Bi girl with a seasonal god complex, accompanied by a side of imposter syndrome and anxiety, sprinkles of depression and a cup of obssesion with pop culture |feed: prinscher.
now some oc writers are using the “x reader” tag and giving the excuse that “it’s just a different perspective.” it doesn’t matter if you use that tag IF YOU’RE NOT INCLUDING THE READER! YOU have your own tag, leave us alone.
the “x reader” tag exists so that readers of any background, appearance, or identity can immerse themselves in a story and feel included as the main character.
when you write a story centered around your own original character, with a defined name, personality, and often a specific appearance, you’re no longer inviting the reader to step into that role, you’re writing about your character, not the reader. that’s completely fine! writing oc content is valid and has its own space.
but misusing the “x reader” tag to gain visibility or clicks is misleading. it sets the wrong expectations and excludes readers who were looking for stories where they could truly see themselves in the narrative. if your story focuses on your oc, label it honestly.
use the “oc x canon” tag or “original character” there’s no shame in that. but please stop co-opting a space that’s meant to be inclusive and flexible for all readers, especially those who are often underrepresented in fiction. the “x reader” tag is not a blank slate for oc projection.
it’s meant to include everyone, not just your creative vision.
respect your audience. tag responsibly.
NOTE: writing in another point of view like “SHE/HE went to the market” instead of “YOU went to the market” does not count as “x reader.”
(not 100% but most of the time) don’t try to be clever or sneaky about it.
NOTE 2: by the way, regarding the second image, it’s great to see more asian, black, and mixed oc’s! but even so, that still doesn’t make it a reader insert, let alone fit the tag. the reader needs to be the main character.
Summary: while marcus kane tries to keep Roan on the throne, *yn* realises that her time rotting in polis is over as her defence mechanisms fail her. Roan and *yn* clash in more ways than one.
Notes: Based on 4x02 “Heavy Lies the Crown” of The 100.
‘Privileged’ Masterlist
*yn* wasn't sure how much time had passed. A few days at least.
After Clarke and Bellamy had left, she'd been shown to her room and collapsed onto the bed, still fully clothed, her body finally cashing in on the cheques adrenaline had written hours before.
The room was sparse but clean. A bed. A basin. A narrow window overlooking Polis that she'd now spent hours upon hours staring blankly out of.
She hadn't left her room, except to open the door three times a day, when a guard would drop a tray of food like clockwork. She picked at her lunch now, still only able to stomach a few mouthfuls at a time.
Bellamy’s face flashed in her mind.
The way his voice had broken. The way he hadn’t reached for her.
She pushed her plate away as her stomach churned.
There was a tentative knock at the door, so quiet *yn* hoped she'd imagined it.
She sighed, fixing her gaze out at Polis below when there was another knock, louder this time.
"*yn*?"
Her father.
She chewed the inside of her cheek. If she looked hard enough, she could make out the shapes of people below going about their business. She picked up a few grapes lying forgotten on the side of her barely touched plate.
"I know you're in there."
"I'm busy." She responded. She squinted one eye shut and squeezed a grape between her thumb and pointer finger.
“It’s important.”
With a flick of her wrist, the grape went flying, sailing out through the open window and disappearing down into the streets below. She strained her ears, waiting to hear an exclamation of surprise, but none came.
Octavia huffed impatiently, turning to Kane.
“Let’s just go.”
“She should be there.” Kane murmured, one hand firmly on his hip as he knocked again.
“She doesn’t want to be there. And honestly, given her state she probably shouldn’t be there."
"He listens to her."
"He listens to her when she's herself, and right now she's anything but that."
Kane sighed, a wave of guilt washing over him.
They'd all agreed to give her space for the time being. And while they were doing that, he'd let himself indulge in the luxuries of free time, spending the last few days tangled up with Abby when he wasn't conferencing with Roan.
A small part of him had hoped that she'd come around on her own, that she'd magically appear at their meeting spot with a renewed sense of purpose, with that same vigour she’d had since childhood.
Now, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd made the selfish decision of letting her waste away in her room.
His hand hovered over the chipped door.
If Octavia caught the emotion flicker behind his eyes, she didn’t call it out.
"We’re wasting time." She insisted instead. "You can fill her in later.”
He nodded in defeat. Patting the oak separating him from his daughter once before retreating.
They were just going to have to face Roan without her.
-
All eyes turned to Kane and Octavia as they made their way into the throne room.
"Forgive the intrusion, your highness. May we have a word?"
Kane glanced at Echo. "Privately."
"You can wait." Echo answered. "Like the other ambassadors."
"Where is she?"
Echo swung around to face her king, her eyes hardening.
Kane glanced at Octavia out of the corner of his eye. "She's... preoccupied."
Roan eyed him as he tilted his head slightly. "She knows of what you wish to speak to me about?"
"We haven't had a chance to speak with her." Octavia answered this time, her face remaining emotionless.
Roan glanced between them as he leant back into his throne.
"She's wallowed long enough.” He jerked his head towards one of the guards stationed at the door. “Bring her to me."
Kane stood with his head bowed while Octavia kept her glare fixed on the king.
Silence settled on the room as they waited. After a few minutes muffled voices and grunts could be heard approaching.
Kane squeezed his eyes shut, praying with everything in him that this wasn’t about to turn into a *yn* Kane special.
“I’m going!”
The door burst open as *yn* practically sauntered in, two guards hot on her heels.
“Geez, what’s the rush?” She huffed as one of the guards shoved her forward.
Echo’s eyes narrowed at her laissez-faire attitude. Her hand drifted instinctively to hover over the pommel of her sword.
“Echo.” Roan’s eyes flickered down to her hand. “Leave us.”
Echo’s fingers twitched, her lower lip quivered like it was fighting to stop words spilling past it.
Kane shot *yn* a warning look out of his periphery in anticipation of a sarcastic comment, but it wasn't needed.
She was too focused on the throne room in front of her, flashes of the events a few days ago coming back like sequential punches to her gut.
Echo finally submitted, inclining her head stiffly to Roan before storming out of the room.
Roan turned to Kane once they were alone, a silent command to speak.
“We were right to be concerned about Trishanakru, Rafel plans to challenge you for control.”
*yn* kept her features neutral, avoiding the flicker of surprise that threatened to spill onto her features at the revelation.
"Bold move for a new ambassador."
She didn’t miss the way Roan’s features tightened in pain as he rose from his throne.
"So?" He gestured with his hands as he stalked towards them. "Let him come."
"With respect.. you're still recovering." Kane said tentatively.
"The law says you can pick someone to fight in your place." Octavia strode forward confidently.
"No, the clans will never accept a leader who hides behind the law, or another warriors blade."
"You'll lose." Octavia shrugged. "Lexa kicked your ass."
"Without a bullet wound in your chest." *yn* muttered.
Roan's eyes narrowed as they locked onto her.
"We should cancel the gathering." Kane interjected hastily. "Or delay it until your strong enough-"
"No." Roan shut him down. "Letting the ambassadors have a voice keeps the peace here."
He sauntered back to his throne. "Azgeda holds this city by force alone and the Flame won't keep the clans at bay forever. If they unite against us, we could lose."
"And they'll come for Skaikru." Octavia sighed in relisation.
"And the radiation comes for us all."
Roan's eyes darted again to *yn*. She was glancing at the floor in front of her, colour drained from her face. Like she'd seen a ghost.
"No one has to die." Kane stepped forward. "The point of our arrangement is to bide time to find a solution to save everyone."
"And how is that solution coming?"
"We're working on it." Kane reassured him. "In the meantime, I'm here to keep you in power. Let me talk with the ambassador."
*yn* already knew that talking would likely do no good. Judging by Roan's face, he held the same view.
"Go ahead - talk. But if you fail, I'll have no choice but to fight."
Kane nodded stiffly before turning to the door. *yn* followed hot on his heels, desperate to be anywhere but this room.
"Not you."
She came to a stop. She didn't need to turn around to know Roan was talking to her. She resisted the urge to sigh as she turned back around.
"I need to train incase your father fails." His eyes never left hers as he cocked his head ever so slightly. "You can put yourself to good use and help me."
For once, *yn* knew better than to argue.
-
The sharp clang of steel colliding echoed through the cavernous room.
*yn* clung to the wall, arms wrapped around herself as she tried to look anywhere other than the spot Elijah’s lifeless body had been lying less then a week ago.
She wasn’t sure how much longer she could bear to be in this room. Each strike of Echo and Roan’s blades sent her spiralling further and further.
This wasn’t meant to happen. Her walls were meant to be holding steady, not so fragile a faint breeze could send them crumbling.
Roan had changed into his training gear, a tight black singlet revealing sculpted biceps, his tanned skin rippling with every movement, every precise swipe. He let out a cry of pain as he raised his arm up to strike downwards, his chest muscles straining his wound.
Echo took advantage of his momentary weakness, swiping up and knocking the blade from his hands, pressing her own up against his neck.
"Fuck." Roan cursed, shoving her away from him in a bout of frustration as he gripped his pec.
"Let me take a look." Abby stepped forward from her place against the wall.
Roan tried to fight the urge to wince as she pulled his singlet down, examining his bullet wound.
"You're healing, but you need more time."
"Why accept this challenge at all?" Echo queried. "You're a King, make your own rules."
"I told you." Roan growled. "I won't be that kind of king." His eyes involuntarily flickered over to *yn*, their eyes meeting briefly.
Echo caught it, and without warning, she launched forward once more. Roan barely had time to bring his sword up to meet hers. He stumbled back, involuntarily grasping at his pec again to shield his wound.
Despite his best efforts, Echo overpowered him with ease - a firm kick to the chest sending him tumbling down to the ground.
Echo stalked forward, extending her hand out for him to take.
"I would be honoured to take your place in this fight."
"I will not run from this challenge." Roan snapped, ignoring her hand as he pushed himself back up onto his feet.
"Echo's right." Abby agreed. "I didn't save your life just for you to tear yourself apart again."
"Since when are you two on the same side?" He gestured between them with his blade.
"Since you apparently decided you were on a suicide mission." *yn* muttered from her corner.
She met Roan's glare head on, unfazed by the sharpness.
He turned back to Abby, his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
"And if you can't help me, then why the hell are you still here?"
Abby eyed him for a few moments, then locked eyes with *yn* behind him, who inclined her head ever so slightly to indicate her sympathy.
With that, Abby dipped her chin curtly and exited the room without another word.
Roan watched her go before turning his attention to *yn*.
“Sub in for me.” His voice was gruff, no hint of the usual amusement he reserved for her.
*yn* hesitated - an argument or dismissal on the tip of her tongue. But, after their encounter this morning, she knew her people were on shaky ground here. She couldn’t risk this alliance - not with her people’s lives at risk.
Besides, maybe focusing on inflicting as much pain on Echo would distract her from the suffocating aura of this room.
She stepped forward and took the blade from Roan tentatively, testing the weight of it in her hand.
She’d had it in her hand for mere moments when Echo charged forward, a huff of exertion slipping past her lips as she swung her blade straight at *yn*’s chest.
She gritted her teeth as she brought up her weapon in front of her chest just in time. Her and Echo grunted as they pushed against eachother.
*yn* could already feel her body failing her. The lack of sleep and food combining to create limp muscles and limited energy.
With one last push, she shoved Echo’s sword off her, causing the metal to screech.
Echo looked barely puffed, a wild gleam in her eye as she circled *yn*. She lunged forward again, the pair locked in a battle of lunges and dodges.
Roan’s eyes tracked their movements with intense curiosity.
It was clear Echo had the upper hand, the clear aggressor as *yn* scrambled to defend her onslaught of swipes and stabs.
Then *yn* messily lunged forward, misjudging Echo’s steps. Echo responded with robotic accuracy, catching *yn*’s arm in a painful twist.
*yn* grunted as her wrist contorted in an unnatural angle, forcing her to drop her blade. Echo pulled her body closer and slammed her head into *yn*’s nose.
Immediately dizzy, *yn* stumbled back as heat rushed to her face, blood immediately filling up her mouth. Her head spun as she shakily brought a hand up to her nose. Her fingers were coated in blood as she pulled it back.
“Where is this Malak al maut no one seems to stop talking about?” Echo taunted, twisted her blade from hand to hand.
*yn* glared at her, too tired to verbally respond. She spat blood onto the floor, bringing her fists up in front of her chest.
Roan glanced between the two of them, looking almost bored.
“Kill her.” He commanded.
*yn*'s stomach dropped.
Echo’s eyes lit up like a rabid dog being given the order to sic herself onto a victim. Like she’d been waiting for this command since she’d first laid eyes on *yn*.
Before *yn* could even open her mouth to protest, Echo let out a primal scream as she charged forward.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she leapt out of the way, her ankle twisting as she slammed to the ground. She twisted onto her back just as Echo’s blade struck the floor, inches from where her head had just been.
Her eyes were wide in panic as she tried futilely to dodge Echo's onslaught. She let out a grunt as Echo brought her boot down onto her arm to stop her from moving.
“Say goodbye Malak al maut.” Echo grinned wickedly as she raised her sword above her head to deliver the final blow.
*yn*’s involuntarily squeezed shut.
And in that moment as she waited for her end, despite all of the pain she had suffered, the people she'd lost, she found herself desperate to survive, desperate to live.
“Stop.” Roan ordered lazily.
Silence fell over the room. *yn* dared to open one eye open a crack to see the blade millimetres from her chest.
Echo’s eyes were animalistic, her body trembling with rage as she hovered the blade above her, like she was having to physically hold herself back.
“That’s enough.”
Echo stayed there for a few moments, like she was hoping he might change his mind.
"Echo."
Reluctantly she pulled the blade away, stepping over *yn*'s body like she was nothing.
*yn* stayed on her back, her chest heaving as blood streamed down her chin and onto her chest.
Roan appeared above her, a look of disgust on his features. "You are weak."
*yn* sat up, her eyes darting to the sword lying forgotten on the floor only metres from her. Rage bubbled up inside her, clouding her judgment and providing her with enough energy to act on her impulsive thought.
She lunged forward and grabbed it. Roan turned just as she raised to strike him. He deflected her with ease, kicking her feet out from under her without breaking a sweat.
She grunted as she landed flat on her back once more. He placed a foot on her chest to stop her from rising.
“You cannot defeat me, even while I am hindered.” The disappointment in his tone made her cheeks burn, like a child scolded.
“You are no use to me in this condition."
He let her shove him off her this time.
Like a wounded animal with her tail tucked, she stormed out of the room without another word.
“Let her go.” Roman ordered to Echo as she moved to follow after her.
“I’ve made my point.”
"But sire-"
Roan raised his sword up again, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Again."
-
*yn* stormed down the halls towards her room. She flung her door open, the hinges screaching from the force, teetering as if they might fall apart.
A flurry of emotions attacked her from all sides - rage, humiliation, sadness, fear, but one reigned supreme - disappointment. It felt like a slap in the face.
Had she really let herself get so sloppy? So vulnerable in a place where death faced her at every turn?
“Fuck.” She cursed, slamming the door behind her.
“*yn*?”
She turned to see her dad seated on the edge of her bed, clearly waiting for her to return.
“What the hell happened to you?”
She marched into her bathroom. “I got my ass kicked, that’s what happened.” She snapped as she aggressively turned the tap.
“By who?” Kane followed her into the bathroom, hovering at the door.
“It doesn’t matter who. What matters is I’d have been dead.” She shoved her hands under the cold water, watching it turn red.
"Sit down." Kane grabbed a rag from the cabinet.
"Sit down." He repeated when she opened her mouth to argue.
She huffed and sat on the edge of the tub. "You're still my daughter you know." He reminded her as he placed a rag under her nose.
"It's my job to take care of you."
She let him tilt her head back. She caught his eye then, seeing the way his expression softened as he studied her.
"No one should have to have that job." It was meant to be sarcastic, but instead it came out pained.
A metallic tang hit the back of her throat.
Kane let that one go through to the keeper, tentatively testing the cartlidge in her nose.
"I don't think it's broken, but I think Abby should have a look-"
"-I'm fine." She insisted.
Kane pulled away at that, looking down at her firmly.
"I get that you want to take care of everyone else, but in order to do so, you have to look after yourself too darling."
The kindness in which he spoke those words made her chin wobble unexpectedly.
"I can't- not right now." Her admission was barely above a whisper.
Kane knelt down in front of her, taking her trembling hands in his. "You can." He urged her gently. "You must. Our fight isn't over just yet."
"It's never over." Her voice was small, childlike, as she found herself craving the feeling of just being someone's daughter - someone's little problem to protect.
Kane smiled sadly. "It will be, eventually. We just have to drag ourselves over that line."
"I don't know how to keep moving anymore."
Kane squeezed her hands as tears of his own flecked his eyes.
"You take it one day at a time. You let yourself lean on the people who are there for you." He paused for a moment, like he was debating whether or not to speak his next thoughts.
"And... I think it would help if you said goodbye."
Her brow furrowed ever so slightly.
"He's been down there for a few days now."
Her heart leapt into her throat, her body immediately going into flight mode as it desperately tried to protect itself.
"Don't-"
"Listen." His voice was gentle, but with a slight firm edge. His grip on her hands tightened ever so slightly.
"I can't imagine how hard this is for you. But it's time. If not for you, then for him. Don't you want to give him peace?"
"I- I can't." Her voice finally cracked, giving out under the pressure sitting so heavily on her chest.
"If I go down there and see him... it means it's real. And if I let myself feel that loss... I don't think I can come back from that."
She couldn't believe she'd finally uttered that admission out loud. She didn't feel the tsunami of shame like she'd expected, instead she felt some of the pressure lift off her chest, the admission acting like a gentle wave lapping at her shores.
"Sweetheart." Kane murmured, his tears teetering on the edge in the corners of his eyes.
"You are the strongest person I know. But you have to let yourself grieve in order to start healing. Trying to shut down such a big part of yourself is only going to lead to you imploding." He brought a hand up to tuck a matted strand of hair behind her ear.
"We've all tried that strategy, and we all know it never works."
She nodded, more to herself than to him.
He was right, she'd known deep down all along that an attempt to numb herself was a temporary patch job - and a flimsy one at that.
"Take this time in Polis to focus on yourself, while you're away from everyone else."
She knew who he meant, of course she did.
"Let yourself try to heal, and most importantly be kind to yourself." He thumbed her chin affectionatly.
"Because without *yn* Kane, we don't have much chance of surviving."
For the first time in what felt like forever, the faintest of smiles graced her lips. The movement felt foreign.
"So no pressure then."
Kane mirrored her smile back.
"None whatsoever."
-
The temple was quiet after nightfall.
A few candles flickered as she walked further through the winding passage.
Sage sticks and scented candles were scattered throughout, attempting to mask the familiar smell of the dead.
Tendrils of smoke curled in the air, drifting up through the hexagonal opening in the roof of the cavernous room. The smell of incense coated the back of her throat, invading her senses.
She didn't have to walk too far to find him.
His body was placed on a low pyre, draped in white sheets. Gems and bushels of rosemary were placed with intricate precision around him.
She was so close to him now that she could almost lean forward and touch him.
She took one step forward and then stopped. Every part of her was screaming at her to run, to look away and scrub this from her memory before it was too late.
"Good evening."
Her body tensed as an unfamiliar woman appeared from the shadows, her face concealed by her cloak and the moonlight.
"Sorry I'll go-"
"The temple is always open, all are welcome here." The woman reassured her.
She took a step into the candlelight, shrugging the hood off her face.
"I am Gaia."
"*yn*."
Gaia shot her a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. "I know who you are."
*yn*'s attention shifted back to Elijah's body. Gaia's gaze followed.
"I am sorry for your loss."
"Thank you." *yn* murmured.
Gaia came to stand beside her, observing her curiously. "He must be important. King Roan personally requested that he be guarded until your arrival."
*yn* blinked, unable to hide her surprise. "He did?"
Gaia nodded. "I hope it is ok we prepared him according to our customs... I am not familiar with Skaikru burial rituals."
*yn* elected not to tell her that their only ritual was to be shot out of an airlock into space.
"It is perfect." *yn* reassured her. "Thank you."
Gaia's face softened, caught off guard by Malak al maut's kindness.
"Can I?" *yn*'s voice quietened as she went to reach for the cloth covering his face.
"Of course." Gaia nodded.
*yn*'s trembling hand gently pulled back the cloth, revealing Elijah's face.
His body had been scrubbed clean, gemstones covered his closed eyes.
"He looks so... calm."
"He is at peace." Gaia observed. "His soul knows it is about to be released."
*yn* followed Gaia's gaze up through the cutout in the roof, revealing the smattering of stars above them.
"Is that what your people believe? That all those stars up there are ones who have gone before us?"
Gaia smile was laced with sadness. "We do."
She turned to look at *yn*. "And you? What do you believe?"
She'd never really given it much thought, so busy trying to survive that the thought of what comes next was a distant problem.
"I don't know." *yn* confessed after a moment. "But the idea that everyone I know who is gone is up there somewhere watching over us is kind of nice."
"They are." Gaia nodded. "If I look up and focus, sometimes I feel my ancestors guiding me. That is how I know I am on the right path." *yn* watched as Gaia brought a hand up toward the sky, revealing intricate swirls of ink along her arm.
"Ah." Gaia glanced down at her exposed arms. "It is another tradition. We endure the pain to show respect to those we have lost."
*yn* merely nodded, her mind wondering as silence passed between them.
She glanced down at the wooden logs underneath the pyre.
"So once I..."
"Once you return his body to the earth, his soul will take its place in the sky, where he can watch over you." Gaia finished for her.
*yn* brushed a hand down his cold cheek.
"I will leave you two alone now, so you may say goodbye properly."
Gaia bowed her head ever so slightly, hesitating as she turned to go.
"If you would like, I can prepare his ashes in our custom."
"I would like that." *yn* smiled sadly. "Thank you."
Gaia nodded, shooting her one last smile before shrugging her hood back on over her head and slipping back into the shadows.
*yn* let out a shaky breath as she spent a few moments taking in every line and crevice of Elijah's face.
She bent down, pressing her lips to his stone cold forehead.
She grabbed the torch off the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as she finally let her tears fall.
"May we meet again."
The flame sprung eagerly onto the wood, crawling up until eventually the whole pyre was burning. She watched silently as the smoke drifted upward, billowing out into the night sky.
She was not sure how long she stood there, long after the flame had died out and the ashes appeared through the smoke.
A strange sense of calm settled over her. Like the fire had cleansed her of her mental haze, drawing everything into sharp focus, giving her clarity.
Elijah had died to save her, so she could fight for her people. She could not let that go in vein. She could not afford to wallow any longer.
She was no where near put back together, but there were glimpses peaking out of who she was, who she could be.
She glanced up at the sky. She swore if she squinted, she could see an extra star there that was not there before.
"My fight is not over Elijah." She murmured. "I promise I will see it through."
This time when she glanced down at her hands, they were perfectly still.
-
When she returned to her room, there was a note placed on her bed.
Talk with Rafel did not go well. Roan intends to hold the meeting tomorrow morning.
She placed the note down and cursed under her breath. She marched over to her dresser and rifled through clothes that weren't hers. She stopped when her fingers landed on a dark cloak. She slid her hand to her thigh, confirming that the small blade she'd managed to steal was still pressed against her skin.
It would have to do.
-
The streets of Polis were quieter at night most of its inhabitants slinking away into crevices under the eye of the full moon.
*yn* moved through the stragglers with practiced nonchalance, appearing so at ease that no one spared her a second glance.
The ambassadors quarters were easy to locate, and even easier to infiltrate. There were barely any guards on duty, and those posted were either dosing or so busy talking they paid no mind to a flash of black against the shadows.
She slipped in through the final door.
The ambassador was hunched over a meal, shovelling bread into his mouth.
He glanced up over his wine goblet at the sound of footsteps.
He stilled, only for a moment, before turning back to picking at the food in his hand.
"I was wondering when I'd get to meet you."
*yn* ignored him, shoving her hood off her head.
"I heard your meeting with the Skaikru ambassador didn't go well today."
He smirked, letting out a dry chuckle as he dipped the bread into the sauce on his plate.
"And let me guess, you're here to get me to change my mind?"
"I'm here to get you to listen to reason." She came to a stop beside him.
Rafel's grin widened as he studied her. "Roan must really be injured if he's sending out his little pet to do his dirty work."
She ignored the barb seeped in misogyny.
"Well, if you're so intent on doing things the honourable way, then you should delay your challenge until he's healed so it's a fair fight."
Rafel barked out a laugh. "I don't think so. That throne will be mine."
She leant her palms on the table, leaning over him slightly.
"I thought you were all about getting justice for Trishanakru."
"Hai gada." He muttered, shoving food into his mouth.
Her eyes narrowed. "Kefa bandrona."
His amusement was wearing thin, his jaw clenched as his eyes snapped up to meet her.
"The clans are stronger together. Think about your people, not the hunger for power you try to thinly veil as justice."
He leant back in his chair, his body exposed. *yn*'s eyes flickered to his plate. His knife lay at an angle on his plate, so close to her fingers the metal was practically brushing against her skin.
"You do not frighten me, girl."
It was the kind of arrogance that only a man could display.
"Do not challenge Roan tomorrow."
"I will challenge Roan tomorrow." He spoke slowly. "And once I kill him, my first order will be to string you and every last person of Skaikru within these walls up on the gates for the crows to feast on."
He sucked his fingers, the noise grating her ears.
He chuckled at the way her face hardened. He turned his attention back to his meal. "Now leave." He waved a hand to her dismissively, "Before I decide to-"
*yn* never heard what Rafel's plan was for her. Because the second he took his eyes off her, she had darted forward and grabbed the knife off his plate.
With perfect precision, she plunged it into his ear. She gripped the side of his head and pressed it into the blade, wedging it deeper into his cranium.
He let out one gasp of surprise before his wide eyes glassed over, his body stilling in the same breath.
A quick death, probably so quick it was relatively painless. Probably more than he deserved.
She let his body slump naturally into his food as she yanked the knife out. She wiped it down with a napkin before placing it back down onto his plate.
With the same cloth, she wiped his ear, removing any trace of the location of his fatal wound before pocketing the bloodied material.
She gave him a once over, making sure it was impossible to trace his demise back to her. Once she was satisfied, she shrugged her cloak back on over her head and slipped back into the welcome embrace of the moon.
-
*yn* did not sleep that night, it evaded her as it usually did these days.
Instead, she showered and dressed and sat on her chair by the window watching slowly as the inky purple and blues of the sky faded into smears of peach and tangerine.
It was only then that she allowed herself to think of her people at Arkadia.
Allowed herself to think of him.
“So we might only have six months left to live and you’re going to spend it here in Polis, pretending that you don’t love me?”
She let out a shaky breath.
"I do love you." She whispered to the dawn, to the sleepy city and its inhabitants below her. "I just have to save them first."
She wondered if he could feel her. If the winds would carry those words from Polis to him in Arkadia.
She felt a sense of calm as the sun finally broke free of the horizon.
A sharp knock at her door was her alarm.
Roan, draped in his royal garb, met her at her door.
He ran his eyes down her figure, pursing his lips as his blue eyes met hers. If he was surprised at the effort she had put into her appearance, he didn't show it.
“I was expecting to have to drag you out of here.”
“Guess it’s your lucky day.”
His eyes narrowed. “The gathering will begin soon.”
“You know.” She shut the door behind her, falling into step with him. “You still have time to cancel it.”
“Your father already tried that line this morning.”
“Then you know what I’m about to say.” She glanced over at him. “He’s going to kill you.”
“Then I die with honour.”
“Then we all die.”
He came to a stop outside the main doors to the throne room.
“I will not back down from this.”
She shook her head slightly crossing her arms over her chest.
Roan glanced at the closed doors, before turning to her once more.
“I want you standing up there with me.”
*yn* raises a brow. “Why? So you can laud me over everyone?”
Something that almost resembled a smile flashed across his features.
She was different today, lighter, more fiery. The Malak al maut he had grown to enjoy sparring with.
"So I can remind everyone that I have Malak al maut supporting me." He corrected.
“And-" He added, his eyes flicking down her figure. "-so I can have something to distract the ambassadors with."
-
"Your highness, your loyal ambassadors."
The throne room had been transformed, twelve seats now sat in an oval shape all facing towards Roan's throne. The room was packed full of onlookers and guards, eyes all fixed on Roan and Malak al maut.
The ambassadors poured in, Kane at the front of the pack. He made a beeline straight for Roan.
His eyes darted to *yn* who stood slightly behind Roan's throne to his left. The bruising from her nose had started to bloom outward, darkened veins creeping towards her eyes.
The ghost of a chin dip was all she could do to signal that she was ok.
"Please." Kane spoke in a hushed whisper. "Roan, it's not too late to cancel."
"You failed. We do this Azgeda's way." Roan answered. "Take your seat ambassador."
*yn* watched as the ambassadors took their seats.
"Where is Rafel kom Trishanakru?" Roan's voice deafened the whispers of the audience.
*yn* kept her face the perfect picture of predatory stillness.
The door burst open, all eyes flitting to Echo. *yn* watched as she made her way toward Roan.
Echo bent down and spoke in hushed whispers to Roan. *yn* could only catch traces.
"Found dead...no sign of wounds....this morning."
Roan rose from his throne.
"The ambassador was found dead this morning. His heart stopped."
Shocked whispers rippled through the room.
*yn*'s eyes flitted to Kane for a split second. His gaze was on someone across the room.
Octavia.
As if she sensed her gaze, their eyes met briefly. She saw the understanding flash across Octavia's face for a split second, before her mask of neutrality slipped back up.
Marcus followed Octavia’s gaze to his daughter. His eyes widening just a fraction as realisation dawned on him.
Roan bowed his head, everyone else including *yn* followed suit.
"May the spirit of the commanders guide him safely home." He spoke in his natural tongue.
*yn* raised her head just as Roan turned to make his way back to his seat. Their eyes met briefly, his gaze hardening for a split second.
“Let us begin.”
-
Heavy steps down the hallway outside her room grew louder.
“Wait here.” A muffled voice ordered.
Like clockwork, the door burst open. Roan stormed in like a tidal wave, his presence taking up every inch of her small quarters.
“You know it’s rude not to knock.” She drawled as she slid her jacket up over her head.
The door slammed shut as he marched toward her.
“You had no right to do that.”
“Do what?”
“You know what.” He hissed.
“Why are you assuming it was me? Octavia has been very stab happy lately.” She remarked as she stalked past him to her dresser.
“Enough games.” He growled. “You robbed me of my honour by killing Rafel.”
She rolled her eyes. "Oh please."
“It makes me look weak.”
“You’re doing a good enough job of that on your own.”
She chucked the coat into a drawer, shutting it with her hip as she turned. She nearly let out a gasp of surprise when she bumped into Roan’s chest. He had cornered her without a sound.
“You know you almost had me.” His eyes narrowed. “Insisting that I cancel the meeting this morning, acting concerned.”
He cocked his head. “It was good, I’ll give you that. Your only downfall is that Echo tells me there wasn’t even a drop of blood found."
"So?"
"So, Octavia’s too blood thirsty to kill a man like that in her current state. This was precise, calculated.”
If *yn* didn’t know any better, she would swear there was almost a hint of admiration in his tone.
She finally conceded under his glare.
“I saved your ass and you know it.”
“You did it without consulting me.” He snarled, placing his hands on the dresser, pinning her in place.
“You had no chance against him in your condition.” She jutted her chin up to meet his gaze. “Without me, you’d be dead and I’d be right alongside you.”
“You went behind my back.”
“I only found out about the failed negotiations in the middle of the night. I didn’t exactly have time to figure out where your chambers are to ask for your permission.”
Roan angled his head slightly as he looked down at her.
“If you want to know where my bedroom is, just ask."
*yn*’s frown creased ever so slightly, her jaw ticking as she tried to fight the smirk that threatened to spill onto her lips.
“Trust me, I’m very happy not being privy to that information.” Her eyes wanted to glance down at his lips, threatening to betray her.
“So, is that all?" Was what she said instead as she pushed off the dresser. "Or did you maybe want to thank me for saving your life while you’re here?"
She moved to stalk past him but his hand shot out, snagging her forearm in a vice like grip. She whirled back around, pinning him in place with her glare.
“Don’t do anything like that without talking to me first again.”
She studied him for a few moments, giving him a chance to move his hand. Then without warning she twisted his arm, contorting it at a painful angle.
Roan let out a grunt in surprise, followed by a hiss as she brought it behind his body, causing his bullet wound to stretch.
She used his weakness to her advantage, kicking him behind the kneecap, causing his legs to involuntarily buckle.
Once he was on his knees, she roughly pulled his hair back to expose his jugular. She unsheathed her blade, pressing it to his carotid, as she brought her lips to the shell of his ear.
"How about you try not underestimating me instead?"
With that she let go of his hair, pushing him forward with force.
He caught himself before he could faceplant on the ground, twisting around to look up at her towering above him.
Their chests heaved in rhythm as they eyed each other, sizing one another up.
Slowly, a rare, wolfish grin spread across his lips.
“Welcome back, little angel.”
****
Hai gada = stupid girl.
Kefa bandrona = careful, ambassador.
As always always always, feedback is always appreciated because I thrive off praise. Please give it back here and consider tipping me! 🤍
Nothing more painful than when a kind stranger tells you about some random AI feature in a way that is clearly meant to be helpful and you have to choose between nodding along in despair or turning wokezilla 3000 on them
A/N: i hope you guys enjoyed the first part, so now here is part 2! its also the end of this story just fyi
WORD COUNT: 9.1k
PAIRING: hockey-player!harry x doctor!reader
SUMMARY: As Harry moves closer and closer to winning his first ever Stanley Cup, he also gets to grow closer to Y/N, who is still hesitant to let her guards down, but it seems like Harry's charm is working on her.
MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
Harry barely hears the whistle.
“Styles!”
The sharp call cuts across the ice, snapping him out of whatever thought he’d drifted into. He blinks, glancing toward the bench where the coach Azoff is already shaking his head.
“Focus!”
“Yeah, got it,” Harry nods quickly, skating back into position. Luckily it’s just practice, not a real game, that’s why he allows his mind to wander and not be on the drill.
When practice finally wraps up, second of the day, he is the first one off the ice, like it’s burning his feet. He is pulling his gloves off, practically running to his locker to grab his phone.
“You alright, Styles?” A familiar voice that belongs to his teammate Mitch calls after him. “You expecting a call from the president or something?”
Harry doesn’t look up, unlocking his phone, thumb moving instinctively to his messages. Nothing new, unfortunately. He exhales, trying not to look as disappointed, he knows she is working right now and she usually can’t check her phone for hours in the chaos of the ER, but he was still hoping to find a reply from her.
“Something like that,” he mutters, dropping the phone back into his bag as he starts taking his practice jersey and gear off. Mitch drops onto the bench beside him, nudging his knee against Harry’s before he starts unlacing his skates.
“You’ve been pretty distracted today and your phone has been glued to your hands lately. What’s going on?”
Harry huffs out a quiet laugh. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but I have an idea.” Niall walks into the dressing room with a teasing smirk. His hoodie is covering his arms, but his bandages stick out a little under the sleeves. After a night in the hospital he stayed home for a few weeks, but the assistant coach was back at work by the time the playoffs started over a week ago. “Maybe it has something to do with a pretty doctor?”
The guys in the room start whistling while Harry just shakes his head laughing.
“Can you guys mind your own business?”
“We’re a team, your business is our business,” Mitch tells him with a straight face.
“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling his skates off.
“Our Harry is head over heels in love with the doctor who patched me up,” Niall announces and the guys start cheering and whistling again.
“I am not in love!” Harry protests, but it’s barely heard over the noise in the room. “Okay, I don’t have time for your immature shit!” he announces, heading into the showers.
“Are you meeting her now too?” Niall teases him. Harry stops at the door, towel over his shoulder as he looks back, all of his teammates waiting for his answer.
“I am.”
The room erupts and Harry just walks away laughing.
About forty minutes later Harry is sitting on a bench in the small park near the hospital with two paper cups in his hands, smelling fresh from his shower, his sports bag is still in the back of his car since he came here straight from practice. His knee is bouncing as he waits, his pulse jumping every time he sees someone remotely similar to her.
Then he spots her crossing the road, heading in his direction and his breath catches in his throat for a second.
She is wearing her black scrubs, a baby blue shirt peeking out from under at the collar and she has her hoodie on again, her ID dangling from the pocket on the front of her shirt as she walks. She has no makeup on, her eyes look a little tired but still, he can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.
“You’re late,” he smirks teasingly, handing her one of the cups as she sits beside him.
“By eight minutes,” she huffs. “Which, for me, is practically early.”
“Mm,” he hums. “I was about to leave.”
“Liar,” she smiles, taking a sip from her tea. Harry just smiles.
“How was practice?” she asks, pulling a leg up so she angles her body towards him, sitting sideways on the bench.
“Alright,” he nods, but he thinks otherwise. I was distracted, because I was thinking about seeing you all along.
“How is Niall doing?”
“Are you asking me about another guy right now?” Harry gasps dramatically, making her laugh.
“He was my patient! Just wanted to know how he is doing!”
“Do you want me to call him and ask him to come here? Would you rather spend time with him?” he keeps his act going, but she just laughs, shaking her head.
“Shut up, I don’t want to meet him!”
“Only me then?” She gapes at his cockiness, punching him in the shoulder lightly. “Hey! Careful! Don’t want to injure me in the middle of playoffs,” he grins.
“Mm, like you have a chance of winning the Cup. You almost lost the last game.”
“So you were watching?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at her.
“Actually, Betty put it on when I was trying to catch up with documentation. All nurses were glued to the screen and I was informed of the outcome which I missed because of a patient.”
“Really? Maybe I should send them tickets to a game.”
“I’m sure they would love to see the boy aquarium up close,” she grins into her cup, knowing well how ridiculous Harry finds that term. From someone else it might even be irritating, but from her it’s rather cute so he lets her get away with it.
“And what about you?”
She stops for a second, but recovers fast, shrugging.
“Maybe.”
He watches her for a second, the way she hides behind that casual shrug like it doesn’t mean anything, though he knows it does.
“Maybe?” he repeats, nudging her knee lightly with his.
“That’s all you’re getting,” she hums, taking another sip of her tea.
“Alright,” he nods slowly, looking away from her. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“So damn cocky,” she whispers, making him laugh. “Unbelievable,” she adds in a murmur.
“Yet, you keep meeting me.”
She wants to get back with a smart retort, but nothing comes to her. She knows he is right. It’s their fourth time meeting since their reunion thanks to the grill party. Third time Harry came here to the park near the hospital so they can sit and chat in her break that not always happens, he got stood up twice already when an urgent case demolished her scheduled break. First time they met Harry waited for her after her shift, which stretched long, he brought takeout which they ate in her car before they both went home in their separate cars.
She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but these meetings have been her favorite part of her days. They are like the reward for surviving the madness of the ER.
She just smiles, taking another sip.
They stay for another about ten minutes, talking and slowly getting to know more about each other before her pager goes off, screaming at her it’s time to return. Harry walks you back to the entrance just so he can spend even the tiniest bit more of time with her.
“Thanks for the tea,” she smiles at him as they stop by the entrance.
“Maybe next time we could grab more than just a hot drink?”
“Mm, I haven’t seen you win the Cup yet,” she teases, pursing her lips.
“Oh, it wouldn’t be a date,” he shakes his head with a serious expression. “Just… mutual time killing.”
“Remember how I said I had no time during my residency?”
He nods.
“I have even less time now.”
“So it’s a no?” He pouts at her, using his best puppy eyes which she finds ridiculous, because it’s so cute, but he is also a tall, broad, bulky hockey player who is anything but cute on the ice.
She huffs out a laugh, one hand already pushing the door open before looking back at him.
“Do you have a game next Friday?"
Harry’s eyes light up.
“No. I come back on Wednesday and I don’t leave until Sunday.”
“Okay,” she nods, stepping inside, holding the door with her back. “I have Friday and Saturday off.”
And with that she disappears inside.
***
Y/N is usually good at keeping her feelings under control when it comes to her patients. In the hospital her focus is on saving lives and doing everything she possibly can to treat the people that trust her with their life, emotions would mess way too much with her head.
But today is just one of the harder ones. She lost three patients in a row just three hours into her shift and almost lost a fourth one because of a mistake one of the doctorates made. She had to deal with upset relatives and an aggressive husband who yanked her by her arm before security took him away. It’s been pure hell.
The night shift has slowed down and Betty told Y/N to take a long break which she at first protested against, but soon realized she needs it.
Sitting in the changing room by her locker she opens her texts with Harry. It’s late, he had a game tonight and is probably asleep by now or maybe out celebrating their win, she hesitates before sending him a message.
He answers almost right away. They have a lighthearted chat as Y/N heads up to the roof, the place she likes to retreat to whenever she feels like getting away from the chaos.
You alright?
He asks just as she steps out to the roof and sits on an old plastic chair, staring out at the flickering lights of the city. She chews on her bottom lip, unsure how to answer. She is obviously not alright, but she doesn’t want to burden Harry with it. On the other hand, she wants to talk to him. She wants to tell him about how shitty today has been and at times like this she doubts herself as a legitimate doctor.
Her thumbs hover over the screen before finally caving in.
Can I call you?
Harry was already in bed when Y/N texted him. He grabbed dinner with his teammates after the game, but didn’t feel like partying, so he headed home. Not at all in hopes of hearing from Y/N, that would be ridiculous to just sit around at home, waiting for a text.
The TV was on with the sound almost muted when her text came and he sat up in bed right away, his heart leaping in his chest.
Now as he stares at her last message asking if she could call, he almost feels dizzy. They’ve been texting back and forth so much lately, but never talked on the phone. He is also worried, her texts feel off tonight and he just wanted to make sure she was all good.
Sure.
He replies, turning on the bedside lamp and his phone rings just a few seconds later.
“Hi,” he breathes out softly.
“Hey. Hope I’m not interrupting your post-game celebrations.” Her voice is small, tired and he hears sirens in the distance. Maybe she is outside of the hospital having a break.
“No celebrations. Didn’t feel like it, so I’m already home. How are you?”
“Congrats on the game, by the way.” He notices how she didn’t answer his question.
“Thank you. One step closer to that Cup.” And our date, he thinks to himself, but bites the words back. “Y/N, are you alright?” he asks again.
This time she stays silent on the other end, he hears her draw in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.
“Just… having a shitty day.” She is trying to brush it off, he can tell, but he is dying to be the person she unloads onto all the weight off her shoulders.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks softly, letting her take the lead. She hesitates and he patiently waits until she finally speaks up.
“I lost patients today. Three in a row. And I know it happens, all the time, but not this close to each other. Then one of the doctorates made a mistake that I almost didn’t catch in time and it would have been fatal…”
Her voice dies down and though Harry can’t see her, he has a strong feeling she is struggling with tears. It’s killing him that he is not there next to her, comforting her not just with words, but physically as well.
“But I assume you did notice the mistake, right? And saved a life.”
“I did,” she exhales shakily. “But I should have been more cautious.”
His first instinct is to tell her it’s alright, that she did well, but he doesn’t want to pretend like he knows what it’s like to be a doctor, to have lives depend on him, it’s a burden he will probably never experience.
“I’m sorry you lost patients today. I’m sure you did everything you could,” he softly tells her, closing his eyes, only listening to her voice on the other end of the line.
“Sometimes… Sometimes I doubt that. That I did everything I could. That I’m a good enough doctor,” she admits and now he is certain that she’s crying.
And it breaks his heart.
His first instinct is to tell her that she is, not just good enough but probably one of the best. He wants her to see and treat herself as highly as he does, but then decides against it. Running his tongue across his lips he exhales softly, leaning forward slightly.
“I often doubt myself, whether I’m good enough to play with my team, to be an NHL player, to get as much ice time as I do.”
“You’re one of the best, Harry,” her reply comes, quiet and strained. “You worked hard to be where you are and you deserve your spot.”
He can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips as she says the exact same thing he wanted to tell her just a moment ago.
“Yeah. I did work my ass off,” he chuckles. “And I know you did too. Am I right?” She stays silent, which he takes as a yes. “Don’t let a bad day turn you against yourself.”
“Are all hockey players this wise?” she asks with a breathy chuckle and he feels his chest lighten.
“No. Just the best ones,” he grins. She huffs on the other end and they fall quiet for a few heartbeats before she speaks up.
“Thank you, Harry.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
“Sorry I loaded all of this on you after a game, you must be tired,” she lets out a bitter chuckle.
“I am tired, but never too tired to talk to you.”
He just can’t stop himself from being blunt and honest when it comes to her, but he doesn’t mind it. It feels right to tell her all of this.
“I gotta get back.”
“Feel free to text me whenever you have the time. And don’t forget our mutual time killing.”
He is full on smirking, staring at the comforter over his long legs, but in his mind he is picturing her in her scrubs, hair messy, a tired smile, but still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.
“Of course. Can’t wait already,” she answers and her usual confidence is finally back in her tone. “Bye, Harry.”
“Bye, Y/N.”
***
Thursdays are usually tough for Harry and his team. They start at the gym at 6.30 in the morning, have a practice from 8 and return for a second practice at 3 in the afternoon. Thursdays leave him sore, but it’s the good kind that makes him feel alive.
Thursdays are also his favorites, because after their afternoon practice the youth team takes the ice, a bunch of kids around the age of six to eight, die hard hockey fans and they all love to see the pro team on the ice before their practice starts. They usually hoard next to the board and watch them with bright eyes. When the pro team skates off the ice they always bump fists with the kids who squeal from excitement every time.
It’s adorable and always a great reminder of why he loves to do it so much.
Today as Harry skates his last lap on the ice the kids are already flowing in from the lockers, their coach coming behind and then he does a double take at the other adult stepping in.
Y/N follows the team with a sweet, bright smile, almost making Harry smash into Mitch on their way off the ice. She catches the shock on his face and chuckles to herself.
“Hi Harry!” one of the kids, Justin beams as he steps off the ice. Harry smiles at the boy, but his gaze quickly flickers back to the woman behind the group.
“Hello boys, ready to take the ice?” he grins and they all cheer.
“We have a present today!” Noah, a small, but mighty boy tells Harry. The boy next to him pokes his elbow into Noah’s arm.
“Not a present, a presentation.”
“Dr. Y/L/N is talking about injury prevention and recovery basics for the boys today,” coach Miller adds to clarify what they are talking about.
“Is that so?” Harry grins, arching an eyebrow at Y/N. The boys start to spill onto the ice and Y/N steps closer to Harry. “Fancy seeing you around here, Doc.”
“Thought I might surprise you.” She is trying not to smile wide, but it’s basically impossible. The air is buzzing around them.
In his skates, Harry is a lot taller than her and she can’t stop staring at his damp, sweaty hair and pleased smirk he is looking down at her with.
“Can I listen to the presentation as well?” he asks, stepping just a tad bit closer than what’s considered friendly, but he can’t find the urge to be as close to her as possible.
“Sure,” she shrugs, like it’s no big deal, though her heart starts hammering in her chest at the thought of Harry watching her.
“Dr. Y/L/N!” coach Miller calls out, signaling that it’s time for her to join the team.
“Coming!” she replies, but keeps her eyes on Harry as she walks past him.
Harry practically runs to the back, tearing his gear off and hurrying to take a shower. He is out in record time, while his teammates are still lingering around. He ignores the whistles from them as he rushes back out to the ice.
Harry slows his steps as he approaches the boards, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. The kids are already gathered in a semi-circle on the ice, helmets on, sticks resting in front of them as they listen. Y/N stands in front of them, a clipboard in her hands, posture relaxed but confident.
“Alright, so first things first,” she starts, her voice carrying easily across the rink, “who here has ever fallen on the ice?”
Every single hand shoots up immediately. Some kids start telling about the times they fell, but the coach quickly quiets them. Harry huffs out a quiet laugh under his breath, leaning his forearms against the glass.
“Then you already know that falling is part of the game. But what we don’t want is getting hurt because we’re not paying attention to our bodies.” She crouches down slightly so she’s more at their level, gesturing to one of the boys. “What’s your name?”
“Ethan,” the boy mumbles.
“Alright, Ethan. Let’s say you fall and your wrist hurts. What do you do?”
“Keep playing?” he guesses. A few other kids nod in agreement, while Harry shakes his head lightly, but they are not paying attention to him this time. All eyes are on Y/N.
Y/N smiles gently, shaking her head. “That’s what a lot of people think you should do. But the right answer is, you tell your coach. Or you take a break.” She taps her temple lightly. “Being tough isn’t ignoring pain. Being smart is knowing when something’s wrong.”
Harry’s expression shifts as he watches her. The teasing, confident doctor is still there, but this is a different version of her. Softer, even more patient, completely in her element and he can’t look away.
She moves through a few more points, hydration, stretching, how important rest is, keeping it simple, engaging the kids, making them laugh when they get things wrong and praising them when they get it right.
At one point, one of the boys points past her, right at Harry.
“Harry! Have you had any injuries?” the boy asks, suddenly all heads turn in his direction. He wasn’t planning on participating in the session, but now he feels like he has to. Y/N looks at him with a soft, encouraging smile to speak up on his experiences.
“Of course,” he nods, clearing his throat. “Some of those were treated by dr. Y/L/N,” he adds and the boys gasp in surprise.
“And did you take my advice seriously after your injury?” she asks, arching an eyebrow at him.
“Very seriously,” he nods. “Players want to get back on the ice as soon as possible, but without risking another, maybe even more serious injury. And that can be avoided by following what doctors tell you. Sometimes it might be hard to just sit and wait for your body to heal, but it’s the most important thing.”
The boys all nod with serious expressions. It seems like his words landed.
Y/N talks a little more about some recent cases she treated while the kids listen eagerly, then it’s time for the actual practice.
“Alright,” she claps her hands lightly. “One last question: what’s the most important thing you do if something hurts?”
“Tell someone!” they shout in unison.
“Exactly,” she nods. “And take care of your bodies, because you only get one.” She straightens, brushing her hands together. “Okay, Coach, they’re all yours.”
The boys scatter back into formation, buzzing with energy as Y/N gets off the ice and walks over to Harry.
“Didn’t know you do… this,” Harry tilts his head to the side, unsure what to call her appearance.
“I used to volunteer at a youth organization for recovering young athletes when I was a resident. I don’t have much time anymore, but I still do a few talks like this.”
She is talking very indifferently, like it’s no big deal, but he can tell it’s something she enjoys very much.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he asks with a small smile.
“Just wanted to surprise you,” she shrugs, blinking up at him.
“It did surprise me, almost took out Mitch with me when I saw you.”
“Good thing a doctor would have already been here,” she smirks and that pulls a laugh out of him. She checks the time with a soft sigh. “I have to head to the hospital, my shift is starting soon.”
“Did you drive here?” She nods. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
She doesn’t protest. Harry swings his big sports bag over his shoulder and the two of them head out to the parking lot while Harry asks her about her volunteering work.
“Are we still on for tomorrow?” he asks once they reach her car.
“Of course,” she nods confidently.
“Good. I’ll pick you up at six.”
“Okay,” she smiles and they linger for a few more seconds, just looking at each other, neither of them moving, like they’re both waiting for something neither of them is quite ready to do yet.
Then she gets in her car. She waves through the window and then Harry watches her drive away before heading over to his own car.
***
Friday feels like Christmas for Harry. It’s stupid, really. He’s had bigger games or events where more were at stake, but none of those made him feel this restless. He checks the time more than usual, moves through his morning routine on autopilot, already thinking about six o’clock.
About her, to be precise.
This is not a date, just like they agreed. On their first official date he will go all out, but still, this is almost a date. Mutual time killing.
He’s been buzzing all day and his teammates noticed the change in him at practice as well, but he didn’t let their teasing ruin his good mood.
In the afternoon, he changes clothes at least three times, unsure what to wear. His plan is to pick Y/N up, go to an art gallery that features young local artists’ work, something Y/N mentioned to be close to her heart, and then they would grab dinner at a small Indian restaurant he knows well and loves so much. Nothing fancy, but he knows she’ll love it.
He is planning his route to her place when a text pops up from her.
I’m so sorry to do this, but I can’t go tonight.
His stomach drops, staring at the message and he feels like a kid whose candy was just taken away from him. He swallows a small lump in his throat as he intends to reply when another message appears in the thread.
I’m sick, I have a fever, can’t even get out of bed. I’m so sorry Harry!
And now his heart breaks for her, knowing she is alone while feeling so awful and he is guessing she waited until the very last minute to cancel, hoping she would get better but it probably just got worse.
In just a second, a plan forms in Harry’s head and grabbing his keys he is out the door almost instantly.
***
Y/N feels like absolute shit. Her body feels on fire, not just from the fever, but her joints are burning up as well, making herself feel like a pile of rocks. She had to change her sheets once today, because she woke up from her nap drenched in sweat, but she hasn’t been able to move since then. She hasn’t felt this bad in a long time.
And in addition, she is devastated she had to cancel on Harry. He hasn’t replied to her texts and deep down she is afraid he is hurt. Maybe he thinks she was just toying with him, baiting him with a date and then canceling on him last minute but really, she tried everything she could today to get herself feel well enough to go, but she had to realize that it was not happening.
She whimpers as she turns on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable pose, but nothing feels right anymore. She absolutely hates being sick, always did, as a kid she wanted to be back in school as fast as possible.
Her eyes fall closed, though she doesn’t think she’ll be able to fall asleep, but keeping them open feels like too much energy. That’s when she hears the knock.
At first she thinks she just imagined it, but then she hears it again. With a tired sigh she climbs out of bed, thinking maybe it’s her elderly neighbor, Maria who often asks her for help, but there’s no way she can help Maria haul her cat off the top of the shelves today. Biscuit will have to spend the night up there if it’s up to Y/N.
But when she opens the door it’s definitely not Maria. Harry is standing there, with a big brown paper bag in his arms looking at her with soft eyes.
“Harry, what… Did you not get my text?” she asks, suddenly panicking that he came to pick her up. Also, the thought that she probably looks awful creeps into her mind, but there’s nothing she can do about that now either.
“I did. I came to take care of you. Can I come in?” He flashes a shy, boyish smile at her that totally melts her heart and even if she looks like garbage, there’s no way she is sending him away. Instead, she steps aside and lets Harry into her small apartment.
The place looks like a mess, not just because she’s been in bed all day, but because she hasn’t had a minute to clean up in the past week with the long hours she spent at the hospital. She winces, from the pain in her achy joints and from the embarrassment as well.
“Sorry, let me just…” She starts to pick up clothes from the floor, but Harry is quick to stop her. He places the bag he brought onto the kitchen counter and then takes her hands to stop her from grabbing anything else.
“Y/N, get back to bed, okay? I don’t care if there’s a mess. You need to rest. I brought you soup and some medicine, I’ll bring everything to bed for you, okay?”
She opens her mouth to protest, but the look on Harry’s face tells her not to even try to fight him. All she ate today was crackers and a yoghurt, that soup is saving her life right now.
“Okay,” she whispers with a thankful, but tired smile before giving up and returning to her bed.
She barely makes it back to bed before collapsing into it, pulling the blanket up to her chin as a shiver runs through her. A moment later she hears Harry shuffling in the kitchen, cupboards opening, something clinking softly. It feels strange, having someone in her space, but knowing that it’s Harry is also oddly… comforting.
“Alright,” his voice comes from the doorway a minute later. She opens her eyes to find him standing there with a tray. Soup, a glass of water, and a small pile of medicine. Her chest tightens a little at the sight.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” she murmurs, her voice rough.
“I know,” he shrugs lightly, setting the tray down on her nightstand. “Wanted to.”
She sits up with a soft groan, leaning against the headboard as Harry sits on the edge of the mattress next to her hips.
“Careful,” he murmurs when he sees her wince a little, his hand coming to her leg over the blanket, but even through the thick fabric, his touch sends a silver down her spine. Then his hand is gone and for a second she wishes he would touch her again.
“Here,” he says, handing her the spoon. “Try this first.”
She takes a small sip, the warmth immediately spreading through her, and she lets out a quiet hum.
“Oh my God.”
“Good?” he grins. “My mum’s recipe.”
“You made this?” she asks with wide eyes, taking another spoonful of it into her mouth. Harry nods with a proud smile. “Marry me.”
He laughs softly.
“Bit soon, don’t you think?”
She gives him a weak smile, taking another spoonful.
“You showed up with soup. That’s already better than most men.”
“The bar is that low, huh?”
“You’d be surprised,” she says with a look over the bowl of soup in her hands. He watches her for a moment as she eats, his expression softening again when he notices how slow her movements are.
“Did you take anything for the fever?” he asks. She shakes her head.
“I have nothing and didn’t have the energy to go out and get supplies.”
“Good thing I did, then,” he says, already reaching for the medicine. “Take this.”
She obeys without hesitation and even notes in her mind that he brought the kind of medicine she usually takes and recommends for her patients as well.
Silence settles around them as she returns to eating.
“You should have told me earlier, you know. I would have understood,” he softly tells her. She frowns at the soup.
“I know,” she murmurs. “I just… didn’t want you to think I was making excuses.”
“Why would I think that?” His voice is soft, not accusing at all.
She just shakes her head embarrassed and Harry doesn’t push it. He studies her for a moment, like he’s trying to understand something she’s not saying out loud. Then he leans back slightly, resting his hands on the mattress beside him.
“Well,” he says lightly, though there’s something more grounded underneath, “next time, you tell me sooner. I’ll just come over earlier.”
Her lips twitch.
“Bold of you to assume there’ll be a next time.”
He glances at her, arching an eyebrow playfully.
“Oh, there will be.”
She huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head, but she doesn’t argue. Because the truth is… she kind of wants there to be. She wants someone to take care of her the way she takes care of everyone. No, not just someone, she wants Harry to take care of her and make her feel special.
She finishes a few more spoonfuls before her energy starts to fade again, her grip on the spoon loosening slightly. Harry notices immediately.
“Alright,” he murmurs, gently taking the bowl from her hands before she can protest. “That’s enough for now.”
“I can finish it,” she mumbles weakly.
“I know,” he nods, setting the bowl aside. “But you don’t have to. Why don’t you take a nap? The medicine should kick in soon.”
She obeys again, sliding down until her head hits the pillow.
“I’m really sorry, Harry,” she breathes out, eyes falling closed.
“Nothing to be sorry about. Now rest,” she hears his soft voice, but can’t get herself to open her eyes. He takes the half empty bowl and she faintly feels his fingers gently dance down the side of her face before he leaves the room. Outside she hears him shuffling around and for a second she wonders what he is doing, but she is just so tired and sleep takes her fast.
The room is dark when she wakes up next. Her fever feels to be gone and the pain in her body has eased. She still feels lightheaded, but much better.
Grabbing her phone from the nightstand she checks the time. It’s four in the morning, which means she’s been sleeping for about ten hours. That hasn’t happened in probably… a decade.
Dragging herself out of bed she heads to the kitchen and it only then occurs to her that before she fell asleep, Harry was still there. Now the apartment felt quiet. Lonely. But she notices a few things.
The dishes are washed and put away, the kitchen counter was wiped clean. On the couch her scrubs sit, folded and piled, they’d been sitting in the dryer before. The floor looks clean as well, like it’s been vacuumed, but she doesn’t remember waking up to the sound of it. Opening the fridge she finds not just the leftover soup, but some takeaway boxes as well, enough to let her feast on them for the next about two days.
Harry Styles is an angel. Y/N is sure of that. And when she finds a little note on the counter, she knows she is damned.
Eat the food in the fridge and drink lots of water. I stocked your medicine cabinet. I have practice tomorrow, but call me if you need anything, I’m flying out early on Sunday. Get better! :) -H
She rereads it a couple of times before putting it on her fridge with a magnet. She takes a step back and looks at it among the polaroid photos and colorful magnets she keeps on the fridge. A slow smile tugs on her lips, seeing his handwriting surrounded with the photos of her favorite moments with her friends and family. It looks like it belongs there. Like Harry belongs in her life, and that’s terrifying and exciting at the same time.
But one thing she knows for sure is that despite her no athletes rule, she is very much falling for Harry.
***
They won the game and now they are closer to the Cup than probably in a decade. Yet, Harry feels disappointed in himself. After an unfortunate encounter with the other team’s center, his knee got a hit that left it throbbing. The team’s doctor checked it and while it’s nothing serious, he will have to skip the next game which is the one that will decide whether they get to play for the Cup or not. Harry doesn’t want to miss this last face-off, but he knows better than to play with a possible career-ruining injury. It’s just frustrating, not being able to be there on the ice right before the finish line.
He is walking out of the terminal with a small limp, barely noticeable, but it’s screaming at him. His phone buzzes and he finds a spot on the side as he pulls it out, a smile instantly stretching across his face when he sees who it is from.
Are you back in town?
He texted through the past few days with Y/N almost nonstop. He kept checking in on her, though she quickly recovered thanks to all the medicine he got her and the food to nourish her back to life.
Just landed.
Harry puts on his sunglasses and heads out to haul a ride for himself when Y/N’s next message appears.
Need a ride?
He stops in his tracks, rereading the text with a puzzled look before looking up, a buzzing feeling washing over his body. He doesn’t see her right away, but then his eyes spot her standing next to her car in the parking lot, smiling at him with her phone in her hand and Harry’s heart jumps out of his chest.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, walking up to her. Without thinking he wraps her in his arms in a tight hug.
It surprises her, they have never hugged before and Harry’s size compared to her is kind of intimidating but it also feels very… natural, being this close to him.
“Thought you might need a ride. I used up some favors and got my shift covered,” she says as they let go of each other. For a split second she thinks his cheeks are pink, but he stands so confidently in front of her, it seems impossible that he got flustered.
“Wait, so you’re free tonight?” he beams, putting two and two together. She nods with a shy smile.
“I was thinking that… I wanted to make up for our cancelled mutual time killing.”
Harry thinks his heart is about to jump right out of his chest and into Y/N’s hands. The thought that she went through the trouble to change up her pretty strict shift just so she can spend time with him to make up for something that wasn’t even her fault… He is about to be head over heels very soon.
“And what’s the plan?” he asks, grinning like an idiot probably, but he doesn’t mind.
“Um, I saw that you got injured, so I was thinking that we could go to your place, I brought some gel that’s really good for that kind of injury and I was planning to cook for us and we could watch a movie or something…” The longer she is talking the more nervous she is getting, almost regretting coming up with this idea, but then Harry steps closer and reaching up he tugs her hair behind her ear, this small little gesture making her stomach somersault.
“That sounds amazing,” he smiles softly. “Thank you.”
She nods, relieved.
Harry loads his bag into the trunk and then they are on their way to his place.
His home is kind of exactly how Y/N imagined it to be, a stylish penthouse with an interior straight out of a magazine, but it also has a certain charm that makes it look homey and warm. Maybe it’s the photos scattered everywhere of Harry with friends and family, maybe it’s the art pieces that just fit his personality so well, she doesn’t know, but it’s very him.
“Alright. You just go and rest and I’ll do the cooking,” Y/N tries to order him, but he is quick to protest.
“No, I want to help!”
“That’s not the plan and you need to rest.”
“Okay, but I want to spend time with you,” he softly adds and it melts her.
“You can sit there,” she nods towards the stools by the kitchen island. Harry can work with that, nodding he climbs on the closest one to her and watches her unpack everything she brought. Harry rests his elbows on the counter, watching her move around his kitchen like she’s done it before, like she belongs there and it does something strange, but pleasant to his chest.
“You’ve done this before?” he asks teasingly, nodding toward the way she’s already found a knife, a pan, moving with quiet confidence. She glances over her shoulder.
“Cooked? Yeah, occasionally,” she smiles. I don’t only live off coffee and granola bars.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
She rolls her eyes lightly, chopping vegetables with a little more force than necessary.
“You try working a double shift in the ER and then tell me what you eat.”
“Fair,” he chuckles.
A comfortable silence settles between them again, filled only with the soft sounds of cooking. Harry watches her longer than he probably should. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the way she pauses to taste something, frowning slightly before adding more spice. The way she looks so relaxed, missing that exhaustion that’s usually hidden in her expression when they meet during her shifts.
She catches him watching her, a nervous smile curling her lips.
“What?”
“Nothing, just… you look different,” he shrugs. Her brows knit together.
“Different how?”
“Less…” He searches for the word. “Tense, I guess.”
She huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah, well. I’m not at work and no one’s actively dying, so that helps.”
He smiles, but there’s something softer underneath it.
“I like this version of you.”
She smiles down at her hands.
“Is there a version you don’t like?” she asks teasingly, feeling a little cheeky.
“No,” he answers right away, confidently, which just urges her smile to grow, though she tries to hide it. She fails at it. “I like every version of you.”
When the food is ready, tuscan chicken with brown rice, an easy but delicious recipe Y/N likes to cook, they take their full plates to the living room and eat on the couch so Harry could stretch his leg out on the sectional.
“Mm, fuck,” he groans, taking the first bite. “This is so good!”
“I’m glad you like it,” she chuckles shyly.
They eat in silence, well, Harry practically inhales the food and gets a second plate which Y/N insists on bringing to him so he doesn’t have to get up. She brings him a drink as well and once they are done she cleans up, even though Harry tries to beg for her not to. Peeking over the back of the couch he sees her move around in his kitchen with ease and something warm swells in his chest.
“Want to watch a movie?” she asks when she joins him again.
“Sure.”
They get into a bit of argument, deciding what to watch and at last they settle on an animated movie they both haven’t seen in ages. Then Y/N grabs the gel for his knee and settles next to him as he sits up straight.
“Alright, let me see that knee,” she nods at his leg. He is wearing a pair of joggers and it didn’t even occur to her how he’s going to free his knee, so when he lifts his hips and simply pushes his pants down her breath hitches for a second, seeing him in just his underwear. His strong, muscular thighs stretch in front of her and she spots a few tattoos on them. She feels the urge to not just look but ogle at them, but she clears her throat and tries to focus on her task, even though her thoughts wander to places they definitely shouldn’t.
His knee looks a bit swollen and bruised on the outside, but not too bad. She can tell it’ll be good as new in a couple of days if he rests it enough.
She smears some of the gel onto the reddened skin and Harry hisses a little at the sudden coldness of it.
“Sorry,” she chuckles softly.
“It’s okay,” he shakes his head, watching her spread it gently over his knee, pressing her fingers just enough into him that it feels nice.
When she’s done he pulls his pants up and she washes the gel off her hands before settling next to him on the couch. The movie is still playing in the background, but neither of them actually pays attention.
“What’s the worst injury you endured during your career?” she asks, sitting sideways, resting her elbow on the back of the couch, laying her head in her palm.
“Probably that concussion you treated,” Harry says. “And I had a broken collarbone when I was still in junior league. That was pretty tough.”
“Aren’t you afraid of getting hurt when you’re on the ice?” she frowns.
“Are you afraid of losing a patient enough not to even treat them?” he returns the question and Y/N smiles understandingly immediately, nodding her head.
They stay silent for a bit and Harry looks up at her in awe. She looks devastatingly beautiful, he thinks, but she always does. There was not a time he wasn’t taken aback by her beauty. The urge to touch her is growing, but he keeps his hands in his lap and just plays with the hem of his t-shirt instead, though he would rather be caressing her face or just place a hand on her knee or thigh that sits so close to him now.
“Remember what I told you about my ex?” she asks suddenly, eyes not meeting his.
“Yes,” he answers, jaw clenching. He remembers vividly how she told him that the idiot cheated on her.
“When he told me that he slept with someone else, he said that that’s just what pro athletes do, that it’s totally normal to sleep with others when they are away and that it was even more normal for us since we couldn’t spend as much time together even when he was home because of my schedule.”
Anger is bubbling in Harry’s chest and if that asshole was there, he would probably already be punching him in the face. But he also knows she didn’t tell him this to piss him off. It’s a silent question.
Would it be the same with you?
Harry pushes himself up a little straighter and turns his body towards her. Giving in to the urge he places a hand to her knee that’s almost bumping against her hip.
“Y/N, that was not normal. That’s not at all what most pro athletes do. Some maybe, but… Most of the guys I know are head over heels in love with their wives, the travelling is tough, but I often hear them say that when they get to meet their partner again it’s just so much better, like the anticipation was building up.”
Y/N nods and sniffles and Harry realises that she is crying. He moves his hand from her knee to her chin, lifting her head so she finally looks him in the eyes. A tear rolls down her cheek just then and Harry is quick to catch it.
“I know that we have this little game going on,” he starts with a charming smile that makes her chuckle as she blinks her tears away. “But I hope you know that I’m seriously so into you, Y/N, that when it comes to winning the Cup I’m more excited about our official date than the winning itself.”
“Wow, maybe don’t tell that to your fans,” she chuckles, sniffling some more and when she leans her head more into his touch his heart melts.
“If they knew what’s at stake, I think they would understand,” Harry smirks and he catches her trying to bite her own smile back. “But seriously,” he starts, tuning down the cheekiness. “I know it’s hard to trust just a promise, but I would be like my sappy teammates, yearning after their wives when we play away. I would think about you all the time, text you and call you and think of the next time I get to see you and when I finally do I would cherish the time I get to spend with you. You know how I know that?”
“How?” she asks, her voice barely more than just a whisper.
“Because that’s what I already do.”
That’s what breaks down the last bits of her self-control and hesitance. There’s no use denying it anymore, she wants him and she is done trying to talk herself out of him.
She shifts closer, stopping just an inch away from his face first, that’s when Harry realises what’s about to happen, so he pushes up a little more just as she moves closer, her nose brushing against his. His hand cups her cheek, thumb running across it gently, she hesitates just for a beat before finally pressing her lips against his.
For a split second it’s soft, tentative, almost questioning, but when Harry’s hand moves to the back of her head, tangling in her hair, it’s like a dam was broken. They hungrily take as much of each other as possible, Y/N is pushing against him until Harry grabs her by her waist and pulls her to his lap so she straddles him on the couch. He groans when their tongues meet, it’s such a delicious sensation to finally map her lips and mouth and tongue, it’s all he’s been dreaming of for weeks.
Y/N’s hands slip down to his chest, her palms eagerly feeling up the hard muscles under his t-shirt. She knows she’s been fighting her desires for Harry, but only now does she realise how much she wanted him and now she has him.
They vigorously make out for long minutes, tasting each other, but then they gradually slow down, Harry’s lips press a few more kisses to the corner of her mouth and her jawline before they pull apart at last.
“Well,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against hers, which makes her smile.
“Yeah,” she breathes out. “I guess I might be reconsidering my policy,” she jokes, making him laugh.
“Good,” he smiles, pressing a quick, softer kiss to her lips this time. “I won’t disappoint you, I promise.”
She wants to say I hope so, but then she listens to her heart and says: “I know.”
***
The arena is on its feet. The noise is deafening, fans screaming, pounding against the glass, the kind of energy that vibrates through bone and blood and makes it impossible to think about anything else. The feeling that’s Harry’s absolute favorite about hockey.
There’s less than a minute left on the clock and the game is tied. Harry’s lungs burn as he pushes himself harder, skating like his life depends on it, like this moment is everything he’s worked for since he first stepped onto the ice as a kid.
Then the puck slides across the rink and he has an opportunity to take it. He doesn’t hesitate. He moves fast, speeding right past the defense and takes the puck. The crowd starts roaring wildly.
“Go! Go! Go!” the chanting rings through his ears, but then it all tunes out and the only thing he sees is the puck and the net.
The goalie drops low, preparing for his shot and for a second Harry feels like he can see the future, where the goalie will move, so he shoots to the opposite corner of the net and–
The puck shoots right to the back of the net.
The arena explodes, a horn blares, teammates shouting, fans losing their minds as the realization hits all at once.
They did it.
He did it.
They won.
Harry barely registers the impact as his teammates crash into him, grabbing him, yelling in his ear, pure chaos erupting around him, he is not fully there, like he hasn’t processed that his team just won the Cup because of him.
But then his head quickly switches, eyes scanning the crowd, searching for a familiar face. And then he sees her. Down by the glass already, pushing through, Y/N’s eyes are wide, lit up with shock and pride, searching for him just as desperately. Without thinking, he pulls out of the group, ignoring the protests, the hands trying to drag him back into the celebration.
“Harry, where are you–” He faintly hears Mitch asking, but he is already skating towards her.
Security hesitates when they see her trying to get through, holding her back just as Harry reaches the glass.
“Let her through!” he shouts, hanging over the boards. “She’s with me, let her through!”
The security guards step aside and she is running over to him. Then she’s right there, in front of him, a little breathless, but laughing with teary eyes.
“Hi,” she breathes out, while the fans are still screaming around them. Harry lets out a disbelieving breath, shaking his head.
“Hi.”
And then he grabs her by the waist, pulling her closer and kissing her hard and she doesn’t hesitate before returning it. The crowd somehow gets even louder, feeding off the moment, cameras flashing, people screaming as they watch it unfold. But Harry doesn’t care.
Y/N laughs against his lips, breathless, overwhelmed, her hands gripping onto him tightly. Then suddenly, he is hauling her up and over the boards, she screams in surprise, but Harry just smirks. Her feet barely touch the ice before he’s picking her up again, spinning her around as he skates, the world around them still erupting in celebration.
“Are you insane?” she laughs, clutching onto him, half terrified, half amused.
“Probably!” he grins, holding her tighter as he glides across the ice with her in his arms. His teammates whistle and shout as they pass, hyping him up even more.
“Atta boy, Harry!”
“Way to celebrate!”
Y/N buries her face into his shoulder for a second, laughing uncontrollably, completely swept up in it all.
He slows eventually, but doesn’t put her down. He doesn’t want to, not ever. Instead he just pulls back and smirks at her with glinting eyes.
“I guess we have a date happening.”
Her grin grows wide as she sighs.
“Fucking finally.”
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
Request: She offers to play Minecraft as a date night for her birthday and build a house together on there, surviving and completing the game together. But Harry assumes she means actually building a house together and asks her interior design questions, after a bit of explaining what she meant he agrees to it and asks if it’s a scary game, even though she hates scary games more than he ever will. She loves Minecraft, never plays with mobs on because it gets scary and plays with keep inventory because then she can build better houses. Harry is very polite with his questioning even though he’s a little confused on how the game works. Even though he would have been a teenager when the game came out it would confuse him because he never played it and assumed Minecraft was a very serious mining game not what she used it for (getting cats and building houses with lots of plant pots)
A/N: I do not know much about Minecraft, so apologies if it's inaccurate or not what you wanted. 💕
Summary: After realising they haven't actually saved the world, the group are forced to grapple with their impending doom while surviving a city full of Ice Nation warriors out for blood. *yn* makes a deal to save her people, while also trying to save herself from falling apart.
Warnings/tags: emotional trauma from me returning after a four year hiatus?, blood, mentions and descriptions of death, angst, emotional trauma, slight mentions of alcoholism, violence, swearing
Notes: Based on 4x01 “Echoes” of The 100.
‘Privileged’ Masterlist
Clarke's lips were moving, words spilling out in hushed, urgent whispers after Bellamy had demanded an explanation.
Nuclear reactor meltdowns. Acid rain and storms. The end of the world within six months.
*yn* just knelt on the cold floor numbly, knees pressed into stone she could no longer feel. Her eyes never left Elijah's motionless body splayed out at her feet.
She was still waiting for him to move. For his chest to rise. A finger to twitch. For him to sit up and laugh at the look on her face and question how she could ever think he was dead.
"Can I check to make sure you're ok?"
She felt a hand settle on shoulder as Abby appeared in her peripheral vision.
"I'm fine."
She didn't recognise the voice that came out of her. It was flat and cold, borderline robotic.
"You nearly died." Abby gently reminded her.
*yn* finally turned to look at her at that.
"We all nearly died." She said, her gaze sharp. "And plenty of others actually did."
Abby didn't say anything. She only offered a small, resigned nod before retreating from her unsuccessful mission.
*yn* forced herself to look down at the man in front of her once more. She tried to still her trembling hands as they reached for him, fingers hovering for a moment as if she avoided it, it might delay the inevitable.
With a featherlight touch, she closed Elijah's eyes. His skin was already cool to the touch.
"Yu gonplei ste odon." She whispered, brushing a thumb over his cheek.
She rose to her feet without another word. She could feel the weight of every person's eyes on her - like they were waiting with baited breath for her to break again.
Her cheeks felt heavy with tear stains still so fresh they hadn't yet dried. Her legs quivered like they might buckle again at any moment, but somehow, by some miracle she managed to make them move.
Without another look, she made a beeline for the exit, following the path Octavia had taken only minutes earlier.
A hand firmly grasped Bellamy's arm as he moved to follow her. "Let her go." Clarke said quietly. "You know if you push her too quickly she'll push you back out even harder."
Bellamy didn't answer, but the way his body stilled indicated he knew that Clarke was right. She was the only person who knew *yn* just as well as he did.
He felt helpless as he watched her leave. He could feel the invisible string connecting them pulling taught with every step she took. All he could hope was that she wouldn't let it snap.
He could deal with the news of the inevitable end of the world, but losing her again?
That was something he wasn't sure his body would let him bear.
-
Getting out of the tower was a terrible idea.
The second *yn* stepped out into the blinding daylight, the stench hit her - metallic, sour, all too familiar. Death. Blood caked the ground, pooling in every crack and crevice. The wails of the grieving had started, raw and unrestrained, people walking around in a daze as they tried to understand what had just happened.
She stepped over the bodies, sliding straight into the chaos. Grounders glanced up at her as she passed, then gave her a second and then a third look.
The air shifted. Their stares hardened.
"Malak al maut."
She stopped. A woman crouched over the body of a young girl was the first to say her name. *yn* leant down, extending her hand on instinct, to offer her aid, comfort, solidarity - like she'd done a hundred times before.
"You did this." The woman spat out. "You and Wanheda."
She didn’t flinch. Instead, she slowly retracted her hand - like someone trying to avoid being bitten by a viper. Her emotionless stare did nothing to quell the low murmuring swelling around her.
From a distance, Clark and Bellamy watched her.
They could tell she was trying to maintain the perfect picture of composure, but she looked more like someone about to go into nervous shock. They knew she was dangling on the precipice again, so close to teetering off the edge a faint breeze might send her plummeting.
"She'll be ok. She always is."
"We always say that." Bellamy answered, his words coming out harsher than he'd intended. "But how much can one person take Clarke?" His voice cracked unexpectedly.
Clarke turned to him. "We'll get through this. All of us." The words felt thin, even to her.
She exhaled. "But in the meantime, we have to figure out how we're going to tell these people that they're about to die in the next six months."
"We don't." He answered immediately. "Not until we know ALIE was telling you the truth."
"She was telling the truth."
Bellamy dragged a hand down his face, his eyes never leaving *yn*'s figure ahead of them. "Then we wait until we figure out a plan. We gave them back their pain, let's not add to it by telling them they're going to die in six months."
Clarke hesitated, then nodded reluctantly in agreement.
"Good." He continued. "*yn* will be on board too. Once everyone's down we go home and get to work."
Before Clarke could respond, shouts for assistance cut through the noise.
*yn* took off in an instant. Clarke and Bellamy exchanged glances.
"You get in contact with Raven." Clarke pushed the radio into Bellamy's hand. "I'll help her."
Bellamy shot *yn* one last look before relenting, leaving Clarke to chase after her.
The two Ice Nation warriors who had been calling for help slowed when they recognised *yn*. She knelt as they began to ease the body they were carrying to the ground.
The man's head lolled to the side. It was caked in blood and dirt, obscuring his features, but she recognised him in an instant.
Something stirred in her, slipping through the cracks of her hastily built walls. Fear. Just a flicker, but it pulsed through her once as his name left her lips.
"Roan."
He needed a doctor, he needed -
Abby rushed to kneel down beside her before her mouth could even begin to form the first syllable of her name. Clarke and Kane were not far behind.
"He got shot trying to help me." Clarke shook her head in disbelief. "I thought he was dead."
*yn* cradled his head as Abby pressed her fingers against his neck.
"Not yet." Abby said grimly. "But he's close."
*yn* shifted his body to the side so they could look at his back. "No exit wound." She observed.
"We need to get the bullet out. And quick, before-"
"Get away from our king."
Cold steel kissed *yn*'s skin. She tensed as the flat edge of the blade pressed against her neck, drawing a thin line. She raised her hands up as the owner of the blade pulled her up onto her feet.
"Wait please-" Clarke began. *yn* flashed her a warning glance as she took a step towards them.
"You're making a mistake. We're part of the coalition." Kane urged.
She was now eye to eye with her captor. Echo. She saw the hint of recognition in Echo's eyes as she pushed the blade deeper into her neck.
Another emotion surged past her mental barriers. But this time it was one she was happy to embrace. Rage.
"Long time no see Malak al maut." Echo mused.
Flashes of Mount Weather came back to her. The assassin. Gina. Echo's smirk as she convinced everyone to leave the bunker defenceless.
"We can save him." Abby spoke.
*yn* could see her own people swarming around them, guns raised. The sound of metal being unsheathed behind her indicated Echo had her own army at her back too.
"We have our own healers."
She began barking commands but *yn* was only able to grasp a few words here and there - something about taking Roan to where they buried their dead.
"He's not dead you idiots." She snarled.
"Echo!"
*yn* watched helplessly as Bellamy pushed his way through the throng of people, fury blazing in his eyes as they locked onto the blade at her throat.
"Bellamy don't." She tried her best to make it sound like an order and less of a plea, with little success.
She hated how it hurt to even look at him, let alone say his name.
"Let her go Echo!"
"Back off Bellamy."
Clarke and Kane held Bellamy back as he desperately tried to move towards the pair.
"Listen to me." *yn* said calmly, forcing her voice to remain steady. "We can save your king ok? Just let me go. There's been enough death today."
Echo's gaze locked onto her.
"I don't know why." She said slowly. "But Roan admired you." Her gaze shifted to Clarke. "And I saw your friend in the City of Light. I know you saved us."
The pressure vanished as the blade slid away from her neck.
Echo shoved her forward. "Consider this my thank you."
Bellamy's hands found her waist as she stumbled forward. She instinctively reached out to balance herself, glancing up at him as he held her firm. Elijah's lifeless eyes stared back.
She tried to ignore the feeling of his fingers almost desperately trying to hold onto her as she pulled herself away from him.
"Look around you." Echo gestured to the devastation around them as she addressed her people. "Skaikru did this to us. Because of them Ontari your rightful commander, is dead. This imposter stole her Flame."
"No." Kane stepped forward. "Wanheda saved us. All of us. Grounders and Skaikru."
"There wouldn't be anything to save us from if not for you."
"Azgeda has no authority here." *yn* cut in, her eyes simmering as she glared at the woman in front of her.
"We do now." Echo replied coldly. "In the name of King Roan, as rightful caretakers of the throne of the commanders, Polis is now under Azgeda rule."
"Like hell it is." A grounder that *yn* didn't recognise appeared. She was an older woman, with an air of authority *yn* knew only came with being a clan leader or an ambassador.
"Where's your war chief, girl?"
"Our war chief is dead, ambassador. As a member of the queen's guard, command of this army has fallen to me until the king awakens."
"If he awakens." The woman glanced around at her captive audience. "Until a new commander can ascend, Polis will be ruled by ambassadors of the coalition. If Azgeda wants it, they must take it by force."
The whir of metal slicing through air, and then flesh, rung out. Silence followed.
*yn* watched as a red line split cleanly across the ambassadors throat. The sound of her lifeless body crumpling to the ground rung out.
"Consider it taken." Echo snarled. Her blade splayed out at her side, dripping with crimson.
"No Skaikru leaves this city."
*yn* let out a sigh.
"Maybe we won't have to wait for the radiation to take us out."
"Any others?"
"That's the last I could find."
*yn* nodded, ushering the last of her people through the narrow opening behind the temple altar. The hidden tunnel swallowed them one by one, shadows folding around familiar faces until they disappeared completely.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"
"Lead them home, Major. We'll be there as soon as we can." Kane answered, grasping the Major's hand in a firm shake.
*yn* nodded to convey her thanks before he disappeared into the darkness.
Her gaze lingered on her dad a beat too long, and then she saw it. The way his jaw tightened, fingers instinctively moving to touch an injury to his wrist. She wasn't the only one who noticed.
*yn* pressed herself back against a wall as Abby crossed the room, zeroing in on his injury immediately. She turned her head away as Abby took his arm, murmuring reassurances, fussing over him with a tenderness that felt almost intrusive in the middle of everything else.
Elijah's body had been left somewhere up above them. The thought lodged painfully behind her ribs. He was up there defenceless and unprotected. Was he being stepped over? Tossed onto a pile like the rest of the other dead? Lost in the sea of bodies drowning this city, never to be found again, never to be given a proper goodbye?
Her throat tightened.
The door opened, pulling her free from the spiral she was teetering on the edge of.
Indra's eyes met hers. Relief flickered across her face briefly as *yn* moved forward to meet her in the centre of the room. Indra's eyes were suddenly darting everywhere, assessing her features, taking in her sunken eyes and sallow complexion.
She barely recognised the girl who stared back.
Indra pulled her into a brief but tight embrace. *yn* let herself squeeze back, gripping onto the familiar strength like an anchor.
"Well?" *yn* heard Clarke murmur to Bellamy.
"You're not going to like it."
"When you destroyed the City of Light there were a thousand Azgeda warriors inside the city of Polis." As she spoke, Indra brushed a hand over *yn*'s cheek, her body blocking her sign of affection from everyone else in the room.
"Great timing." Octavia remarked.
"The only way to remove them, is by force."
"Then let's remove them."
"Slow down." Abby glared at Octavia. "You're talking about a war."
"Yes." Indra confirmed. "Most of the other clans will join Trikru without question, but we'll still be short."
"This is insane." Abby shook her head. "We should be leaving with the others."
"They'll just hunt us down and massacre us if we do." *yn* answered.
"How do we get the other clans to join us?" She directed her question at Indra.
"I can do it. But I need the Flame."
"No." Clarke didn't raise her voice, but her words were absolute.
"Clarke, the clans will follow whoever has the Flame-" Bellamy began.
"Azgeda won't." Clarke shot back.
"Then we fight." Octavia urged. *yn* didn't miss the blood thirsty glint in her eye.
"We don't have time for that." *yn* shook her head. "And we can't risk losing anymore people."
She locked eyes with Clarke.
Abby glanced between the two, immediately picking up on the energy between the two. "What don't we know?"
Clarke and *yn* exchanged another glance, this one laden with shared weight and dread. With a small nod of *yn*'s head, Clarke explained to the others what ALIE had told her - the nuclear reactors melting down, the radiation, the fact they all had sixth months to live.
It felt almost laughable hearing it a second time - bordering on absurd. As if the universe had grown bored and decided to pile on one final act of cruelty for good measure.
"Even if this is true, it's six months away." She said slowly as she tried to absorb the information Clarke had just delivered. "There are a thousand Azgeda warriors who want to kill us now."
"How can we be sure?" *yn* turned to her dad at that, her lips pressed firm in a straight line.
"Because I'll convince him too."
It wasn't said like it was a hope or a gamble - but as a fact. As something inevitable.
Kane studied her before darting to Bellamy's face.
Something unreadable flashed across it as he studied her.
Kane saw it. He knew there was much more to this than what was being said.
"Ok." Abby cleared her throat. "So how do we make sure Echo and her warriors don't kill us while we try and save him?"
"They won't kill us." Clarke answered, with the exact same calm confidence that *yn* had.
"How do you know?"
"Because she has a plan." *yn* cut in, observing her best friend. "Like she always does."
“Octavia’s in.”
*yn* tipped her head back, eyes tracking the length of the tower. It loomed impossibly high, its peak swallowed by cloud.
All they could do from down here was wait and hope that Clarke and Abby could save Roan in time.
Polis had grown dark, the torchlight washing everything in amber hues and shadows. The smoke from the torches curled lazily through the air.
She stole a glance at Bellamy. It felt like only yesterday that she had been admiring him by the campfire before they’d snuck away for the night. The memory burned. She wanted to grasp the yearning clawing at her chest and twist its head clean off.
“Never a dull moment huh?”
*yn*’s brow furrowed at the sight of Murphy.
“Where the hell have you been?”
She looked over his shoulder to catch movement behind him. The outline of a girl clinging to the shadows behind him, watching.
“Relax little miss privileged.”
She rolled her eyes. Whatever moment they’d shared earlier had been left in the gutter, the usual animosity back in full force.
“She’ll only talk to Bellamy.” Jaha interrupted.
*yn* scoffed, folding her arms in from of her chest.
“That tracks.”
“About time we saw that jealousy streak again." Murphy smirked. "I thought you’d lost the ability.”
If looks could kill, Murphy would be six feet under. He grinned at the familiar flare in her eyes. He would never say it out loud, but he was relieved to see the events that had just unfolded hadn’t snuffed out the rage that always bubbled just beneath the surface.
“Should we test to see if I’ve lost the ability to kick your ass?”
"Both of you, focus." Indra snapped.
Like chastised children, Murphy and *yn* shot eachother one last glare before relenting.
"Echo is dangerous." Indra turned back to Bellamy. "She's a member of the queen's guard, she's extremely loyal."
"Not to the people who saved her life." Bellamy muttered bitterly.
"Bellamy, I know how you feel about her." Kane shot *yn* an apologetic look. "But you need to keep your composure."
"Hard to do that when she nearly got my-" Bellamy cut himself off.
Grief flooded his features momentarily as he studied *yn* before he could stop it.
Sometimes when he looked at her, he could still see the bruises covering inch of her skin. He could feel the weight of her body in his arms as he the way he had to lift her into the bathtub. Mount Weather had been what had sealed their fate in some ways, the beginning of the end - when Pike learned how to weaponise Bellamy's fear of losing her, and Bellamy had started letting him.
That was what he saw and felt when he looked at Echo.
*yn* met his eyes, only briefly. He had the unnerving sense that she could hear every thought he hadn't yet said out loud.
"Offer her technology, guns, whatever you can to keep her talking." Kane said.
"Maybe not guns." *yn* murmured, lifting a brow.
"It won't get that far. Our objective is to buy time for Abby to save the king." Marcus looked at Murphy. "And if you want to help, grab a weapon. Take a post."
"Take mine." Bellamy slid his automatic from around his chest. Murphy blinked, he was surprised. And beneath that *yn* noted something else - fear.
"My my how times have changed." Murphy remarked dryly.
Bellamy glanced around the group, his eyes settling on *yn*.
"I got this." He said it to her directly, like there was no one else on this planet but her.
Murphy glanced between the pair, opting to keep his mouth shut this time as he observed their body language.
*yn* watched as Murphy's eyes darted behind him, his hands fidgeting nervously on the weapon.
"Wait." *yn* called to Murphy once the others ventured out of earshot.
She jerked her chin towards the shadows. "Go."
"If you're going to make a run for it, I'd rather you do it before you abandon your post." She explained when she saw the confusion on his face.
She hesitated for a moment but then nodded at the gun. "Keep it. You need something to protect her, god knows you won't be able to."
"How did-"
"Go." She insisted. "Before I change my mind."
Despite her hard exterior, Murphy knew that if he scraped just below the surface, he'd see the fragile shell of *yn* Kane underneath. Even now when she was trying to appear uninterested, he could see that her bottom lip was tremoring just slightly, betraying her.
He sent her one sharp nod, his grip on the gun tightening.
She didn't look back as he rushed past her, disappearing into the dark.
She inhaled sharply, squared her shoulders and followed after the others. She slid the handgun from her waistband and melted into the pillars. She settled on a spot that kept her hidden from view but provided her with a perfect range to fire if needed.
Her finger rested on the trigger as she watched Bellamy make his way out into the courtyard towards the Azgeda soldiers.
It instinctively pressed just a hair harder when Echo stepped into view.
She was too far away to hear anything, but even from this distance she could see Bellamy's shoulders tense as Echo came to a stop in front of him.
"What are the terms of your surrender?"
Bellamy gritted his teeth. It was taking every part of him not to pull out his gun and shoot her where she stood.
"We recognise Ice Nation rule." He forced out. "And you honour Lexa's coalition, including the thirteenth clan."
"No." Echo spoke, this time softer.
"We'll give you guns, show you how to use them."
Her eyes narrowed. "Trikru accepts this?"
"They're not happy about it."
"Not much they can do about that now is there." Echo's calculating gaze locked onto Indra. "Without an army."
Bellamy couldn't control his reaction, his mask slipping momentarily - just enough for Echo to switch her laser focus to him - like a lion stalking it's pray.
"You were there." The hint of surprise in her tone wounded Bellamy more than he thought it would.
He saw the way her face twisted, the way her body angled away from him slightly. She looked at him differently now, and he couldn't blame her for it.
"Is this why you and Malak al maut are not together?"
"We're not here to talk about her." Bellamy snapped.
Echo's face twisted with sick amusement. She'd found his weak spot. "You say that, but somehow it always ends up being about her. Roan's.... fascinated by her." This time, Echo was the one who couldn't subdue the bitterness poisoning her tone.
Her gaze drifted past his right shoulder, searching the shadows. *yn* would be here, she always was.
"Do you accept the terms or not?" Bellamy pushed.
"Everyone hates skaikru. We can never accept your terms."
"The alternative is war, is that really what you want?" Bellamy persisted.
"No one wants war." She shot back. "Lay down your guns, and we'll let your children live."
"I can't do that."
"I'll give you time to decide, consult with who's really in charge." Echo moved to turn around and before Bellamy could think through his decision - he lunged forward to grasp onto her arm.
"I wasn't done talking."
In a blink Echo had him shoved into the dirt, a knife gleaming in the torchlight pressed against his neck.
*yn* sprung up from from her spot in an instant, her gun aimed at Echo's head.
Echo smirked, finding her instantly. "Right on cue." Echo called out, loud enough for *yn* to hear.
"Guns on the ground or he dies." Echo demanded, shoving the blade further into his skin.
*yn* looked at Kane and Indra. She could make the shot easily, but then Bellamy would be lying within feet of a dozen raging Ice Nation warriors looking to enact revenge with no Echo to keep them in line.
She bit the inside of her cheek, knowing that they there were at an impasse. They just had to hope that Clarke and Abby had pulled through.
All she could do now was give Echo a distraction to prevent her from slaughtering them all here where they stood.
"Weapons on the ground." Kane ordered.
*yn* and the rest of her people complied, keeping her eyes locked on Echo.
"You might want to go check on your King." She drawled out as she raised her hands up in surrender.
Echo's eyes narrowed as she pulled Bellamy up onto his feet.
"Seize them." She ordered. "Malak al maut comes with us."
*yn* kept her face blank as two guards dragged her behind Echo, up into the tower.
Chaos was unfolding already when they arrived. Octavia, Clarke and Abby had been captured. There were too many bodies in the room for *yn* to find Roan's body. But judging by the state of things, they hadn't been successful.
"They were trying to kill the King." Echo declared as Bellamy and *yn* were shoved to their knees in front of her.
"No, we were trying to save him." Clarke responded desperately.
*yn* watched as Echo stalked forward, her fist tightening around the hilt of her blade.
"If you're going to kill anyone first, it should be me." *yn* spoke calmly. "Leave Wanheda for last. She's the most powerful."
"*yn*." Bellamy hissed, his eyes wide in shock.
Echo turned to look at her, letting out a dry chuckle. "If you insist."
Echo had barely lifted her blade when a deep voice rung out.
"Hod op."
The voice was deep, like it had been dragged through gravel.
All eyes fell on the King of Azgeda.
*yn*'s lips parted in surprise as she watched Roan sit up. Blood caked his exposed chest, his muscles rippled with exertion as he lifted himself up.
"My king." Echo bowed.
"Roan, help us." Clarke pleaded. "Tell them we're friends."
"You shouldn't try to stand so soon-" Abby winced as a guard shoved her harshly.
Roan coughed as he got up onto his feet. His body lunged forward as his legs nearly gave out, bracing himself on a crate before he could topple.
"Where's Ontari?" He rasped.
"Dead sire." Echo announced. "Killed by them."
Roan's eyes fixed on Clarke.
"We couldn't save her." Clarke explained. "But we did what we came here to do. Now I need you to honour your promise and protect my people."
"That was before your people shot me and killed my commander."
"We just saved your damn life." Octavia hissed.
Roan's eyes landed on *yn*. She'd been so uncharacteristically quiet that he hadn't even realised that she was here.
He studied her, like he was daring her to say something.
She simply glared back at him.
"Lock them up."
The shackles bit into her already bruised wrists, the rusted metal grinding against her skin with every small movement. The adrenaline that had carried her this far was finally burning out, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. It pressed on her chest, weighted her limbs, making her feel like she had a concrete block chained to her ankle.
“Hi.”
She swallowed and kept her eyes fixed out on the sliver of dawn visible through the barred windows.
“Hi.”
“I’ve been trying to keep my distance, to give you space.” She squeezed her eyes shut as Bellamy continued. “Because you look like you're about to break.”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t know why you still try and lie to me after all this time.”
Her bloodshot eyes finally met his.
Both his cheeks had been split open in the fight, dried blood tracing the cuts like a fault line.
She wanted to kiss them. She wanted to add more. She wanted to press her face against his and let their tears intertwine. She wanted to never cry again. She wanted to never let him go. She wanted to never see him again.
She wanted a drink - something strong enough to make everything quiet.
"*yn*-" His voice cracked. "Let me be here for you, please."
She looked out the window again. She couldn't bear looking at him any longer.
"I can't." She whispered.
"*yn*'-"
The cell door screeched open and guards poured in.
"Malak al maut. Get up."
"Where's the king?" Clarke demanded.
Echo strolled into the cell, watching as the guards roughly grabbed her. *yn* said nothing, her body limp as they unchained her from the wall.
"Hey!" Clarke continued.
She didn't flinch as a hessian bag was yanked over her head, plunging her vision into darkness.
"Stop!" She could hear the protests of the others around her as she was shoved forward.
"Echo! Echo listen to me!" Bellamy's voice cut through it all, raw and desperate, crackling like static in her ears.
Slowly, the voices faded.
*yn* remained compliant as they dragged her through twisting corridors, each turn stealing what little sense of direction she had left.
Finally, they came to a stop. She squinted as the bag was ripped from her head, blinding her with sunlight.
"Malak al maut, as requested."
She blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted. Echo was to her left. In front of her, seated on a makeshift throne, was Roan.
He was dressed this time. An intricate crown made of bleached bones and ivory was placed on his head. Flecks of blood still peppered his face, stark against his tanned skin.
"Shall I summon the war chiefs?" Echo asked in her native tongue, unable to hide the eagerness in her question.
Roan's eyes never left her. She felt a touch of fear ghost up her spine.
"No."
"Sire-"
"Get out."
*yn* glanced at Echo, a faint smirk on her lips as she watched Echo ground her teeth in frustration.
She stayed cemented to her spot as Echo and her guards dutifully obeyed and filed out of the room.
The door clanged shut, signalling the two of them were alone. *yn* suddenly felt the weight of that realisation as the silence stretched.
"The crown suits you." *yn* finally broke the silence. Her eyes flickered down to his chest. "Didn't pick you for the sash type though."
"I'm not here for jokes, Malak al maut."
He winced as he pushed himself off the throne and took a few steps towards her.
"Echo tells me I should kill you and Wanheda where you stand. Take your power. Rule over everything."
"It's not a bad plan." She acknowledged with a shrug of her shoulders.
Roan eyed her curiously. She was different. Muted, like a damper had been put over her fire.
"I'm waiting for you to tell me why I shouldn't."
"Because without us you'll be dead within six months."
His eyes narrowed. "Explain." They were standing chest to chest now.
"You remember the fire that caused the end of the world. Praimfaya? Well, it's about to happen again. A wave of radiation that will kill everything, unless we figure out how to stop it."
"Our ancestors survived Praimfaya. We can survive it too."
"You can't." *yn* shook her head. "Not without Skaikru. We might not be able to stop it, but science is our only hope."
"Well isn't that convenient?"
"Fine. Don't believe me." She shrugged.
Roan clenched his jaw, his irises gleaming in the early morning sun.
He'd summoned her here because Wanheda was too dramatic and talked too much for his liking, but also because she challenged him, offered him a chance to flex his mental sparring skills. But the Malak al maut before him was offering him none of that. And Roan didn't like it.
*yn*'s eyes involuntarily flickered to the ground, unable to maintain the intense eye contact. Her stomach churned at the sight of blood pooled under a table behind them. She could feel the blood draining from her face, her hands trembling ever so slightly at her sides as panic clawed its way up her spine.
She knew logically that it wasn't Elijah's blood, but her body didn't.
Roan followed her gaze, noting her paling complexion. He didn't say anything. *yn* didn't know if it was an act of mercy or that he simply didn't care enough to ask.
Roan turned, glancing over at her once before stalking to the floor to ceiling windows.
*yn* followed after him warily, noting that his hand was now resting on the hilt of his sword.
The din of shouts and chants from below reached them.
"Listen to them." He spoke gruffly. "If I don't kill you and Wanheda, I'll be dead in six days not six months." For the first time she saw something earnest flicker in his features.
"Your friend." He continued quietly, his gaze fixed outside. "The one who died upstairs."
The whiplash from the unexpected change in conversation nearly took her knees out from under her.
"I have his body."
"It's safe." He continued when he felt her eyes snap to his face. "I will ensure no harm comes to it."
She didn't speak. She just pushed harder against those mental barriers as best as she could, holding back the tidal wave of grief that was threatening to burst through and flood her entire body. Her crossed arms tightened around her body.
He turned to look at her then. He observed the blood and dirt that caked her face, broken up only by dried tear tracks. Her neck was ringed by differing blooms of pinks and purples. Specks of ash clung to her lashes. She was still undeniably beautiful.
He looked away before she could catch him staring.
"He'll be given a proper burial. Know that."
He was trying to give her some sort of comfort before he snuffed her life force out.
"Make sure Pike's body is dumped in the sewer while you're at it."
"Consider it done."
She exhaled and nodded.
"Ok." She turned to face him. "Kill me if you have to."
"But at least let my people go. Honour Lexa's coalition and keep Skaikru as the thirteenth clan."
"After what you did to Trikru?" He shook his head. "All of Azgeda wants Skaikru dead."
Roan's words stung. A painful reminder of the pain her people had caused, what Bellamy had caused.
"I'm sorry. I can't."
"You'd slaughter innocent women and children?" *yn* snapped, an unexpected bout of anger coursing through her body as she turned to face him.
He turned to look at her properly. She looked brighter, a flicker of the burning flame she once was. It almost made him smile.
"It's not my choice."
"Please, you always have a choice." She scoffed. "You're a fucking king for crying out loud."
Despite the circumstances, something sparked in her chest. She felt alive. And even though anger wasn't the most healthy emotion to cling to, it was the only one she had that didn't make her want to cry, but also prevented her from feeling numb.
"Then give me something else to work with." Roan growled. "Because right now, my hands are tied."
*yn* cursed under her breath, looking out the window as she racked her brain. She knew that there was one thing she could offer, but she didn't know if Clarke would ever forgive her.
But when she looked into Roan's eyes again, she knew she didn't have any other choice.
"Clarke has the chip." She said quietly. "I can convince her to give it to you."
"We were told it was lost." Roan blinked in disbelief. His eyes hardened. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just take it off Clarke and kill you where you stand."
"Because I just gave you one. You think I'd be offering this if what I was saying wasn't true?"
"I already trust you *yn*." He grunted. The sound of her real name sounded strange falling off his tongue.
"Then consider it a peace offering." She pressed. "You wanted an Ice Nation commander. With the chip, you control who ascends. There will never be a commander to rule over you unless you allow it."
Roan muttered under his breath, fixing his gaze out into Polis.
The shouts of the crowd below grew louder. His hand on the hilt of his sword tightened.
She needed something else to sweeten the deal. And something that would let her keep her distance from facing her feelings, her grief.
"I'll stay."
Her words made him look at her in surprise.
"In Polis." She continued. "I'll stay as an ambassador, a prisoner, a symbol, whatever you want."
He cocked his head, studying her.
"What better way to cement your rule then having Malak al maut at your side, singing your praises?" She implored.
He raised a brow. "Singing my praises? Is that something you're even capable of?"
"I can be pretty convincing."
The ghost of a smirk twitching up on one side of his mouth. "You never fail to surprise me, little angel."
"I know you've all come here for an execution but no one else will die here today."
Roan's authoritative voice carried effortlessly across the square, over the gathered crowd.
*yn* shifted in her seat behind him. Roan's guards formed a solid wall of bodies between them and the crowd, blocking her view, but she knew her people were there.
Roan had summoned Clarke, allowing them the dignity of speaking privately. Although she'd been reluctant to hand it over, Clarke confessed what *yn* had already known, that the chip had always been their only way out.
Roan had begrudgingly allowed her time to shower and change before summoning his audience.
She still felt dirty, like no amount of water could wash the blood away that coated her like a second skin. But at least now she looked semi-presentable, like she could stand beside a king without visibly looking like she was falling apart.
"The City of Light has fallen." Roan continued. "And there is no Commander left to rule us. Till another commander ascends, I - King Roan of Azgeda, son of Naia, Grandson of Theo - am care-taker of the throne and keeper of the flame."
Shocked whispers broke out amongst the crowd as Roan held the chip up for everyone to see.
"You're a king, not a priest!" A voice called out. "This is blasphemy!"
"Not blasphemy." Roan answered calmly in his native tongue. "Order."
Silence fell.
"Until another ascends, Azgeda honours and will defend the coalition of the last true Commander, Lexa kom Trikru. Including the thirteenth clan."
The whispers returned, louder now, uneasy.
Roan turned to her. He motioned for her to stand.
"Malak al maut, one of the most powerful warriors amongst us."
She came to stand beside him.
The sound of the crowd hit her all at once, gasps and murmurs of fury, awe, disgust. Her skin buzzed as though charged with electricity.
"As a demonstration of Skaikru's commitment to the coalition and my role as keeper of the flame, Malak al maut has pledged herself to me and agreed to serve at my side here in Polis."
Bellamy stared up at her in shock.
She had changed her clothes. Grounder leathers instead of torn fabric. Her hair pulled back sharply, face stripped of anything soft or familiar. It felt like she was looking through them, not at them.
Clarke had told them about the deal that *yn* had made with Roan to give him the chip, but judging by the look on Clarke's face - it was obvious that *yn* had left this part out.
"Let it be known, that an attack against Skaikru is an attack against us all."
The weight of the King's seal felt too heavy in Bellamy's hand.
Unable to stop himself, he glanced once more up at the tower, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
"We'll do our best to keep Roan on his throne." Kane spoke once Clarke and Bellamy reached him and Abby.
"And we'll do our best to find a way to beat the radiation." Clarke nodded.
Kane stepped forward, clasping Bellamy's forearm firmly.
"You turn the page." Kane said firmly, his hand gripping Bellamy's shoulder as Bellamy went to pull away. "You turn the page, and don't look back. You do better today then you did yesterday. You understand?"
Bellamy inclined his head.
"You'll look out for her?"
Kane smiled sympathetically. "As much as she'll let me."
Bellamy mustered up a weak smile at that and nodded in understanding.
"It's getting dark, we should get going." Clarke announced.
Bellamy went to follow after Clarke, but froze when a familiar streak of hair caught his eye.
Achingly familiar eyes met his.
The others around him fell silent, all eyes turning to *yn* as she approached the group, her steps steady and deliberate.
"I just wanted to make sure you got the seal."
Bellamy blinked, shaking himself out of his daze, before hastily pulling the cloth-wrapped seal from the inside of his jacket. *yn* didn't meet his eyes, just nodded curtly once she'd sighted it.
"I need to talk to you."
She hesitated, studying him as if committing his face to memory, then nodded.
The others around them exchanged glances.
"This'll be good." Octavia remarked dryly, rolling her eyes before wandering off.
"I'll be waiting." Clarke said to Bellamy before shooting *yn* a sad smile.
"We'll be inside." Kane added. Abby nodded in agreement.
They stood in silence. Despite only being a few feet from each other, the space between them felt insurmountable.
"Come with us." Bellamy finally said.
"I can't. Roan-"
Bellamy scoffed.
Her eyes narrowed. "It was part of the deal that Roan and I made. If I leave, I risk jeopardising the safety of our people."
"That's bullshit and you know it." Bellamy snapped.
"It's not bullshit." She hissed defensively.
"Yes it is." His jaw clenched. "You're running away."
"Maybe I am? So fucking what."
"So fucking what?" Bellamy repeated incredulously. "So fucking what is that you look like you're on the edge of a nervous breakdown and you're trying to tell me that you're fine."
"You're seriously getting angry at me?" She snarled. "After everything that's just happened?"
"I'm not angry." He corrected. "I'm-" He inhaled sharply. "I'm frustrated. I keep trying to be there for you, to help you deal with everything that you're feeling, and you're too stubborn to let me."
"Well maybe I don't want to feel anything." She shot back, her eyes glowering with defiance.
"Maybe I'm tired of carrying around all of this guilt and grief and misguided hope." Her voice lowered, as she felt exhaustion finally begin to seep through.
Bellamy let out a breath. The next time he spoke, his voice was soft.
"Don't end up like O, *yn*."
It was a plea.
"Octavia has every right to be how she is." *yn*'s voice inched higher again. "She lost the love of her life and her brother in one go."
Bellamy visibly flinched at that. "Trust me, I understand how she feels."
*yn* shook her head, finally breaking eye contact.
"What about everything you said?" Bellamy asked quietly. His voice was laced with desperation. "That I could never lose you, that I'd always had you."
She squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to get away from him before her walls crumbled completely.
"I thought we were about to die."
He took a step back from her, like she'd physically just hit him with deadly accuracy.
"So what? You're saying you didn't mean it?"
"No." She couldn't bring herself to lie to him, not about something like this.
"But I thought we had no more time. Things are different now."
"And six months is all the time in the world is it?" His eyes flared with emotion again.
"Everytime I look at you I see him." She admitted quietly. "And I see Pike, I see Lincoln, I see Cage, I see Wells." She could have kept the list going, but she couldn't bare to say any more names out loud.
"If I let myself feel anything other than anger, I'm scared that it'll knock me to the ground and I won't be able to get up again. And I can't have that, not when people still need me."
She wanted to kiss away the tears that were sliding down his cheeks. Wanted to pull him into her arms.
"So we might only have six months left to live and you're going to spend it here in Polis, pretending that you don't love me?"
His voice cracked at the same time as her heart.
"I'm sorry, Bellamy." Her voice was surprisingly steady.
Bellamy searched her face for a few moments, looking for a hint on her features that she'd change her mind, that there was hope he could hold onto.
When he detected none, he nodded, hastily wiping the tears off his cheeks. She watched as his face visibly hardened, sliding over his features like a visor.
It was a tactic she recognised instantly, because she was wearing the exact same armour.
"May we meet again then."
Bellamy moved to stick his hand out but decided last minute to keep it by his side. She was grateful that he didn't. She was too scared to know what would happen if she touched him again.
She looked up from his hand by his side, her eyes meeting his.
"May we meet again."
Part 41 - coming soon
****
*Hod op = wait
This is quite literally insane of me. I know. Posting after a 4 year hiatus and TEN YEARS after I first started this series. I've honestly never felt so motivated to write for this series, I feel so refreshed and like I've fallen in love with these characters and stories all over again. If you've been with me since the beginning, thank you. If this is your first time discovering this series, welcome - you're in for a hell of a ride.
As always always always, feedback is always appreciated because I thrive off praise. Please give it back here and consider tipping me! 🤍
Cliches are sometimes the best because they are just fun, cute, and give me a warm and fuzzy vibe it’s like watching your fave comfort show but in fic form!! I say post whatever you want!!💖
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