Sleep, O

Lincoln

Hey everyone, thank you for all the love you've given this story, and you've inspired me to write the next chapter... Lincoln. I know it's not as long as the others, but I do plan on writing more Linctavia in the future so please stick around.

I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to Follow, Favourite and Review.

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He cradles her in his arms as he treks through the forest. She had fallen asleep some time ago, asking him to do the same, but he could not stop. He won't stop.

He doesn't know if the arrow is poisonous, if it had been dipped in the toxic blood of a radiation altered animal or soaked in the deadliest of tree saps. And even if it wasn't, he can't risk pulling it out somewhere with a high chance of infection, lest it be bitten by some bug with venom in it's teeth.

So he must carry on.

He holds onto her tighter through the uneven terrain, being careful not to jostle her leg. She needs her rest to heal, and he wouldn't be able to bear her cries of pain whilst she is awake. Hearing them once was enough torture to last him a lifetime.

He had watched as blue eyes fluttered open; he had let himself take the moment to truly marvel in her beauty up close. All along, he had only been able to watch her from afar, far beyond the walls of her camp.

He had first seen her the day after the ship arrived on their land, limping as she was helped by another boy back into camp. Immediately, he was taken by her beauty, and somehow his eyes were always drawn to her whenever he was watching them.

He watched as she left their camp grounds, her naivety and eagerness to explore causing worry to pool in the depths of his stomach, so he followed her. He followed her to the butterfly patch, watched as she danced with the luminescent butterflies and her eyes light up like a thousand suns. At that moment, he knew he'd do anything just to see that smile.

And when she had limped after her brother through the forest to find the new spacecraft, an implacable worry had embedded itself within his heart. It was therefore without a thought that he trailed behind her.

He hadn't meant to scare her on the way back, and he felt his heart stop when he couldn't find her. He searched the surrounding woods for hours until he spotted her blue overalls beside the ravine. It didn't take a second before he had scooped her up in his arms much like he was doing now, and took her into his cave, where she would be safe.

He left just for a moment to prepare the necessary tools. The wound was wide and gaping, the whites of bone peaking through the ruptured flesh, and despite seeing more ghastly wounds in his lifetime, he nearly retched at the thought of the girl before him having to go through so much pain.

Approaching her with the scalding blade, he prayed she would stay still, that she would realise he was doing this for her own good. Alas, her eyes widened in terror as she began to struggle, leaving him with no other choice but to hold her down, place the burning metal against her skin and watch as she screamed before passing out from the pain.

Those few seconds had been the worse moments of his life, and he wishes he could take them back, take all her pain and suffering away. He never wanted to hurt her, to cause her any pain, and yet here he was, trying to help her recover from an attack by his people.

The sun begins to shine down his back, sweat dripping down his forehead and seeping into the leather skins. Through his gloved hands he can almost feel the heat radiating from her small body, and it is with a sigh of relief that he spots the river up ahead.

He does his best to wash the wound as she awakens, pulling out the arrow and cauterising the wound with as little warning as possible to ease the pain by the slightest bit, but is filled with panic when the barest hint of poison grazes his tongue. He immediately knows they're in trouble, and her screams not too long later only reaffirm his fears.

He knows what he has to do.

He would do anything for her, anything to ensure she survives; even if he has to die for her, so be it.

Carrying her in his arms once again, he makes her recite trigedasleng, if only to keep her awake. The heat of her fever would make her delirious, but as long as she's awake, he knows she's still fine, she's still breathing.

He allows himself to be completely enraptured by her voice as he walks, as it may be the last time he ever hears it. Once he returns to his village, the possibility of seeing her again is close to none; so he savours these final moments with her.

Reaching the statue, he sets her down on the grass. Saying his goodbyes, he fills her with empty promises, promises of love and reassurance he knows he will not be able to keep. He doesn't want to leave her, doesn't want this, him leaving her, to be the last memory she has of him, but the thought of her survival is enough to urge him forward.

It is with sad, fearful but determined eyes that he leaves her, slightly drowsy and delirious, partially numb to the world around her, in the hands of fate and hope.

"Sleep now, Octavia kom Skaikru, you will be better soon."

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