thirty one . . . what happens at sea
( february 23, 2150 — luna's rig )
HER EYES OPENED heavily, little specks of sunlight beaming in from holes in the shipping container she and her friends lay in. She squinted, her arm shaking as she weakly pushed her body from the floor, hand coming up to sweep the dreads of hair from her eyes. Across from her, Clarke was waking up, too, glancing around their surroundings to see they had no way out — Bellamy was next, followed by Octavia, then Jasper, all of them surveying the situation they had gotten themselves into.
"Where the hell are we?" Bellamy's voice croaked.
Octavia moaned, before a small gasp left her lips, her back colliding with the metal wall as she reached for her sword. "My sword's gone." She revealed, panicked.
Cullen's hand wandered to her thigh, falling around her holster. "My gun, too." She said, pushing herself into a standing position, before walking across to Jasper, peering out one of the holes in the wall to see nothing but the clear blue sky above them. "All I can see is the sky."
The sound of doors being scraped open snapped her neck around, eyes narrowing to look past the sunlight and to whoever stood between the doors, looking back on them expectedly. It was only when they stepped inside that Cullen realized it was Luna, an exact replica of how Lincoln had drawn her in his book.
"Luna." Octavia breathed in amazement, moving forward, everybody following in tow.
"Where's Lincoln?" Luna's calm, amiable voice asked, sparing everybody a glance, before settling her gaze back on Octavia.
A pause was heard, before Octavia said, "Lincoln is dead."
At this, Luna frowned, looking disappointingly to the floor. The small ounce of vulnerability made Clarke take another step forward, the A.I. in her hand. "Lincoln said that you would help us." Said Clarke.
"Did he?" Luna contended, raising her eyebrows.
"Luna, you're the last of your kind, the last Nightblood." Clarke grinned, Cullen's eyes flickering across to Bellamy — the man subtly raised his hand, shaking fingers assuring her that there was nothing to worry about.
Luna nodded. "So Lexa's dead, as well."
"Her spirit has chosen you to become the next Commander. Titus entrusted me with the flame to give to you."
"Then he should have told you that I left my conclave swearing to never kill again." Luna disclosed.
"You don't have to kill." Clarke assured. "To lead is your birthright. How you lead is your choice. Here." She moved closer to Luna, unwrapping the A.I. and revealing it to the woman, who took Clarke's hand hesitantly, analyzing the device.
"I recognize the sacred symbol, but what is that?" Luna asked.
"This is the flame. It holds the spirits of the Commanders, of Lexa." Said Clarke. "Will you take it and become the next Commander?"
They all looked to Luna apprehensively, before the woman curled Clarke's fingers back around the chip. "No." Was all she said, and walked out of the shipping container, leaving the five of them behind in her shadow.
Clarke turned around, not expecting for Luna to refuse the position, the other four, either. Cullen didn't know much about Grounder history, but being the Commander meant ruling over all twelve, now thirteen, clans, and surely that meant something to someone who participated in the event leading towards being the Commander?
"Hey, wait." Clarke called, before they all darted after her, coming to a haltering stop not far from the exit.
For miles and miles and miles around them, all Cullen could see was the sky and the ocean. They were completely deserted, on top of what she could only assume to be an oil rig, in the middle of absolute nothing — it was solidity to a new level, Cullen thought to herself, as she turned around, panicked eyes flickering between her friends. This wasn't what any of them expected, not by a long shot; a clan in the middle of the ocean, it sounded as bizarre as it was.
Luna was out of sight when the five members of Skaikru were escorted to a common room of sorts, situated on a table with food and beverages; when Clarke asked the man who escorted them where Luna had gone, and if they were able to speak with her again, the man didn't answer, leaving them in the dark about what was happening. Luna wasn't supposed to say no, but Cullen wasn't surprised she denied the chip, either — as a Nightblood, although Cullen didn't know the depths of Grounder traditions, she understood why Luna didn't want a destructive A.I. in her head.
Cullen sat in between Bellamy and Clarke, her right leg bouncing as her eyes drifted around the room, seeing nothing but the smiling faces of the Boat People. Genuine contentment with life was all that could be felt upon the oil rig, making Cullen believe that Luna stayed devoted to her words; there was no hatred amongst Floukru — no war, either, something Skaikru wasn't familiar with.
"Everywhere I looked, there were fins. And teeth. And blood. I knew if they saw me, I'd be next, so I just floated there, waiting, praying they'd swim on. But they didn't." A woman, Shay, spoke from the front of the room. She was rehearsing a poem, one that Jasper seemed avidly interested in.
From beside her, Bellamy turned at the sound of doors opening, before announcing, "She's here. Maybe she changed her mind." He stood, Clarke not far behind him.
"Bellamy—" Cullen hissed, missing when she reached out to seize hold of his wrist. She sighed as she watched him advance closer to Luna, before turning her attention back on Shay.
The Floukru woman continued talking, her words meaning nothing to Cullen's ears as a shadow hovered above her, Luna looking down between the three Skaikru members that remained sitting. Upon seeing Luna, Jasper stood and walked away, towards the stage where Shay stood, still reading her poem — Cullen and Octavia remained, the Blake female glancing across to Cullen quickly, ensuring she knew not to leave.
"I thought you'd want this back." Luna took what once was Clarke's seat, extending her arm to offer Octavia Lincoln's book.
"Thank you." Octavia nodded appreciatively, taking the book. She held it delicately, looking over the cover, before returning her eyes to Luna. "And my sword?"
"Your weapons will be on the boat." Answered Luna.
"We're leaving?" Cullen inquired, eyebrows pulling together.
Luna glanced back to the Vander female. "At nightfall."
"So much for the great Luna, the savior of those in need." Octavia remarked coyly.
"You don't want saving. You want someone to fight with you."
"Damn right. We're at war. Luna, you can't just ignore that. Lincoln would have wanted you to help us." Argued Octavia.
"By becoming Commander?" Luna contended, before swiftly shaking her head. "I don't think so. Lincoln knew our rules. We take people in who are done fighting. Done killing. Look at you. Fighting is all you know. Death is all you know. Lincoln would have never brought that here."
Luna finished talking in time with the end of Shay's poem, a round of applause sounding around the room as the leader of the Boat People rose from the chair, nodding pleasantly to Cullen and Octavia before she walked away. Cullen watched after her, the words of truth she had spoken circling around in her mind. Fighting was what they knew — killing. Death. They were three words that were too common to Skaikru, and that was unnerving.
Cullen turned her eyes back on Octavia, daring to say, "Luna's right."
"About what?" Octavia gritted out.
"About all of what she said. Lincoln didn't want us to be the way we are. Lincoln wouldn't have wanted you to—"
"You didn't know Lincoln well enough to tell me what he would or wouldn't have wanted." She snapped, biting back Cullen's words, making the older female lean back in her chair.
Octavia spoke truthfully, and Cullen was in no mood to argue against her statement; she didn't know Lincoln well enough to assume what he would have wanted from Octavia, but she knew enough. Lincoln was kind, and considerate, and peaceful, for a warrior who had been raised in nothing but violence and war. He saw the good in Skaikru, and remained loyal to them, and his people, until his last dying breath — she knew that, and she knew that who Octavia was becoming was not somebody Lincoln would have been proud of.
Cullen didn't say that. She remained quiet until Bellamy and Clarke rejoined them, Jasper being the only one that was missing. From where Cullen sat, she could see him and Shay talking, a pleasant conversation being shared between the two.
"Jasper's actually smiling." Bellamy noted, Cullen's lips turning upwards as she watched the Jordan boy smile a subtle, yet genuine, smile. It was the first time she had seen him smile since the events at Mount Weather, when Maya told him she loved him for the first, and last, time.
"It looks good on him." Said Cullen, looking back to the fire in front of them.
A pause settled over them, before Bellamy said, "Clarke, let it go."
He was talking about the glare that was set in stone across Clarke's features, her eyes remaining on Luna, who sat peacefully across the room from them. A man was by her side, his arm curled around her shoulders as the two smiled, sharing a gleeful moment with each other.
"We can't just leave." Said Clarke.
"It's not like we have much of a choice." Replied Octavia.
"Maybe we do." Cullen's eyes darted away from the fire, her brows narrowing as she focused her soul attention on Clarke.
"What are you talking about?" Bellamy asked.
"I'm talking about putting this into her head without asking." Clarke revealed, showing Cullen, Bellamy, and Octavia the casing that held the A.I..
Upon hearing Clarke's words, Cullen's face dropped. The empowering fear she had felt since the very moment Clarke revealed that it was only Nightblood that could tap into A.L.I.E. 2.0 came flourishing back to the surface of Cullen's emotions, her walls heightening by fifty feet. The very thing that had been plaguing her mind, terrifying her into thinking her thoughts would eventually be inevitable, was coming true — whether they liked it or not, Clarke was willing to do whatever it took for there to be a new Commander, that involved taking over somebody's mind without their consent.
Cullen felt like a weight of a thousand tons had just been dumped onto her chest, the breath unnaturally catching in her throat as she glanced over to Bellamy, who looked just as affrighted as Cullen.
"No way, Clarke." Octavia refused in a harsh whisper. "This isn't like Emerson. He was trying to kill us."
"You think I don't know that?"
"Clarke, we don't have to do this." Bellamy's voice croaked slightly, his fear seeming to only be visible to Cullen, who's wide green eyes didn't dare look away from the man who offered her assurance. "We can fight and go back to Arkadia. We arm up."
"Fight who?" Clarke threw back. "It's an army of our own people. I don't like this any more than you do. But if Raven's right, and the code on this thing can stop A.L.I.E.—"
She was cut off by a man shouting something over to Luna, giving Cullen the opportunity to argue, "You don't have the right to shove that into somebody's head, Clarke. This isn't a decision you get to make. It's somebody's life we're talking about."
"Give me a better idea." She asserted.
"How about not putting that thing in Luna's head?" Cullen retorted, her whisper being bleaker then she had expected. It shocked Clarke, who blinked cluelessly across to Cullen; the Vander female was physically fuming, showing her restraints in Clarke forcing somebody to become the Commander and fight their war with them.
Beneath the table, Bellamy's hand circled around Cullen's knee, his fingers giving a tight squeeze of calmness. Her blatant panic was most obvious to him, who was much better at concealing the fact he feared more for Cullen's life now that Clarke had put force on the table. His fingers squeezing her knee was bolstering, simmering down some of the heat that fueled the fire of her fear, but he couldn't completely erase it.
"Even A.L.I.E. gives people a choice." Said Octavia, though it was obvious Clarke had made up her mind that what she had to do was force the chip into Luna's head — that that was the only way they'd save their people.
♥️
BELLAMY HAD TRIED reassuring Cullen that though Clarke thought they didn't have another choice when it came to forcing the chip into Luna's head, the last thing that was going to happen was it going into Cullen's. And, she wanted to believe him — she wanted to trust that Clarke would never find out that the thing that could save them was coursing through Cullen's veins, just waiting to be taken advantage of.
She left not long after Clarke did, wanting to be far away when the act happened. Cullen couldn't have made it more clear that she disagreed with Clarke's way of seeing things; that they could in fact find another way to get their people back and take down A.L.I.E. without having to force somebody into a situation they wanted nothing apart of; but that went amiss by the Griffin female, who did as she thought was right.
Cullen eventually ended up at a railing that boarded off the deck of the oil rig, her fingers curled tightly around the metal as she slid her eyes across the horizon. The first thought that came to mind when seeing the beautiful landscape was Maya, and how she would have adored seeing the ocean in person. It was always something they talked about — seeing the ocean. Feeling how the free water felt against their skin. It became something they could only imagine, though Cullen knew how much Maya wanted it; now, undeservingly, Cullen was living what Maya should have been, too.
Her blood seemed to be the cause of all that was wrong in her life. Surviving the killing in Mount Weather, and being an heir of the thing that could both save, and kill, everybody. Cullen had once been thankful that her blood was different — that she was given another chance to live her life like she always deserved to — but now, it seemed to be her downfall.
How quickly things had changed, Cullen thought to herself, shaking her head at the ocean that glistened in beautiful serenity. How something that saved her was out to inevitably kill her in one way or another; it was her luck, to have survived one culling, only to be killed off in the next.
She had been so deep in thought that when Luna approached her, Cullen hadn't noticed the leader of Floukru very obviously had something to say.
"You are different to your people." Luna noted, brown eyes set on the ocean.
"How'd you figure that one out?" Pondered Cullen, not expecting an answer.
"You don't demand answers. You see what's around you. You see what you could ruin."
"We aren't ruining anything." Cullen said, heatedly glancing across to Luna, who looked back at the Vander female expectedly. "We came to you for help because Lincoln told us you helped those in need — we were in need, and you refused us, and I get it. We can say we tried, and move on to whatever comes after we're far away from here."
Luna's head tilted, cultivated eyes wandering around Cullen's face. "Are you Skaikru?"
"Yes." Cullen answered within a second.
"But you aren't from the sky." Finished Luna, nodding to herself as though she finally figured out a puzzle that had been irritating her.
"What does that matter?"
"It matters." Was what Luna said, turning back to the ocean. Cullen, however, kept her lucid green irises attached to the side of Luna's face, glaring for an answer to reveal itself. "You aren't like them. You don't seek war like they do. You aren't selfish — you don't demand things when you see people do not want to give them."
"You don't know me." Cullen shook her head.
"I don't?" Luna litigated, eyes returning to Cullen's once again. There was nothing but understanding in her irises, irking Cullen to feel as though she had become weakly transparent to those who did not know her. "Tell me, do your people know you are a Nightblood?"
The color drained from Cullen's face, the female taking a vigilant step away from Luna, though the Floukru women held no offence to the action. She looked at Cullen in recognition, remembering the fear she once held for what she was, and what it meant to those around her — she saw herself, younger, fighting in a conclave she did not desire to win, and she felt the exclusion; the unbelonging, and the dread of what she knew her people were capable of when they wanted something so badly.
"If your people don't know, then you don't trust them enough for them not to put you in harm's way. You don't trust that they won't use it against you, because they will." Said Luna, taking a step towards Cullen. "If Clarke finds out, she'll put the flame in your head, and you don't want that. You don't deserve that."
Although Luna was only voicing thoughts that Cullen had, she felt the need to defend Clarke against the blame. "Clarke wouldn't do that."
"Clarke tried to force it into my head." Luna reached into her pocket, pulling out the casing that contained the A.I., Cullen instantly backing up again — Luna put it away, frowning feasibly across to Cullen. "You can't tell your people. They'll either see it as a threat, or a salvation, and you deserve neither."
"You don't know what I do and don't deserve. I've killed people, just like they have. I fight, just like they do. I'm in this war, just like they are."
"People with our blood are never the ones to win."
Cullen frowned. "Why are you telling me this? My people were willing to force that thing into your head so that we could win this war."
"Because you aren't your people, and they don't have to be your people." Said Luna, before turning towards the deck where her people roamed around: freely, and safe. "We could be your people. You could live here, in peace, away from all that's willing to harm you because of the color of your blood." She looked back to Cullen, who's brows creased together in the shadow of her eyes — Luna placed a hand on her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Think about it before you're planned to leave; no more innocent people deserve to die because of Grounder traditions."