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As Lincoln stands over the unconscious warrior, he knows that he has not only the right, but the duty to kill her. He knows that she would not have hesitated to kill him, that she came for precisely that reason, to kill him and kill Idret next. And his one job, his only job, as Keeper of the Dragon, is to protect her, even if he has to give his own life to do so, as his father before him had done.
He knows that this woman, who has been hunting him like prey, tracking him down across miles, for weeks, will not give up until one of them is dead, and it should be her. She has lost the fight, after all. She lies at his feet, defeated.
But Lincoln remembers the look in her eyes, the desperate devastation, the glint of tears, the hoarse scream as she attacked him, just before he knocked her out. He saw pain written all over this woman. And Idret may be innocent, she may just be a child, a creature who has no control over her actions yet, but Lincoln knows that this stranger and her people have every reason to want revenge.
So instead of killing her, as he so easily could, he lifts her gently into his arms, like a bride or a princess, and carries her to his home.
-::-::-::-::-::-
It's been six months since the others dropped from the sky. They hadn't known about the people of Trigeda. They hadn't known anyone else had existed.
When they realized they were not alone on this new land, it was too late. They had not known about the others. They had not known about dragons. When they killed Idret's mother, Lincoln knew it was in self-defense. But it's too late now. They killed Jare and Lincoln's father and started a war, and it was one they didn't know how to fight. Lincoln tried to keep Idret away. But the dragon was new to him and when he was sleeping one night, a rogue Trigeda soldier slipped away and set her free. Frightened and lost, she found her way to the Sky People. When they fired their guns at Idret, Lincoln isn't sure exactly what happened. But he can guess.
They've been looking for her ever since, looking for Idret and looking for him. The soldier who freed the dragon was executed, but the damage was done. Once there were rumors of a leader of the Sky People, a blonde-haired girl, not much younger than the commander, and when he knew she was out there Lincoln had hope. But as far as Trigeda knows, she's been missing for two months now, and it's been hell ever since.
-::-::-::-::-::-
When the nameless woman stirs, Lincoln can tell that she's frightened. At first, she merely winces, groans, tries to press a hand to her head. Then, realizing she can't, she thrashes against her ropes. He didn't want to have to tie her up, but further back into the cave, Idret is sleeping, and Lincoln can't risk her, it is still his most important duty.
He is Keeper of the Dragon. Each clan has one. But this woman would never understand what that means, how noble his position is. How lonely.
"Let me go!" she screams, thrashing at the ropes. "Let me go!" She carries on like this for a few minutes longer. Lincoln merely watches her, silently, from across the fire. When she realizes fighting is futile, her movements cease, though her body remains tense. Exhausted, her head drops back against the wall. "Why didn't you just kill me?" she whispers, and he sees it again, that pain.
Lincoln has no answer to this, so he says nothing at all.
-::-::-::-::-::-
An hour passes. The girl sits in stubborn silence. Lincoln knows he has to figure something out, a way to feed her. He can't keep her tied up forever. But before he can think of a solution, she suddenly says, "I know you speak English. I've met your people before." Your people. She says it like it's dirty.
Lincoln looks at her, saying nothing.
"I know you can understand me!" she says, and she is so angry, Lincoln notices, so angry at the world, at everything. At him, most of all. Tears slip out of her eyes, rolling down the side of her face. "If you're going to kill me, then kill me."
Lincoln waits a moment, then says, in a low voice, "I'm not going to kill you."
Her eyes flit to his, surprised. "So you do talk."
He doesn't respond.
"If you're not going to kill me, then what are you going to do with me?"
Lincoln almost says nothing. And then, against his better judgment, he says, "Wait for your people to come for you."
A strand of hair falls across the girl's face. He feels guilty that she can't tuck it away. "No one's coming for me."
"Not your leaders?"
It's the girl's turn to be silent. For a long time, he thinks she'll say nothing. Then she whispers, "We have no leaders anymore," and turns towards the wall and that's how he knows the conversation is over.
-::-::-::-::-::-
She wakes again some time later. Lincoln is mildly worried about her head injury. After all, he was the one who hit her. But she seems fine enough. And truthfully, he should be relieved if she died. It would take her off his hands. He doesn't know what to do with the dragon as much as he doesn't know what to do with this girl.
He had always had a way with the dragons, but he had never expected to find Idret under his care so soon. The responsibility has always been daunting, but he never thought he'd have to undertake it during a war. And here he is, sitting across from a girl who fell from the sky, his father dead, Jare gone, and a dragon in his keep. A year ago, he never could have predicted this.
The girl wakes up just as he's preparing his meal. She won't say anything, he can tell she won't, but she's eyeing the food with an unmistakable envy. Lincoln grabs the bowl of broth and brings it to her. "Here," he says, but she turns her head away.
"I don't want anything from you."
"You're hungry," he says. "Let me help you."
"If you want to help me, you can start by letting me go."
Lincoln sighs, dropping the spoon. "And then?"
Her blue eyes flash. Then the anger fades. "You're right. If you let me go, I'll kill you. That's the way it has to end. For one of us, at least."
Lincoln lifts the spoon to her mouth. After a moment, reluctantly, she drinks. They do this in silence until the soup is gone. He can see in her eyes that she's ashamed, that she feels weak, powerless. So he gives her an offering, the only one he can think of. "My name," he says, "is Lincoln."
She looks at him, and is he dreaming or is there a ghost of a smile in her eyes? "I'm Octavia."
-::-::-::-::-::-
Octavia thrashes in her sleep that night. Her body pushes against the restraints and her voice cries out in sad, small whimpers. Lincoln goes to her, shaking her awake as gently as he can. When she does wake, and sees him, her eyes are wild with fear. He watches as she remembers where she is, and then they return to anger again, except for that unmistakable sense of sadness.
"You were dreaming," Lincoln says softly.
"I gathered that," she says, trying to push her body upright. He goes to help her, and at first she flinches from his touch, but then she lets him. His touch lingers against her arm before he pulls away and returns to his side of the cave. He sits there, watching her. After a long moment, she says, "You want to know what I dreamed about." It's not a question. And Lincoln isn't sure he does want to know. "I dreamed about your weapon."
Lincoln blinks. "What weapon?"
Octavia laughs, but it's a bitter, hard sound. "I thought we were past the point of lying."
"Our soldiers carry weapons. I do not," he says, and this is true aside from a simple knife for hunting.
"You know what I'm talking about."
And he does. It's why she came after him. It's why all her people want his blood. "She's not a weapon. She's just a creature."
"If that was true, then why did you set her on our camp?" Her eyes well with tears, and Lincoln feels his own heart aching.
"I didn't."
"Liar," she whispers, and it comes out like a hiss.
Lincoln says nothing.
"Whatever. I don't care what you have to say. Your little pet killed Atom, and a third of my people, and now you're both going to have to pay for that. If not by me, then by someone else."
A moment passes. "Who's Atom?"
He expects anger. He's surprised to get none. Just her voice, so sad and quiet, he can barely hear it. "He was all I had."
"I'm sorry," Lincoln says softly.
"I don't want your apology. I want Atom back."
This is the last thing she says to him for several hours.
-::-::-::-::-::-
As Octavia sat quietly, either brooding or sleeping, Lincoln was formulating a plan. He can't keep her tied up forever. And he can't let Idret come to harm. But he can't bring himself to kill this woman either, who had been through so much, whose heart was wild with pain and anger and beauty. So, when the sun rises, Lincoln approaches her with his knife.
"What are you doing?" she says, and the fear in her eyes was tempered by a sort of determination not to show weakness.
Lincoln responds only by beginning to cut her restraints.
"What are you doing?" she asks, this time bewildered. Lincoln waits until the last of the ropes have fallen and she is free to use her arms again.
"You want revenge?" he says, pressing the knife into her hands. "Then take it. But leave my creature alone. Tell your people it's over."
Octavia's grip on the knife tightens, but her eyes seem unsure. "She destroyed my home," she whispers. "She killed the only man I've ever loved."
"She was scared. She was lost." A lot like you, Lincoln thinks. A lot like your people. "She killed your love. Your people killed my father. Kill me now, and it can be over."
Octavia stands, getting to her feet shakily. Lincoln closes his eyes. He is not scared to die. And Octavia is right. The world they live in is harsh, and ugly, and someone must pay. If that someone is him, then so be it.
The knife clatters at his feet. Lincoln opens his eyes only in time to see a flicker of Octavia's hair as she runs away.
-::-::-::-::-::-
Lincoln thinks that he'll never see her again, but then, just an hour later, she shows up, looking wary, but determined all at once. "I want to see it," she says. And Lincoln understands.
He looks her over, checking for weapons, but he trusts that she is honorable, that she won't hurt Idret. So he takes her hand and leads her through the darkness.
"It's been back here the whole time?" Octavia asks. "In the cave with us?"
"Yes," Lincoln confirms. "We're almost there." When they are just around the corner from where the dragon sleeps, Lincoln stops her. "Let me go first. I will signal to you when she's ready."
At the sound of his footsteps, Idret lifts her head up, making a low rumbling sound that Lincoln knows is her way of greeting him. Gently, he rests his hand upon her head and Idret closes her eyes in pleasure. "You can come now, Octavia," he calls out.
Octavia rounds the corner, and dread is written in her every movement. The last time she saw Idret, Lincoln knows, she was razing down Octavia's village. She was murdering her people, her love. This is the monster that haunts her dreams.
"Come closer," he says, and she does. When she is at his side, he takes her hand and places it where his had just lain, atop the dragon's head. At the touch of Idret's skin, she melts, tears streaming down her face. Idret lets out a few rumbling noises, more curious than anything. She knows that as long as Lincoln is there, no one will hurt her.
Lincoln understands why Octavia came back. She needed to believe him. She needed to know that this monster was what he said she was. She needed to believe him in order to honor her word not to kill the creature, and Lincoln respects her for that. When she opens her eyes, there is a calmness in them that Lincoln is seeing for the first time.
"We didn't know there'd be anything like this when we got to Earth. There are no animals where I come from." She smiles, ever-so-slightly. "Clarke said that it was probably a hybrid creature, deformed by radiation. I thought she was full of shit."
"Who is Clarke?"
Octavia looks down, and Lincoln's heart constricts with hers. How much you lose in war. How much you never get back. "She was our leader. She and my brother went on a day trip looking for weapons two months ago and never came back."
Then, she looks him square in the face, and he knows that she's asking him a question, an important one. "I'm all alone now," she says.
Slowly, to answer it, Lincoln places his hand atop hers, his thumb brushing Idret's skin. "You don't have to be," he whispers.
The war doesn't care about them. It will rage on for as long as it wants and both their people will die. Lincoln knows this. But in this moment, on this day, in Lincoln's heart, it has finally ended.