Warrior ‣ Bellamy Blake

Sixty-Four

BOLD = Trigedasleng

***

Aella had once been in charge, or at least one of the people in charge. She would have loved to have run under a democracy, but she was once the leader of a bunch of violence-riddled teenagers, then the bloodthirsty adults. She tried to do what was best for everyone, not herself, and she supposed that was the difference between a leader and a dictator. She tried her best to stop wars between her people and the Grounders, but it was near impossible. Aella had once been in charge, but in the new order of the world, she had no power.

Octavia was seething at her brother's actions and while Aella admitted she too wasn't pleased with the arrangement, it wasn't the end of the world. She wished she could have spoken to Octavia, but the girl wasn't the same. Ever since Lincoln died and ever since whatever happened in the bunker occurred, she was different. Hardened. People who had once been her friends were enemies. Clarke was one of them, that was, at least, before she forked over the Flame to Gaia who promised Octavia it would be kept safe.

The two hardly spoke as Aella patched up the leader in Polis. She did have to give her credit for her strength back in the desert.

"You want to say something," Octavia observed, not even wincing as Aella disinfected the wound with alcohol.

"There are many things I want to say," Aella admitted. "But I've learned when I need to bite my tongue."

"No, you haven't," Octavia replied with the hint of a smile, the first Aella had seen since Octavia first exited the bunker and felt the sun on her face. "We've changed, but I know you still will never hesitate to say your piece even in the face of death."

"I guess you're right," she said with a light chuckle. "How is it you know me so well even though I am a complete stranger?"

"Because you're not a complete stranger," she said. "I am."

"O..."

"I've made my peace with it. I did what I had to do in that bunker for six years and now I know how difficult it is to make the hard choices."

"Stuck between a rock and a hard place. No pun intended."

"You know what it's like."

"Only a little. I only did it for almost a year. You did it for six."

"But you still made the hard choices. That's why you were left behind."

"I suppose."

She winced. "If you could change any of your choices, would you?"

"Of course," she responded. "And you?"

"I'd like to think I would. Thing is, I don't think so."

"Well, that's a good thing."

"Is it now?" 

"Clarke needs some of the alcohol," Madi said, entering the room unannounced. "Sorry. Am I interrupting?"

"No," Octavia replied, looking at the girl. "Madi, is it?"

"Yeah," said the young girl with a little smile. "And you're Octavia."

"She's a big fan," Aella warned. "Clarke told her stories about the girl under the floor that saved the human race."

"And what's your story?" Octavia asked the girl. "Six years of radiation? How'd you do it?"

"Synthetic Nightblood," Aella replied nonchalantly, relaxing her shoulders and her jaw so that Octavia could see no visible signs of her lying. "Clarke found her in hiding. Madi was dying and Clarke got her to the lab. She gave her a vial of my bone marrow. Worked like a charm."