The camp eventually settled into an uneasy, exhausted silence, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the distant, unsettling rustling of the woods. Aleksander remained awake, leaning against a tree on the edge of the perimeter. His Dark Fey empathy was a passive radar, and right now, it was picking up a chaotic storm of emotions radiating from the other side of the fire.
Clarke was projecting anxiety, exhaustion, and a sharp, bitter thread of jealousy that felt completely out of place given their current survival situation. He knew exactly what had triggered it. He decided to wait until the camp was fully asleep to address it.
Hours later, Clarke woke up with a start. The hard ground and the biting chill in the air made sleep impossible. She sat up, wrapping her thin jacket tighter around herself. As her eyes adjusted to the dark beyond the fading embers of the campfire, she gasped softly.
The forest was glowing.
Tiny, bioluminescent spores drifted through the air like floating stars, while the grass and the bark of the massive trees pulsed with a soft, ethereal blue and green light. The radiotrophic flora Aleksander had mentioned earlier was fully active, painting the dark woods in breathtaking, alien colors.
Mesmerized, Clarke pushed herself up. She took a few cautious steps away from the sleeping group, reaching out to brush her fingers against a glowing fern. It was beautiful, a stark contrast to the sterile, metallic grays she had stared at for her entire life on the Ark.
"You know, walking away from camp in the middle of the night is a really bad idea."
Clarke violently jumped, spinning around. Aleksander was standing just a few feet away, his footsteps completely silent against the forest floor. The soft blue light of the flora caught the sharp angles of his face, making his glamoured brown eyes look entirely unreadable.
She let out a harsh breath, stepping forward and slapping him hard on the arm. "Don't scare me like that, Alex! It is not funny."
Aleksander didn't even flinch at the hit. A faint, easy smile touched his lips. "I wasn't trying to be funny. I was just making sure our fearless leader didn't wander into a nest of mutated wildlife."
He stepped closer, the unnatural, comforting warmth radiating from his skin immediately chasing away the chill in the air around her. He looked down at her, his smile fading into a more perceptive, serious expression. "So, why the long face? I noticed you were very annoyed earlier. You were practically stabbing the fire with that stick."
Clarke looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly—though she hoped the blue light of the forest hid it. She crossed her arms defensively. "Nothing. I'm just tired."
Aleksander tilted his head, his gaze piercing right through her walls. "You are lying. I know when you lie, Clarke. You pick at the hem of your jacket, just like you're doing right now."
Clarke instantly dropped her hands to her sides, glaring at him. She opened her mouth to deny it again, but the quiet, unyielding patience in his eyes made her deflate.
"It's Octavia," Clarke muttered, hating how petty she sounded admitting it out loud. "She's... reckless. And you're just feeding into it. Draping your jacket over her, whispering to her in the dark. You're supposed to be helping me keep this camp together, not playing into her rebellious teenager act."
Aleksander let out a quiet, understanding sigh. He didn't mock her or dismiss her feelings. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, tactical murmur.
"I'm not feeding into anything, Clarke. I'm focused on survival," Aleksander explained, his hyper-analytical mind laying out the board for her. "Look at our situation. You have the strategic mind, but half this camp resents you because of your parents and your Alpha Station badge. They won't follow you easily. They want to follow Bellamy."
Clarke frowned, the jealousy receding slightly as she listened to his logic. "Bellamy is a criminal with a stolen gun playing dictator."
"Exactly," Aleksander agreed smoothly. "But Bellamy has charisma, and he has a protective instinct that makes the others feel safe. We need someone with strong, aggressive leadership qualities like him if we want to manage these hundred delinquents and keep them alive. But Bellamy is paranoid and unpredictable. He won't listen to you, and he certainly won't listen to me without strong deterrence."
Aleksander looked back toward the camp, his eyes landing on the shadowed lump where Octavia was sleeping under his jacket. "The only person Bellamy listens to is Octavia. She is his anchor. If I secure her trust—if I make her understand what it takes to survive down here—she will steer Bellamy for us. We get her, we get him. We get him, we get the camp."
Clarke stared at him, her mind rapidly processing the sheer, calculating brilliance of his strategy.
He hadn't been flirting with Octavia. He had been securing a tactical asset.
The realization hit Clarke like a wave of cold water, followed immediately by a profound sense of relief. She should have known. She remembered how Aleksander had been back on the Ark. Even as a teenager, he had been adored by half the girls in their sector—charming, brilliant, and untouchable. But he had always been practically stone-faced around them, completely oblivious or entirely indifferent to their flirting. He never reacted. He only ever truly let his guard down around her and Wells.
A heavy weight lifted off Clarke's chest, and a small, embarrassed smile tugged at her lips. "So... it's just diplomacy, then?"
"Purely tactical," Aleksander confirmed, his eyes shifting back to her, softening entirely. "I told you, I'm here to make sure you survive. Whatever moves I have to make on the board to ensure that happens, I'll make."
Clarke looked up at him, the soft
bioluminescence of the forest reflecting in her eyes. The relief was intoxicating, but as she thought back to the way Octavia had looked at him—the breathless, wide-eyed way she had leaned into his touch—a new, troubling thought formed in her mind.
He might just be playing a tactical game, Clarke thought mentally, biting the inside of her cheek. But even if he doesn't have an ounce of romantic interest in her... I can say with absolute certainty she is definitely interested in him.
"Alright," Clarke whispered, letting the remaining tension drain from her shoulders. "But next time you decide to play political mastermind, maybe give me a heads-up so I don't think you've lost your mind."
Aleksander let out a low, genuine laugh. "Noted. Now, come on. You need actual sleep, not just standing in the glowing weeds."