FROZEN STARS

MORNING FELT FOREIGN WITHOUT HIS arms around her.

One night, and she'd already built a home in his warmth.

She could still smell him on her jacket — his jacket, the guard jacket that he'd wrapped around her shoulders the morning before — and it sent her mind reeling. As she came to her senses, she buried her nose deeper into the coat's collar, groaning as daylight and the shifting of Elijah beside her jolted her from her slumber.

"Good morning, sunshine." Elijah chuckled at the sound of Marley's displeasure.

She heard Raven laugh too, a short, breathy and half-hearted laugh, that she didn't blame her for only managing to muster. Elijah patted Marley's arm as she squinted up at the morning light that flooded through the thin fabric of their tent. She groaned as she stretched, her back aching from the uneven ground she'd slept on. She'd spent most of the night tossing and turning; half-waking to check Elijah and Raven were okay, the other half worrying about the day to come. The notion of it weighed heavy on everyone's minds too, she was sure.

She heard the tent unzipping before she opened her eyes. The murmuring of unfamiliar voices — Grounders — rose before them as Raven clambered out of the opening, the metal brace on her leg clattering awkwardly against the ground as she stood.

"The Grounders are almost ready to leave," Elijah told her, stretching his legs out awkwardly in front of him. He still couldn't straighten his knee properly, the lingering toll of his still-healing burn. The laces of his boot were still tied only halfway to avoid the pain.

"Do you think they'd be mad if I asked for five more minutes?" She questioned quietly.

He chuckled a little. "I probably wouldn't risk it."

Marley huffed out a sigh into her arm, the only thing she had to use as a pillow, and peeled open her exhausted eyes. Elijah's half-lidded brown ones blinked down at her. His smile still didn't reach them. "And she's awake!" He chuckled, poking her once, gentle, in the arm.

She smiled and flopped onto her back, a yawn pulling from her lips. She groaned and pushed herself up to sit, scrubbing a hand over her face to wipe away the sleep that clouds her mind and weighs down her eyelids. "Just give me a couple of minutes," she insisted, stretching her arms out in front of her.

Elijah grinned again - that still half-hearted smile that didn't light up his brown eyes like it used to - and made to step out of the tent. "Nice jacket, by the way." He noted, poking at the navy fabric wrapped around her, the grin turning quick to a smirk. Marley tried to swat him away, to knock his hand back from its prodding and poking, before he ducked out of the tent, with a hum of amusement.

‣ ‣ ‣

She saw him from across the camp; he'd slept on the floor — she could tell by the state of his hair, all wild and messy — and she had to hold herself back from striding over and flattening down his curls into something far less chaotic. But Marley stuck beside Elijah, instead, and watched Bellamy from across the way, serious as he conspired with Clarke and Abby and Kane. His face only relaxed when he saw her; once a cutting scowl, but soft when he noticed her reserved smile. He watched her across the way, eyes gentle at the sight of her.

It was as if her being there made everything okay.

For as much as everything could be okay.

She took a breath, mostly just to steady herself. Her head still spun — everything was still so fresh, so new; it almost overwhelmed her, the rush, the feelings — and if it weren't for the fear — for where they were going, for the Grounders — anchoring her to the floor, she felt as if she would float away, into the trees and the leaves and the stars above.

A hand pressed its way into hers; palm to palm, its fingers squeezed Marley's tight. It drew her from her daydream, tore her gaze away from Bellamy, and almost startled her in its suddenness. She hadn't even heard whoever it was approaching. She glanced up at whoever had pulled up beside her, at whoever was gripping her hand so tight and smiled.

She'd seen Elijah creep away out of the corner of her eye. He'd headed towards Raven, and she'd noted the solemn expression on both of their faces as they talked about something she couldn't hear. But he'd found his way back to her, weaved back through the small crowd of Grounders and friends alike. Elijah smiled back solemnly.

"Are you okay?" She asked. Though her voice was lost beneath the wind blowing through the leaves.

He seemed to hear her, though.

Elijah smiled down at her and squeezed her hand once, a brief, wordless reply, before his gaze zoned out ahead of him. He stared forward, at the cluster of heavily armed and armoured Grounders shooting them glances that sent the icy chill of fear through them all. At Finn's body, shrouded in fabric, atop a wagon with rattling wheels. At their friends, who tiptoed around him and Raven like they were fragile, like they might shatter at any moment.

Elijah clung to Marley like she was a lifeline.

She didn't mind.

‣ ‣ ‣

Tondc rose up before them like a fortress from one of the stories Marley's grandmother used to tell her.

With its jagged barbed wire fence, patched together from sharply sliced metal, and spires of wood, sharpened to spikes high above their heads, that reached up towards the greying sky above, it was terrifying. Marley supposed that its intention was to keep people out - whether it was for them, the Sky People, or Mount Weather - and it definitely served its purpose. Her breath caught as she neared the gates and Elijah's grip tightened around her fingers.

The Grounder's horses came to a halt and the Commander and her second dismounted. Gustus turned to them, a scowl on his face. "Weapons," he demanded, eyes flicking between their faces and the guns they clutched close to their chests.

Lincoln stepped forward and handed Gustus his knife. "We need to disarm before we enter," he told them, before stepping back beside Octavia.

Without hesitation or question, Clarke stepped forward and placed her weapons into a basket another Grounder held out for them. The Grounder - with a metal muzzle obscuring half his face - moved soundlessly through the crowd, the metal clang of discarded weapons ringing through the silence of the trees. Marley was relieved to drop her weapon into the basket. She'd almost grown used to the weight of it but the loss of it was an undeniable relief.

Bellamy was one of the last to abandon his weapon. After a scathing glare at Gustus - one which the Grounder returned, entirely unphased - he unhooked his rifle over his shoulder and handed him the weapon. Kane shot him a similar glare as the Grounder brushed past Bellamy and stepped before him, and thrust his weapon into Gustus' expectant grasp. Raven was last; her gaze was fire, burning with anger and malice, even as she looked up at the Grounder, who towered over her like a mountain would a tree. Raven's lips puckered and Marley was half-convinced she was going to spit straight into his eye. But she held herself back, glowering at the man before her as he untucked knife after knife from inside her jacket.

Marley almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it, but held back. She figured it probably wasn't the best idea to laugh at a Grounder's expense.

As soon as Gustus and his crew were satisfied, they gave the call back to the Commander. The gates rumbled open, hinged of rusted and creaking metal protesting each movement, and their crew stepped through.

They were greeted by the stench of wood smoke — so strong it almost burned Marley's eyes, hitting her like a slap in the face — and a thousand eyes, all glaring at them like they were the enemy. And they were. To them, they were. And they carried with them the murderer that had slain a hundred of their people. Marley chewed on her lip, her hand clasping tighter around Elijah's, who hadn't been able to let go. They moved through the crowd to a throng of jeers, all of which Marley couldn't understand, spat at them with so much vitriol that it almost felt like acid within her ears.

The Commander, Gustus and Indra came to a stop before them, at the front of the group. A man blocked their path. He spoke in a stream of Trigedasleng; Marley could only pit out a scattering of words, the ones that weren't too different from the language she spoke. No emotion touched the Commander or her seconds' faces as the man spat his words at them. Instead, she turned towards Gustus, nodded once and the soldier stepped towards the man. He was so much taller, looming over him, like a statue. The man had to crane his neck to look at his face.

The first punch knocked the man straight to the floor, with a groan and a surprised cry. Then Gustus pounced, raining down blows upon the man's face with fury. Those Grounders, fathered around to watch their enemies dragged into camp, stood and watched in thick silence, biting their tongues and far too worried that they would face the same fate if they bothered to step in.

Clarke rushed forward. "Commander, stop him," she pleaded. "Please-" Her eyes darted towards the Grounder, who was half-conscious and bleeding darkly from his nose. "They'll blame us for this, too."

The Commander considered her plea for a moment, before raising a demand in Trigedasleng. Gustus stopped almost immediately, and showed the man back onto the floor. The man groaned, going half-limp, coughing and spluttering as someone helped him to his unsteady feet. He didn't dare look back at any of their group, maybe out of fear that he would actually be killed, this time.

The Commander stepped forward and turned to where the bulk of the Grounders stood, lurking behind them like shadows, ready to pounce. "The Sky People march with us now," she insisted, "Anyone who tries to stop that will pay with their life."

A resigned silence falls upon the Grounders.

Satisfied with their obedience, the Commander turned abruptly on her heels and strode off with renewed purpose.

Marley hadn't realised she was clutching Elijah hand so tightly until he tugged on it, urging her on. Her eyes were wide and staring, and it took a moment for her to snap out of whatever trance she found herself in. These Grounders used violence to right all wrongs; to punish, to quell obedience, to insight so much fear that they dared not risk defiance. If they put even a foot wrong, they would surely meet the same fate.

Elijah didn't drop her hand. He didn't even make a move to. She should have been the one comforting him, not the other way around. He smiled a little - as much as he could muster - and urged her forward with a small tug on her hand.

If it weren't for the small squeeze of his palm against hers, ever so briefly, every so often, she'd thought she might collapse. He was there, anchoring her - just as she anchored him - as they walked through this hell that they found themselves in.

Their funeral procession cut a space through the ever-growing, evidently-angry group of Grounders who stared them down as they inched forward, towards their destination.

a/n: me updating this after forever? yeah that's never happened before hahahaha I swear someday I will finish this