Ground Down

Chapter 21

Being the youngest of the family undeniably came with perks. With downsides, too, sure, but it had afforded her riches she had not known to appreciate as a child. Protection. Safety. A lack of automatically imposed responsibility, yet three safe havens to run to as soon as a blade of grass tickled her foot the wrong way. Octavia closed the last buckle on her boot and took it back off of the edge of the Boudalan ambassador chair because that one was still empty so nobody could glare at her for putting her feet on it, smoothed out her armour and relaxed into an upright stance with her hand around her sword's hilt. 

Looking at Lexa sitting on her throne, the red sash the only spill of colour down her lanky frame painted black on grey, with her mother stoic on one side and Gustus unmoved on the other, that time had passed. Anya had kicked them out about an hour ago, after having stayed true to her promise that she would get to lift her back. Not Lexa. Octavia craned her neck to cast a glance at where Lincoln had been standing behind her before she remembered that she had sent him to check on Raven so her mother would stop glaring him down. 

Maybe she should have sent him to check on Anya instead, but she would have her head for that. Octavia shot Titus another dirty glare who ignored her with his nose all high-ass in the air, regarding Lexa around it like an old-fashioned dick with a monocle. He didn't want her standing on the platform with Lexa. Because she was just her mother's second, a second, not a warrior, he had probably shit his lack of pants when Lexa had come in with only her as her guard, seeing that he had lectured her about how unfitting it was for the Commander to be guarded by nothing but a second, which Octavia considered hella insulting. Lexa was alive, she had guarded her just fine, shuffling her through a narrow passage between stone walls. No ghosts, no zombies, not even a rat. She'd have fought either tooth and claw, she was a good soldier. 

Her back still hurt every time she moved her arms. Or head, really. Anya would need help going forwards. Initially, that thought had bothered her, but not so much anymore, she could do that. She could take responsibility. Like Lexa did, sitting on that throne, face all steel, toying with her knife as if time passing offended her. That was a lot of responsibility, sitting there. Making those choices. She could fight for her, that she could add, she could lay her life down, like her mother standing by Lexa's side would do without hesitation. That was responsible. And, knowing that, Octavia stood a bit straighter. 

It was time to grow up. 

"Weron nontu kamp raun [Where's dad] ?" Lexa caught her, and by extension everybody else's, attention. 

Nine ambassadors cut their chattering and turned in sync with onlookers and guards and a handful of maids trying to pretend they were invisible between the people busily accumulating between the room's old walls. Some of the reparations to them looked more aesthetic than useful, in her opinion, but then again, Polis kinda went for the whole pre-war-and-noticeable vibe. Not that it wasn't neat or anything. Her brother would probably hate it though. Octavia blinked to focus.

"Em laik reshop [Resting] , Heda." Her mother bowed her head. "Yu gaf ai lid em in [Do you want me to get him] ?"

"Sha [Yes] . En tel Skaikru bilaik emo ste lagentaim, ai don tel emo op ai gaf chich emo op [And tell Skaikru they're late, I told them I want to speak to them] ."

"Sha, Heda." 

Her mother bowed her head again and made a beeline for the door. Octavia pursed her lips. Mainly at Titus clearing his throat. 

"Yu don chants rowenes au lasnat [(Hard to translate, he's accusing her of wasting time/taking a risk/being weak last night with her sisters in a way that implies he thinks that "risk" isn't worth it)] , Heda?" The intonation left to assume that had not really been a question.