I’ll let you know if things change.” He didn’t cut the video right there and then and pinched his lips, smirking, glancing to his right, lowering his voice before cutting, “I think Jordan has a little crush on Ari too. We’ll see.”

They both looked away instantly while Bellamy and Clarke glanced at each other upon hearing this. Aurora crossed her arms and sighed through her nose, onoly looking back at the screen when it moved on to another video. Monty was much older, and she didn’t remember that one. This video had been taken 19 years after the first one.

“Hey guys, it’s been a long time since we recoded one of these. Things have been a little… complicated. Tensed, even. Aurora put herself in cryo yesterday, and Bellamy followed her.”

“I’m not mad at her but, she wasn’t a very easy teenager.”

“Jordan has been quite sad lately. They were together for a while but got into a fight last year. He won’t talk about it but I think it was because she was already talking about going to cryo. She was complaining about being stuck in space and didn’t understand what the point was if they would never go to the ground.”

Clarke stared at Bellamy, now understanding why, even though he looked how she remembered, there was a different feel to his face. He had gotten older, more mature, but she would never have guessed he was almost 20 years older. He felt her gaze and looked back at her.

“How old are you, Bellamy?”

He stayed silent for a second, most likely trying to remember his own age, “48.”

She was just astonished. Now that she observed his face a little more, she knew the deeper smile lines, the small crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes and the couple of lines on his forehead were because he had aged, and he did look somewhat older but still, he looked at most 10 years older.

Jordan played the next recording, dating a few years after the one they had just watched, “We just put Jordan in cryo. He’s a good boy.”

“Smart like his father.”

“And kind like his mom. We chose this life. He didn’t. And he felt, alone, without Ari.” He took a breath and put a smile on his face, getting closer to the camera. “Hey. If you’re watching this, kiddo. We love you so much. Did you follow my instructions?” Aurora peeked at him, discreetly through the corner of her eyes. She uncrossed one arm but ended up briefly closing her hand into a fist and crossed her arms again. “Assuming he did… Hey, Bellamy, hey, Clarke. We wanted him to wake you first so we could talk. Earth… isn’t coming back. You’ve been asleep for over 25 years, and it’s as dead as the day we left. I’m working on a plan “b”, though. If you’re awake, that means I found it. I’ll see you again when I do.”

“Wait. Not yet.” She stopped him from stopping the recording and took a deep breath. “Take care of our boy… Please, Ari, make up with him. It’s all he’s ever wanted since you two fought.”

The young woman stared into space, scratching her face as it went onto the final video. Monty had a head full of white hair and sat down very slowly. He was alone, and the time stamp on the bottom right corner showed that 50 years separated it from the very first video.

“Jordan… your mother died today.” Aurora turned her face to Jordan, as he watched his father with sad eyes. She knew exactly how he must feel. She felt the same way.

“She was pretty sick the last few years. Clarke, you were right. Her dad’s genetic condition finally got her.” Clarke shed a tear, in shock, and Bellamy shook his head around, wiping his eye with the palm of his hand before putting his arm back on his daughter. “We had a good life. Sometimes… I know she wanted to be with you guys. Maybe I did, too. But if we did that… I wouldn’t be able to show you this. Son.” He stepped forward and activate something on the control panel. The blind slid up, showing a new planet. Clarke and Bellamy walked up to the window as the blind lifted, looking out in bewilderment. A brand-new planet, with two suns. “It took me 30 years, but I finally cracked the Eligius 3 mission file. Turns out it wasn’t a mining mission. After sucking the earth dry of oil, they went looking for another planet to tap.”

Ari diverted her eyes to the window when Jordan looked at her.

 “I set the coordinates a week ago. If I’m right, you should get there in… 75 years. I’m tempted to put myself in cryo to see it, but without Harper… Anyway, it’s in the Goldilocks zone of a binary star system. But that’s all I know. Eligius 3 never radioed back or, if they did, it was after apocalypse one, so no one heard it. Can you see it? Is it beautiful? It is in my dreams. I hope we do better there. I hope Jasper was wrong and we aren’t the problem.” They could see Bellamy tilt his head forward and Clarke standing still but couldn’t see their faces as they had their back turned to them. “I hope your lives there will be as happy as mine has been. Be the good guys. May we meet again.”

They could be heard whispering shakily before putting their arms across the other’s back, holding each other. Ari glanced at Jordan. He had his arms crossed over his chest and stared in the distance. She took a few quiet steps closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder, keeping her eyes on the planet before their eyes as he looked at her, surprised by her gesture.

[To be continued…]  

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Published (08/25/2025) by Andrea

Taglist: @mirellef2001

[justinewt]

Breathe Your Last PART ONE - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Forty-One

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Michelle's health was worsening, and the situation with McCreary had a hand in that. And even while living hell, some of them had no idea how bad it would get.

Words: 6k

Warnings: The 100 season 5 spoilers (covering episode 11 "The Dark Year", & episodes 12 & 13 "Damocles' Sword, Parts 1 & 2"), angst, lots of angst

The next 5 days were pure hell for Michelle, but that was to be expected.

The first day was bad, but it was a mere taste of what was to follow. Her severe pain was the same as when the morphine would wear off in camp, the saline bag she had been left hooked onto was empty, so they took it off but left the catheter to avoid another infection. Unable to stand or sit up, but she wasn’t expecting to manage that anyway, and grew beyond frustrated. She couldn’t focus on what was happening around her, not even speaking a word the whole day, so exhausted and dizzy. Her father held her hand, trying to calm her down, talking to her. After Emori had spoken of her knowledge of nature, they had sent her to try to find anything that could help Michelle and bring her some relief, and she came back as night was falling with a bunch of plants and leaves.

“I can brew some willow bark tea.” Kane revived the small fire next to which Michelle was lying down, and she got to it. “It tastes awful, but that’s all we have.” She slowly poured it in her mouth, with Kane and Murphy holding her head slightly upwards and supporting her shoulders.

It did provide a mild relief, making her feel a little better for a small part of the night, reducing her shivering during the night, and helping her sleep for the next few hours but the pain returned quickly, and as sharp as ever, and on the second day, she woke up with a rising fever, and excessive sweating, prompting them to pour water on her head but she was burning up. She wouldn’t even manage to eat anything they gave her without throwing it up almost immediately after, only sipping some water throughout the day, not making up for the water she was losing each time she vomited. She was getting increasingly dehydrated. Emory brewed the rest of the willow bark that she had gathered, a smaller dose than the previous night, and gave it to her. She winced at the taste but drank. Diyoza sat back, observing the girl, while Murphy snapped at Echo for moving her too roughly, though obviously not on purpose and they wouldn’t have stopped bickering and fighting over it if Kane didn’t intervene.

On the third day, the fever seemed to stabilize a little with the reccurent wetting of her face, and willow bark tea and other plants Emory helped her chew, but her hip had swollen a lot, and as none of them were a doctor, they didn’t notice the infection settling in, they couldn’t feel the throbbing pain either, but they could see how quiet Michelle was, how glassy her eyes were and how she was only ever half lucid, only moving when wanting to throw up, even when they hadn’t given her anything but water and a biscuit, and simply twisting to the side to throw up left her in utter agony, her father covering her mouth a little so as not to let her screams betray their location, in case McCreary was looking for them. Raven and Shaw muttered the thought of having to go back to get her antibiotics or any medication they could get their hands on, but it didn’t go anywhere. The situation was so risky. And when anyone told Murphy he could go in the forest with Emory to look for plants for Michelle, he glared at them, and remained seated by Michelle side, though he had gone with Emory a couple times since they hid in this cave.

On the fourth day, the infection had progressed further, the fever was higher, and even a damp cloth or drenching her face with water didn’t do anything about it, and despite the fact they gave her some to drink regularly, she was still always throwing up, not eating either, so she was very much dehydrated and starving at that point, her skin sickly pale, her lips dry, and her breathing shallower and faster. They were beyond concerned as she also suffered from hallucinations, crying and calling out for Bellamy in her fever dreams, and even for her mother at some point, bringing tears to Kane’s eyes. She also called out to him.Dioyza stood in the back, watching the girl from a distance, a slight frown betrayed her worry.

“Kane.” She relaxed her eyebrows, waiting for him as he looked up at her and came in her direction, leaving Murphy – who was cursing McCreary, Octavia, and anyone and everyone responsible – and Emory and Echo giving her some brewed concoction. Emory had to quietly defuse tensions as Murphy wanted Echo to hold Michelle’s head with both hands and ended up doing it himself. Kane rubbed his short beard, looking back at his daughter, bags under his eyes, putting his hands on his hips, “We need to go back. She needs Abby to treat her, or she’s going to die.” He had his eyes glued on his little girl so she took a step towards him, grabbing his shoulders and he finally met her gaze.

“I know. I know… We need a plan. We aren’t even sure McCreary will let her live when we bring her in.”

“Her life is at risk, here, or there. We’ll find a plan, and then we go.” He nodded and walked back to his daughter after a second just standing there.

On the fifth day, Raven had managed to fix a radio and an antenna that they aimed towards Polis, and they realized McCreary wasn’t even looking for them anymore. He knew Wonkru was coming, and it was a massacre waiting to happen. And the fact that Michelle’s fever had gone through the roof, if it ever wasn’t before, and Michelle was confused, straight up delirious as she kept on calling out to Bellamy or her mom, or her dad, but only one was actually present, and her heart beating quicker, excessively sweating despite the chills, and at this point they saw the purulent discharge coming through the fabric of her pants, from the wound. They attempted to clean it as best they could with some filtrated water but knew it wouldn’t be enough. Again, Diyoza told Kane that Michelle would not survive another day without medical care. They had to leave that day, or it would be too late. She wasn’t even half-conscious but when she heard Echo speak Bellamy’s name, she reacted instantly and weakly called out his name, her eyes barely open, not registering any words they said to each other, or that they were even speaking in trig.

The others listened, as Bellamy asked, “Why are we speaking Trig? What’s wrong?”

“They know you’re coming. You’ve lost the element of surprise.”

“Echo, listen—”

Harper spoke next to him, and was heard over the radio, “Bellamy, if Clarke’s on their side, she speaks Trig, too.” Michelle moaned in pain in the background, mumbling Bellamy’s name after hearing it again, sobbing. Kane softly shushed her, moving the wet cloth on her forehead, caressing her face with tip of his fingers, trying to calm her down.

Murphy frowned, “Clarke’s on their side? What does that mean?”

“It means we have to make this fast.” Echo then resumed in Trig. “Bellamy, you have to go back. We have their pilot, so you’re safe for now. But you can’t come here.”

“Not possible. It’s a long story, but we can’t go back. We’re five days out. You have to find us a safe way in. After that, we run out of rations.”

“We’re on it. Be safe.”

Michelle cried out, raising her voice as she called out to him, and as Echo was about to put down the radio, his voice came back on, hesitant, “Michelle?”

“Bellamy, she—” Echo shook her head, looking at Michelle, pressing her lips with a sigh through her nose. She couldn’t straight up tell him. It would be too much.

“What? What’s going on? Is she okay? Let me talk to her. Echo—”

“Bellamy, she can’t talk.” She retorted before he even finished speaking. There was a brief silence, as if he was assessing her words.

“What do you mean she can’t talk?”

Echo sighed heavily again, parting her lips but then pressing them shut a couple times, and Bellamy insisted, so Murphy came forward and took the radio from the former spy’s hands, his voice sharp and accusatory, “Michelle was shot because of your fucking sister. Because she was shot in the hip, Abby couldn’t even take out the bullet so now she’s just paralyzed. She can’t even sit or do anything. She doesn’t eat and just fucking throws up every chance she gets. So just get here already, before she dies on us.” He dropped the radio and snapped at Raven when she told him to be careful with it. Echo then ordered for other grounders hiding out with them to go scout and she got the others to go with her.

Before leaving, Murphy looked down at Michelle, “Don’t you dare die on me. Don’t you fucking dare.” He took a second, and followed Echo outside, making a sarcastic comment about how he never gets the gun when Echo asked Kane for his.

Bellamy’s voice didn’t come back on the radio, probably more than disturbed and shaken by what he had just been told, and Kane rubbed his face, covering his mouth with his hand, tears streaming down his cheeks. Michelle would die if they didn’t bring her back today.

Kane and Diyoza talked, strategized, but ultimately, they would have to go back, or Michelle would die, and that wasn’t even an option for Kane. They waited for Echo and the others to come back, as they couldn’t just leave without anyone knowing where they’d gone to. They would go back and strike a deal with McCreary. Kane was convinced that if Abby knew of Michelle’s condition, she would never agree to keep treating McCreary’s people, unless she was allowed to treat her. And he hoped, that if Clarke had heard their discussion, she would back their request. Unless she had turned on them so much that she was ready to let her childhood best friend, the one girl who was like a sister to her, die.

Michelle fell unconscious the moment they lifted her and didn’t come back to, not even once, for the next couple of hours of walking to camp. Once they got there, men aimed their guns at them. They were brought to the transport ship and came face to face with McCreary.

“The baby?”

“The baby’s fine.” Diyoza replied, holding his gaze.

“Good.”

“How’s your neck?” The quickness and sharpness with which she shot the question at him made it clear she wasn’t asking out of concern, rather tauting him about the wound on his neck.

“Fine.” He glanced at the both of them and a panting, still unconscious, Michelle. “You have two seconds to explain yourselvres, and tell me why you’re turning yourselves in.”

“That’s all I need. The girl needs medical attention.”

He cut her off, she was clearly not done talking, “Why would I care? I don’t even know her.” He took a step closer to Diyoza, “Do you really care so much about her that you’d turn yourself in?”

“She’s my daughter. She was shot because of Octavia.” McCreary tilted his head, shifting his gaze to Kane, his curiosity triggered upon hearing Octavia’s name.

“Wonkru knows you have my battle plans.” Diyoza spoke. “They know every move you’re gonna make.”

“In other words, you’re gonna lose this war. Or you can get those guns off us, and we’ll tell you how to win it.”

“And you would tell me that just because Octavia got your kid shot?”

“For the most part.” He paused, staring back at him. “But also, because I won’t let the devil in this garden.”

He looked at them intently and then gave the men behind them a sharp nod, “Get the girl to Abby.” And he turned around, leading them away. Kane peeked over his shoulder, worriedly, as they carried Michelle out of the ship. At last she would get treatment, but deep down, he was still freaking out about the possibility of her succumbing to the infection and her injuries.

The men pushed the door open with their shoulders and marched inside. Michelle had woken up and blacked out again from the pain and they put her on the table under Clarke and Abby’s baffled gazes. She was in a much poorer condition than the last time Abby saw her, and given how the last time Clarke saw her, Michelle was much livelier and able to move and stand, and run, it was a shocker to see what she had heard over the radio, with her own eyes. While Abby rushed to check her vitals, Clarke stood by her side.

“Michelle? Oh my god.”

“That’s Michelle?” Madi inquired quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyebrows raised in shock. The stories she had heard about Michelle hadn’t prepared her to see her like this for their first encounter. She was barely responsive, heat radiating from her, sweat beading all over her face despite the cool ambient temperature, and looked half-dead, her skin having a weird greyish tint.

“She’s going septic.”

“Help me roll her on her stomach.” Clarke did as asked. “Okay, check the wound. I’ll start the IV saline.”

Abby urgently dragged the IV stand closer and got the saline solution bag hanging, placing the catheter and connecting the two, while Clarke pulled down her pants, getting Madi to give her a sheet to cover Michelle a little. The wound was nasty. Redness spreading, her whole hip swollen, warm, and pus coming out the stitches. The infection was horrific. Abby injected a dose of morphine into the IV and came to assist Clarke.

“The bullet’s still inside?”

“I couldn’t take it out without risking even more damages.”

“She’ll die if we leave the bullet in there. We need to extract it to prevent septicemia.” She was raising her voice.

“If we operate and she bleeds out, then what?” Abby stopped, having a realization. “We need Marcus. He’s the same bloodtype. He must still be speaking with McCreary.”

“I’ll go get him.” Clarke rushed outside. While the latter was gone, Abby monitored Michelle’s vitals on the screen, tried talking to her but she was still unresponsive, and had Madi help prepare boiling water, clean cloth and cleaning surgical tool. The only times Michelle made noise was either because of the pain, or mumbling Bellamy’s name, crying out for him and her parents, which broke her heart. That was the daughter of her best friend and of her lover, she couldn’t believe she would have been okay with letting her die because of her addiction, because in all honesty, she would never have forgiven herself, and Kane, or even Bellamy, would never have forgiven her.

“Don’t worry.” She whispered, fighting tears, forcing her voice to remain calm. “Your father will be here soon.”

Clarke came back with him over a dozen minutes later and they didn’t waste more time and got to it. He stood there, his arm stretched out, his blood filling the tube and going into Michelle while Clarke and Abby cut the stiches opened and used the scalpel to cut through her skin, maintaining the cut open with the surgical retractors, pulling back the edges and exposed the bone surface carefully. The bone was shattered and the bullet very much embedded in it, so Clarke grabbed a chisel. It would risk further bone damage, but they had to dislodge it, and they would carefully pack the wound once they were done. A couple hits got the bullet popping out and she pulled it out. Abby kept on clearing the wound with saline solution and apply pressure, controlling the bloodloss, and put the bullet on the table after Clarke gave it to her. She took some fragments out. They plunged their hands in the water, their fingers covered in blood, and then packed the wound with tight sterile gauze, before Clarke sutured the muscle layers, and skin, carefully. She let out the biggest sigh of relief known to man and they took the tube and needles connecting Kane and Michelle out.

“She’ll be okay.” Kane’s eyes were wet and shiny as he looked at Clarke and nodded. She had a concerned frown on her face, and tried to to sound sure of what she was saying, while dressing her wound, and helping her mother gently turning Michelle on her back. All three of them then carried her to the bed because Abby now had to keep on treating McCreary’s men, and from then on, Michelle would no longer move around, just rest, and she did just that, except for when having to relieve herself, which was beyond difficult, not only because of the unbearable pain but also because she had trouble not finding the whole process quite humiliating but Abby, putting on her mother cap, reminded her that she used to assist her mom, often changing her diapers and already helping her in such a way when she was an infant, and after that talk, the pain was the only thing she complained and cried about.

One time, when her father came by, as he did multiple times a day, Abby spoke of the higher chances of the fever coming back on the second and third day, so they doubled vigilance. They had already been checking her vitals every second of every day, keeping her hooked to the saline solution to rehydrate her, giving her very small amount of food, mostly broth, due to the nausea and vomiting she still suffered from. But Michelle was lucky, and the next two days went fine, considering what she had been through. When it wasn’t the pain that brought her to tears and made her get frustrated and snappy, she would break down over the weakness and heaviness in her legs, and how it freaked her out how she could only feel one of them now. She would stare at her feet, trying to move her toes, and only one side reacted, and she would just lose it.

But they couldn’t understand why the vomiting was still so present over three days after the surgery. There was no fever anymore, no infection, nothing and Abby was not giving her enough morphine for it to affect her like that as she had greatly reduced the doses since she first arrived in the Shallow Valley camp right after being shot. She was giving a very small amount, to avoid Michelle developing an addiction, like she herself did with her pills. Michelle was bedrest, the curtains pulled in front of the bed to separate her from the rest of the room every time Abby had to treat one of McCreary’s men. She spent her time napping, or listening with one ear, following the seams of the US Army patches on her jacket. Her mother had given her that jacket as a child. It belonged to her great-great-grandpa. An hawaïan man who married a Chinese immigrant. He owned that jacket then, and it had been passed down to the sons that came after him, eventually ending up in her mother’s hand, and now in hers. How old this jacket was truly blowing her mind, and in all honesty, it was the one thing that kept her busy, thinking about her family history, retelling it to herself in thoughts and whispers. Their memory, their names, their lives, and what her mom had told her about them, kept her from spiralling. In a way, it kept her alive, just as she was keeping them alive.

Every day, everytime her father came in when there were no patients, she would ask him about trying to reach out to Bellamy. She had been told about how Murphy bluntly told him how she was doing, and she knew how shaken and upsetting this might have been for Bellamy o have all that awful information thrown in his face over the radio, all while having to risk his life walking and fighting for almost a week to get here. She knew he would tell her that risking his life didn’t matter, and all that mattered to him was her, that he would risk his life everyday for her, but she only thought about him, and his safety, and it made her sick. She blamed this severe anxiety, and the pain, for the stomach cramps she had been experiencing, and the vomiting still happening a few times a day. The talks with her father were also something that helped distracting her, and she clinged onto those moments with him, always holding his hand and dreading the moment he had to walk out that door again. She always had her jacket in her hands, so they talked about it. He let her go on and on about everything she knew of her ancestors, and she knew a lot, but she also made it known she wanted to hear about her paternal grandmother.

“I grew up thinking I only had my mom, and Clarke and her family, but not really my family. Mom’s parents died when I was so young that, I don’t remember them. I wish I’d known that “the lady with the tree” was my grandma. She was a little weird with her tree, but she was nice. I remember thinking it was strange that someone I barely knew was so kind to me, I mean, she was kind to everyone, but I felt something different with our interactions, compared to her interactions with others.”

“I think my mother knew, before I ever did, that Callie’s child was mine. That you were my child. She once told me there was something that made her think of me when she looked at you.” A tender smile lifted the corners of his lips as he looked down for a moment. “She would say that you’re so pretty, looking so much like your mother, but that your face shape, and certain details about you, reminded her of me at your age. I would just shake it off. I think I didn’t want to think Callie could have had my child and keep it from me, and we weren’t on the best terms. We weren’t on good terms at all, and it was my fault, but when we found out she was pregnant, I don’t recall how far along she was, I was just angry. I thought she had cheated on me, and she wouldn’t tell me the truth so because in my head it was what actually happened and I didn’t want anything to do with her, outside of the council meetings.”

“I understand. I would’ve believed the same thing. It’s not all your fault.”

“But it is. I loved her, but I wasn’t the best companion. I admit I was quite egocentric at the time and couldn’t show her how much I loved her. We fought more and more as time went on and after having been together for a few years, she ended one of our fights by telling me that we were done. I should have changed, for her, but I couldn’t put my ego aside for a minute, and I was just so angry with her. I couldn’t believe she would leave me like this. I couldn’t see what I had done wrong.

“And then you learned she was pregnant, not from her I imagine, and you did the maths and thought she had cheated on you at the end of your relationship. Did you end up thinking it was the reason why she broke up with you?”

“Yes. I couldn’t see my own mistakes, so I put the fault on her, convincing myself that she had been cheating on me, probably found out she was pregnant early on, with another man’s child, and ended things with me. But I’d thought she would eventually get with someone else, and she never did, and from what I know now, never even spoke of her child’s father. Not even to Abby. I was stupid. I should have known she would never do something like this to me and I should have pushed her to tell me the truth, even if we fought.”

“Dad… It’s okay. You’ve made up for it, to me.”

“I will never be able to make up for the 18 years you spent hating me. I will always regret not being your dad for so long. I was so cold and mean towards you. You hated me.”

“Yeah, I hated you. Never once would I have thought you could me the father my mom always refused to talk about, and we fought so bad because of it, I… It was pretty rough between us when I was a teenager. I still hated you when you came to the ground. To me, you were the whole reason my mom had died. I didn’t want to blame anyone else, but you. And I remember having such a hard time accepting that you were my father, but I think… I don’t know. I was conflicted. I wanted to let you be my dad and at the same time I didn’t, so I was being horrible to you, for months. You were so patient with me. Not getting mad at me when I talked back and disrespected you, or just refused to say a single word to you for days…”

“You deserved patience. I didn’t have the right to come down here, having found out about being your father as your mother died, realizing that I had messed up so much, for so long, and start scolding you when you acted like an angry, grieving teenager. I needed to give you space and try to win you over.” He wasn’t crying, nor did his voice betray that he would, but his eyes were shining under the light hanging from the ceiling. Michelle’s lips trembled and she pressed them against each other, a tear rolling down her cheek. She stretched out her arms and drew him into a hug.

“I love you, dad. And I’m sure mom forgave you in the end. She must have had many regrets too.” Her voice was muffled, as she stuffed her chin and half of her mouth in the crook of his neck.

“I love you too.” He stifled a cry, “She told me she was sorry for never telling me that I was your father. And asked me to take care of you, and be the best father I could, now that I knew.”

“And you are.” She held him tighter, her voice breaking. “You’re the best father. Please never leave me.”

“I will always be there. Always. You are the best daughter I could have dreamed of.”

These talks with her father kept her heart busy enough not to dwell on her worries for Bellamy, which would then only happen at night, before falling asleep. And it distracted her from the suffering and soreness her whole body was in. She had grown to love her father so dearly. Her world had been changed completely when she let him into it. And it was for the better. They both needed this connection.

She was sleeping lightly, her eyelids twitching at the sound of the door opening and closing, and her eyes opening and closing in turn upon hearing her father’s voice, even though he spoke as quietly as possible, knowing she was sleeping right there.

“McCreary said you’re finished.”

“122 procedures in five days, without pills.” She glanced over at Michelle, the girl’s chest heaving so softly, her head turned to the side, her face plunged in the dark,  “123.”

“I heard that, too.” He paused, “Where’s Clarke? I’d like to thank her for helping you when I couldn’t.”

“I asked her and Madi to sleep at the church so we could talk. We could obviously not move Michelle, so we will have to be quiet. She needs as much sleep as she can get.” She didn’t know that by this point, Michelle was just fully listening, merely resting her eyes, until she fell asleep again.

Kane looked down, putting his hands on his hips and Abby reacted instantly, “I know that look. What’s wrong?”

“McCreary won’t accept Wonkru’s surrender.” Michelle opened her eyes. She thought only of Bellamy. “They’re all gonna get wiped out, and I told them how to do it.” Her head silently rolled, her eyes going from staring at the ceiling to looking at her father through the corners, her lips parted. He went to sit down, turning his back to Michelle.

“And I gave him the ability to.”

“I’m just so tired of having to choose the least— least bad option— Octavia or McCreary, starvation or—”

“First, we survive. Then we get our humanity back. You told me that a long time ago… You chose survival instead of starvation in the hope you would see your daughter again, and you did.”

She put her hand over his, but he slipped it away and covered his face with it, “Bellamy is coming here with Octavia. He will be killed, and Michelle will never forgive me this time. Never.” He took a deep breath, tears beading in the corners of his eyes. “I can’t lose her.”

“You won’t.” She stood up as he remained quiet, neither looking at her nor saying anything else. Michelle lied there, in this total silence and stared at the ceiling, twitching her fingers. The tears flooded her face and she sniffled, making her father turn around instantly, to look at her, having this reflex to check on her and he came to sit at the edge of the bed. She grabbed his arm, and he helped her to sit up. She cried out through her teeth, because of the pain, but wrapped her arms around him, breathing into his neck.

“I can’t lose you, or Bellamy.” He softly shushed her, trying to comfort her. Abby left them together as he held his daughter, soothing her and holding her as she slept in his arms, and he fell asleep too. Michelle kind of woke up when he did, after hearing the front door make some noise.

“Abby?” Michelle rubbed her eyes and turned her head to her father as he sat up, calling her name. But it was a man’s voice that answered.

“Abby’s not here.” Michelle squinted her eyes a bit, at first thinking the man was bald but he just had greyish or very light colored hair, and a pair of rectangle glasses, and he was tall. She didn’t move; her father having put a hand on her to silently tell her to stay put. “If I’m not mistaken, she went to examine colonel Diyoza.” Michelle grew worried, watching her father stand up from the corner of her eyes and he looked around. “Oh, the trigger to my collar… It was in her hand when she left.”

“Ok. Thank you, Vinson. I’ll tell her you were looking for her.” Michelle leaned on her elbows.

“Actually, it was you I came to see.”

“Dad—” She spoke under her breath, watching him take a step towards the man.

“All right. How can I help you?”

“I hear the battle is going well, thanks to you, hundreds of people died in a single day. All my days added together, it wouldn’t even come close.”

“I know what I’ve done, and I’ll struggle to live with that for the rest of my life.

“If only a conscience was a free pass and not just a voice in your head you pretend to listen to between unspeakable acts. I myself am burdened by conscience.”

“Well, I’m happy for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my daughter still needs some rest, and I need to get to the bridge once Abby comes back.” He took another step forward, and Vinson took one in his direction, making him back away.

“Why not embrace the demon instead. The way Abby does?” Kane’s eyes went to the metal tray on the table at his right and Michelle followed his gaze and saw the object that had gotten his attention before he looked back at the criminal in front of him, a scalpel. Vinson non-chalantly took a bottle of pills out of his suit’s pocket, “I get her pills for her. Did she tell you that?”

“No, but she’s clean now.” He put his hands on his hips. “I’m sure you’re grateful that she saved your life, so if you truly care for her, you’ll stop, and you let her heal.”

“I can’t do that.”

“All right. I think you need to leave.”

“Most addicts fall off the wagon in the wake of personal tragedy. Did you know that?.. The death of a loved one, for instance.” Michelle’s eyes widened as she them both throw themselves at the table with the scalpel and she screamed at the top of a lungs as she witnessed Vinson swiftly stab her father multiple times in his flank. She called for her dad while he fought back, throwing his elbow at his face, then landing a punch, throwing him off balance and making him fall on his stomach. Kane held his side as he bled out, hunched over. Michelle was bawling, trying to get up and let out a sharp scream as she collapsed to the floor, which made him turn towards her and gave a new opportunity for Vinson to attack. The latter jumped on him and despite Kane fighting all he could, he was lifted off the ground and slammed on a table. Michelle wailed and screamed, begging Vinson to stop as he repeatly slammed her father’s head against the table and leaned over, sounding like a wild animal. Michelle was out of breath at this point, gasping for air, all while weeing. Her eyes went even wider than before, just pure shock and terror plastered on her face when she saw all the blood around his mouth as his collar zapped, shocking him.

Michelle’s eyes felt like they were glued open, and she crawled to the table as he dropped dead. Abby had returned and was the one who zapped him, but Michelle ignored her voice when she called out to him. The young girl cried through the pain and pulled herself up, struggling but determined to lean on the table to see her father.

“Dad— Dad, please… plea-ease… you said you would never me. You said you would always always be there— you can’t leave me…” She grasped his t-shirt, sobbing hysterically, while Abby rushed to put pressure on his wound. He spoke their names weakly, lifting his hand and trying to find his daughter but dropping it because he didn’t have the strength to move any of his limbs. Michelle held his hand.

“No, don’t try to talk. I can fix it.” She stared at the blood staining her fingers. Her hand trembled.

“I forgive you. I know you told Octavia to break me.” His eyes were closing. Abby turned his face towards her, “She killed those people, not you. It was Octavia. It was Octavia.”

Upon seeing his eyes close, drifting away, Michelle completely lost it, “No! No— no, no, no, no, no… Dad—please…” She then shouted at Abby to fix it but there was not much to do besides applying pressure. He was bleeding from everywhere and had been bitten in the neck. But it wasn’t possible for him to die. He couldn’t die. He told her he would always be there. He just couldn’t die. She was panting, struggling to breath. His last words were to blame Octavia. Octavia was the cause of all this. Octavia had gotten her shot and paralized, and so many dead, which would soon include her father as he bled out on that table. She could only think about how Octavia should die too. It was only fair, after everything she had been the cause of.

[To be continued…]  

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Published (08/22/2025) by Andrea

Taglist: @mirellef2001

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Back from vacation, and officially back into writing 😉

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