𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, bellamy blake ¹

25; always

"There are no heroes...in life, the monsters win."

― George R.R. Martin

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NAOMI HUNG AGAINST THE LADDER. It had been an hour since she awoke, which Clarke informed her was not long after she was knocked out. Clarke had been stitching up Finn's wounds while he lay awake against the bed. Abby stilled talked, lulling and soft in the late hours of the day.

"Naomi. We've run out of water," said Clarke from across the room. "Would you get some from the river?"

The blonde looked up at the hatch above. It was still jammed shut, and probably wouldn't open for the rest of the day. Hesitantly, she untangled herself from the rungs of the ladder. Her legs burned with numbness as she moved towards Clarke. Dark circles hung beneath the Naomi's eyes. She looked back once towards the ladder. "Yeah," she said. "I'll be a while. Will Finn be okay?"

"He's stable," said Clarke. "For now."

"Good. Keep him that way." Naomi touched her friend on the shoulder before leaving the drop-ship. The walk to the river was a lengthy one, and though the Trikru were not to fear, she walked with her sword in hand. The late air was cold and damp with mist. It hung through the forest like cobwebs.

When she came to the river she filled the water bladders. The water numbed her fingertips. Before long, she secured the lids and went to stand. She struggled to get back up, muscles weakened from lack of rest. The last time she slept must have been the night she found out about Charlotte. She pushed herself up, clutching the bottles in her hands. They shook softly with exhaustion and cold. Tying up her jacket, she made the trek back to camp.

Rabbits bounced from her path as she walked back to the forest. Naomi made the decision to make a chase as to snag some for extra rations. They didn't stand a chance against her bow. She reached the campsite with three skins of water and two dead rabbits in her pack. Clarke would be pleased, she imagined.

Naomi dropped off the game to a kid in charge of the smokehouse. The moment she stepped into the drop-ship, she knew something was wrong. Finn was lying on the bed, breathing rapidly as Raven crouched over him, crying. Clarke was nowhere to be seen.

"What—" Naomi began, but stilled. Voices argued upstairs and light flooded from the hatch opening. She dropped the skins of water and swung herself up the ladder with a cry of "Bellamy!"

She crawled through before anyone could stop her, jamming her body between the hatch and the wall. Her legs held it open and she swung herself up. Her vision was blocked by the figures of Clarke and Octavia. They turned to look at her. Octavia's eyes were filled with tears. Clarke tried to grab a hold of Naomi but the older girl pushed past her.

She heard a whimper of pain and caught a glimpse of Bellamy shoving a sharp object through the Grounder's hand.

"What are you doing?" Naomi shoved Bellamy from her way. Her face twisted in horror: she knew him. "Lincoln! Oh my God!" She moved towards him, hands outstretched. "What have you done? I know him. He was trying to make sure we were safe!" Naomi turned to Bellamy, lips parted and brows low. "How could you do this?"

Bellamy stepped forward. "You call this trying to keep us safe?" He held up a notebook. In columns were 100 markings. The top row had been crossed off.

Naomi shook her head. "Torture? Oh my God Bellamy. And after I tried so hard to get an alliance? How can you torture someone?"

Clarke held up a knife. The blade was cruel, hilt twisted into a traditional Grounder dagger. "He poisoned the blade. Finn is going to die if we don't get the antidote from him."