Pawn {B.B} (1)

•17•

I Am Become Death (10,3)

Once Tyra was for sure Bellamy was sleeping, she carefully slid off his head from her lap, letting it gently rest on the mattress below his body before standing up.

"Don't worry. I won't tell my brother." Tyra looked confusedly at Octavia while she rinsed her blood soaked cloth in her pale of water.

"What is it do you mean?" Octavia gave Tyra a secretive smile, as if she knew something Tyra had not, before rushing off to help another patient.

While she was doing that, Tyra noticed one other sick person had begun to stand up from the hammock that had been set as a resting spot and rushed to their side, ready to catch them in case they fell.

"You cannot stand, you are still too weak." The person under Tyra's arms grumbled for a second, trying to push her hands off, but Tyra's hands remained where they were.

"I'm-" She stopped halfway through speaking as their eyes met, recognition flashing through them both. Tyra had caught Clarke.

"You." Clarke immediately squirmed back, Tyra not even bothering to catch her that time.

It was her fault Lincoln had even begun to be tortured, and though she had no right to hold Lincoln's grudge for him seeing as she had already forgiven Bellamy for it, Clarke was also at fault for why they were currently at war and why Tyra had gotten shocked by Raven.

"Clarke!" Octavia rushed to Clarke's side so fast she almost didn't notice Tyra standing there as stiff as a board with her hand not so subtly digging into her sleeve.

Tyra could stab Clarke in the spine, no one would notice her cause of death until it was too late. Or she could break her neck, a quicker way than Tyra had anticipated, but that would be a harder cause of death to determine. Even taking advantage of the surrounding sickness, Tyra could suffocate her with her wet rag, the sky people would believe she had died from the sickness and never suspect her.

"Octavia, get a gun. There's Grounders inside." Octavia turned her head wildly between the two women before shushing Clarke, helping her back to her hammock.

"Don't worry, Tyra's here to help." Clarke looked at Tyra, her face replicating Tyra's with the cold, sharp glare everyone else was too sick or busy to notice.

"She'll kill us all." Clarke whispered loud enough for Octavia to hear, even though Tyra's ears also picked up on the sound.

"If I wanted you dead, you would be dead. I have only come here to tend to the sick through a debt, we will go back to being enemies soon enough." Clark didn't look convinced, but Tyra wasn't in the business of convincing her. She was there to repay her debt, not reassure the very same person who was at fault for her people attacking the sky people.

Another choking cough sounded across to what Tyra knew now was a ship, like those of the children's stories she had read long ago. Immediately, Tyra released the knife in her sleeve and ran to help, pushing the girl onto her side, so she coughed out her blood while Octavia and Clarke debated whether to expose her true identity and get her killed, or stay quiet and allow her to help.

~•~

In the end, Clarke stayed silent about Tyra's true identity. Though she did make a pointed effort to stay opposite sides to where Tyra was, always being careful to not stand even an arm's length from Tyra's position.

It was a wise decision on Clarke's behalf, Tyra would indeed find a way to hurt Clarke in some way that'd not be obvious to the naked eye, if at all. A slight revenge for forcing Tyra to walk into a war she had no intention of beginning and would have ended if not for her threats and words.