Octavia doesn’t need anyone to tell her who she is–she already knows.
523 words | rating: PG-13
I am a warrior. I am powerful. I am unstoppable. They see a scared little girl. Hah! They aren’t going to live long enough to understand their mistake.
Octavia dives into the battle, sword swinging. She takes out the first grounder with a foot to the knee. He collapses in a heap, eyes wide with shock before she slits his throat with the knife in her other hand. Hot blood sprays her face, but she does nothing to wipe it away.
I am a warrior.
She spins at the sound of someone approaching, catching the next grounder off guard with a sword to his gut. She makes sure to keep eye contact as he goes down.
Let him know my power.
She takes out two more with slashes to their chests and abdomens. Her arms are growing weary already, but the battle rages on. She will not falter. She drops to her knees as another grounder charges her. She slams her shoulder into him and flips him. She misses with her knife, allowing the much larger man to roll to his feet. He laughs.
They think I’m weak because I’m small. Because I’m a girl. Because I’m Skaikru.
She fakes a little jab with the knife to test his reflexes. He smacks her sword away with his own, a smug look on his face. When he lunges, she’s ready. She does a spin move as she drops, taking his leg out from under him. He stumbles, landing awkwardly on one knee but doesn’t go down completely. Not a problem for Octavia. She easily hops to her feet and kicks him in the backside. He falls face first onto the ground.
What they don’t know is that I’m not Skaikru. And I’m not a grounder. I’m Octavia-fucking-Blake. And they are the ones who should be afraid.
The grounder turns with a growl and runs at her full speed. Octavia takes a lancing blow to her side but manages to dart away. Before the grounder can recover, she drives her sword deep into his back. She’s done playing games. She kicks the dead man free of her sword, swinging it to dislodge his blood then looks for her next target.
She’s not alone in this battle. The staccato pops of gunfire mix with clanking swords. The grunts and screams echo in the valley. Indra isn’t far away, her blade moving so fast, it’s hard to track. Clarke is holding her own with a knife—Miller covering her. And somewhere, Bellamy is picking off anyone he can that gets too close to them.
She ignores all of that as the next grounder moves in. He stops in front of her, head cocked. Octavia swings her sword again then stands in the ready position. “Bring it, asshole.”
I am powerful.
The grounder charges at the same time Octavia runs at him. At the last second, she drops into a slide. Right between his legs. He looks around in surprise and spins just in time to get a knife to his chest.
She turns her face to the sky and howls. “I am a warrior!”
And I am unstoppable.