Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a typical morning inside the walls of Camp Jaha. People were moving about their lives, albeit slowly. Moving into the open air via the main entrance of the downed Ark, Raven slowly limped towards the mess building. It had been two years since the mountain, but the building and the rest of Camp Jaha remained half finished. It wasn’t for lack of will, at least not for everyone, but the members of Skaikru, once so eager to explore and enjoy their newfound home on the ground, quickly discovered that things were more difficult than they could’ve imagined.

Raven reflected on the time that had passed, the things that had changed, and those that remained the same. Those that had survived the mountain had returned, bloody and broken, thankful just to be alive. Well, she admitted, some were thankful. She and a handful of others were able to recognize that the decisions, the sacrifices made by Clarke in order to save her people, Raven included, were both drastic and necessary. While many blamed Clarke, either for her decision to trust the Grounders and their Commander, or for the complete slaughter of the residents of Mt. Weather, Raven was not one of them. She knew, as surely as the pain that came from her injuries every day, that Clarke had only done what she’d had to do. Raven figured that it was a truly despicable person who relied on someone else to save them, then faulted them for how they accomplished it.

That isn’t to say that Raven had always sung Clarke’s praises, far from it. In the beginning, she’d been introduced to Clarke at the same time she saw Earth for the first time. She’d seen the determination and the beauty, and could see why the delinquents followed her. If she was being honest with herself, she trusted Clarke in that first moment to have her back, much more than she’d ever trusted Abby during the days leading up to her unauthorized trip to the ground. That’s what made it all the more devastating when she’d learned that Finn had slept with Clarke. Not even ten days on the ground, and he’d cheated. She wanted to blame Clarke, oh did she want to blame her. Raven had a lot of faults, but self delusion was rarely one of them. No, Clarke had no way of knowing that Finn was with Raven. The fault lay solely with him. That didn’t stop her from giving Clarke the cold shoulder for a while, but how long could you hold grudges on the ground? It turns out, not long at all, because a crazier situation is right around the corner.

There was always something about Finn, Raven came to realize earlier, that was just a touch too impulsive, a bit too obsessive about him when it came to certain things. Nothing could exemplify that for her that quite as well as his murder of the elderly and children of TonDC, under the guise of learning what’d happened to Clarke. In the end, she’d lost Finn, not to Clarke, but to justice. She’d been angry after Finn had died, angry and, somewhere deep inside her, perhaps the smallest bit relieved. Not because he’d cheated on her, she wasn’t that petty. No, she felt relief that the instability in him hadn’t cost more lives, relief that it wouldn’t be allowed to cost more in the future, and finally, relief that Clarke had done what she herself could not.

She considered herself a strong person, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to give Finn the mercy that would still allow justice to be served, but without the cruelty. Clarke had done that for her. It wasn’t selfless; she knew Clarke considered him a friend, though nowhere near as close of a friend as he was before Raven re-entered the picture. But, while Clarke could take standing there watching the thousand cuts, Raven knew she couldn’t. Raven remained silent, but she knew that her eyes told Clarke everything, begged her to spare Raven the anguish of seeing her first true love suffer. And so Clarke had done what she always does, she did what had to be done so that no one else had to. Clarke carried the burden.

Raven would realize later, in the time that had passed since the mountain, that she’d had a case of hero worship for Clarke. Sure Clarke was beautiful, but this wasn’t a crush. Raven had admired her strength, her loyalty, and her determination to always do whatever she could for her people. And while Raven wasn’t one of the original one hundred, she knew Clarke considered her one of her people. She’d held Raven as she cried over the death of Finn. She’d kept Raven by her side during the fighting with the 300 at the dropship. She had listened to Raven’s ideas, about the hydrazine, about the bomb at the bridge, and dozens of other little things. She’d valued Raven’s knowledge, and input, but even moreso, she’d shown Raven that she valued her friendship. Coming out of her musing for a moment, Raven entered the dilapidated building and stood in line for what meager food was on offer.

Life at Camp Jaha had only gotten worse after the mountain. While Raven understood that the Commander must have made the only decision she could for her people, almost no one else saw it that way. Indeed, even Raven herself came out of the ordeal with a hatred that was as powerful as it was misdirected. To learn how many of her the Arkers had died, and what Clarke had to do to rescue those she could, had served to make her angry at Lexa and the Grounders on Clarke’s behalf. It was only after Kane had sought her out, talking with her over the next several months that Raven came to understand not just the logic behind the Commander’s decision, but what it must’ve cost both Lexa and Clarke. While Kane wasn’t privy to everything that had happened, he knew enough to watch any time Lexa and Clarke interacted. It was when he relayed the look of absolute betrayal and heartbreak on Clarke’s face as Lexa had ordered her people’s retreat from the mountain that Raven truly began to understand. Raven was nothing if not intelligent, and adding two and two together was child’s play.

She refocused her thoughts as she collected her half scoop of the slop that they seemed to eat more and more often lately. One of the former food workers from the Ark had said it was like Cream of Wheat, whatever the Hell that was. As she limped away, her squeaking leg brace reminded her once again of how completely screwed her life had become. Rather than get the physical therapy she knew she needed, she’d let Abby convince her to settle for painkillers. Abby and Jackson were simply too busy, Abby had said, to devote that much time to a single patient. Two years later, they’d done her no favors. She sat at an empty table and took the two pills, wishing again that she could stop taking them. While their drug supply was extremely limited, it seemed that she at least rated high enough on Abby’s list to keep receiving them. Snorting to herself, she knew that the reality was that without the pills, she’d be useless to Abby, and that wouldn’t be allowed.

After the mountain, and with no help coming from the grounders, they’d turned to trying to hunt the surrounding area for themselves, and despite all of Wick’s bluster and self-promotion, they’d turned to her to piece together what little tech they had left. Whether it was repairing the heat and air circulation within the downed Ark station itself, ensuring the walkie-talkies worked, or fixing the rifles and pistols they relied on to hunt and defend themselves, her work never really stopped. There were times that she’d wanted to let Wick or any of the other technically inclined people start pulling their weight, but it’d quickly been made clear that her value was in her job, and without doing Abby and the council’s bidding, in their eyes, she’d have no need for the painkillers. Oh, hell yes she’d called their bluff. After six days of unbearable pain, sweats, shivering, and vomiting, she’d given in and taken the pills. Six hours later, she’d been kicked awake and told to get to work.

She wasn’t the only one living a miserable existence. It seemed that only the council and Abby herself were spared the hardships enjoyed by the masses. As she looked up from her bowl of lumpy snot, she spotted a familiar swagger entering the building. She quickly corrected her previous thought, the council got the best, and so did their lackeys. As Bellamy moved to the servers, ignoring the line, he was given food from the previously covered container. It seems that brown-nosing bastards rated high enough on the food chain to get eggs and what appeared to be ham.

As Raven scowled and her stomach protested the sight of real food that wasn’t entering her mouth, she recalled what a piece of shit he’d turned out to be. After a revenge fuck back when they were all still at the dropship, she’d seen how Bellamy began to act like less of a douche as long as Clarke was around. It seemed like the leash that he’d been kept on had allowed him to shed, or in reality suppress, his worst tendencies. After returning from the mountain with an intense but pretty girl named Echo, all that had changed. It seemed like almost overnight that he’d gone back to being the selfish prick that he used to be. He’d been with Echo for a month, but it seemed that once the honeymoon phase was over, and her gratitude for being rescued from being bled dry had worn off, there was trouble in paradise. It was only weeks later when Echo had turned up missing, though Raven knew from the lazy and worthless guards that Echo had snuck out of camp and returned to her people. Bellamy was like a piece of garbage floating in space, whatever was the strongest influence on him, that’s where he gravitated.

Having finished her slop long before, she was abruptly brought out of her thoughts by Bellamy kicking the leg of her chair.

“The fuck?” Raven spat, shooting a hand forward to keep her cup of murky water from spilling.

“You’re done eating. Get to work Crip” he spat, the sneer on his face clear. Raven considered whether he’d keep his breakfast down after her fist slammed into his balls, but she decided against it. It wouldn’t gain her anything except a moment of satisfaction, and she didn’t need the trouble it would bring from on high.

Flipping him off as she struggled to her feet, she deposited her empty bowl in the pile by the door, finished her murky water, and moved outside. Just another day in paradise. Maybe she could find Lincoln and Octavia. Other than O’s acting like a spoiled child who’d had her shiny toy taken away, she was usually alright to talk to. Raven knew she had a good thirty minutes before anyone would notice that she wasn’t in her workshop.

Walking back through the camp, she tried not to let the looks of pity and disgust get to her. She couldn’t believe that the people that she’d called friend, Jasper, Monty, Octavia, Lincoln, Bellamy, Harper, Monroe, even Kane, had let things get this bad. Sure, she was crippled, but that didn’t mean she was worthless damnit! Other than Abby (and she had her doubts sometimes), she was the smartest person in this shithole. Wick would argue otherwise, but after he turned into a controlling dick she’d stopped listening to him. Misogynist dick or not, he couldn’t have been that smart, thinking he knew how to rewire high voltage without cutting the power first. Sure she’d been sad, but after so many deaths, it was more upsetting that the smell of boot wrapped in burnt, leathery bacon and deepfried asshole took two weeks to leave the confines of the Ark.

As she spotted Octavia climbing up into the guard tower by the gate for morning watch, she couldn’t help but think about how much Octavia had changed. Sure, she was the same brash, outspoken warrior in training that she always was, but it seemed that being cut off from the Grounders had gotten to her. She still had Lincoln, but without Indra’s influence, the negative aspects of her personality had flourished. Petulant was too soft a word for it. Over the last two years, it seemed like Octavia’s views had evolved. At first, she’d begrudgingly admired Clarke’s strength at the mountain, despite still being angry about the missile that hit TonDC. She’d let the little secret slip about six months later, during another of her brooding sessions.

Yes, Octavia admired Clarke’s strength, but slowly that turned until finally, every hardship visited on the Arkers, and Lincoln and Octavia specifically, was now Clarke’s fault. When hunting parties failed to return, and no trace was found, well, it must’ve been Clarke selling them out to the grounders. As the Ark’s systems continued to degrade, and the weather turned more harsh, well, it was Clarke’s fault for insisting that the mountain be sealed and keeping the keycard as they left. Come to think of it, Raven was a bit miffed about that herself. Surely they’d have some canned food, and blankets! She’d lick a reaper armpit for a nice, fluffy warm blanket. Okay, maybe two blankets and a steak.

Even Lincoln’s choice to ignore the order to retreat, leading to his banishment from his people, became Clarke’s fault in Octavia’s mind. As Octavia had explained it one night, surely if Heda valued Clarke enough to listen to her strategies against the mountain, Clarke could get the Commander to reconsider. Hell, Clarke had saved the Commander from the missile, that had to earn Clarke brownie points.

Raven paused and considered how many years it’d been since she had a brownie before moving on with a frown. On and on Octavia went, and Raven knew it was bullshit. Octavia couldn’t face the fact that, while Clarke was their leader, and a damned good one, she wasn’t God. Sometimes you just got dealt shitty cards. As she limped towards the guard tower, feeling her leg brace creak again, on the verge of coming apart, again, she knew all about getting a shitty hand in life. Well, at least they were alive.

Speaking of shitty cards and being alive, it came as quite a shock, about a year after the mountain, when survivors arrived outside their gate. It seems that Farm Station had landed one hell of a ways north, in Azgeda territory. Since Echo was no longer there, they didn’t have a lot of information. From what the survivors said, the queen, someone named Nia, had made a deal with the Commander. While none of them knew what the deal was, it meant that the survivors would be marched south, to Camp Jaha. You’d think that this would make the Arkers like the Commander and at least the local grounders more, right? Right?! Wrong. If the grounders could negotiate and get the survivors back, feeding them on the way, why weren’t they helping with the Arkers already there? Raven couldn’t believe the short-sightedness, but she’d heard the non-stop whining and entitlement. The grounders could hunt a hell of a lot better, could make clothes and weapons, had horses. Why did the Arkers have to suffer when the grounders could provide? She’d heard it more and more over the months after the survivors showed up.

Raven knew the truth, that they were dying. It was only a matter of time until the heating system gave up entirely, until they stopped being able to make even the little food they could manage. She knew why too. You can’t cling to the Arker, the Skaikru, way of life when you’re on the ground. You have to adapt to your environment, and other than Kane, Octavia, Lincoln, and Raven herself, she didn’t think that any of them actually understood that. No, she decided, it wasn’t that they didn’t understand it, it was that none of them wanted to put forth the fucking effort it would take to chop down trees and build real homes. They didn’t want to learn how to hunt the right way, despite Lincoln offering to teach them. They didn’t want to become grounders, and that pride, that arrogance, was killing them. Some of them tried, but Lincoln and Octavia could only hunt so much, and their spoils always went to the council and the kiss-asses.

As Raven reached the base of the guard tower, she heard Octavia whining about metal walls and the lack of freedom in the camp. The only time anyone was allowed outside the gate was to hunt, fish, gather food and wood, or to bury another unlucky body. Then again, in death they were free of this nightmare, weren’t they?

“Hey O, quit your bitching. At least your room is warm” Raven half shouted from the foot of the ladder, referencing the fact once again that she was living in a room with a gaping hole in the hull.

Sticking her head out of the guard post to respond, Octavia huffed “Yeah well, I’m tired of feeling like a sardine!”

Raven laughed “You’ve never even seen a sardine. The closest you ever came was that river eel that took a bite while you were trying to flirt on your first day on Earth”.

Hearing Lincoln chuckle, Octavia whipped her head around and gave him a dirty look. Seeing this, Lincoln raised his hands in surrender and went back to sketching in his journal.

Sticking her head back out, she was about to lay into Raven when she saw Bellamy stomping his way in their direction. Sighing, she knew what was going to happen once he got there. Lowering her voice, she whispered “Bell’s coming. Take off to your left and I’ll distract him, hurry.”

Raven decided that it’d be better not to look, and only waited long enough for O to start talking in a loud voice again, before dashing off (as quick as she could dash with this piece of shit brace) in the direction O had suggested.

“BELL! What are you doing out here with the little people? Come to see your favorite sister, or just to lord your position as chief kiss-ass over us again? Oh I know, you’ve gone through all the women and you’re looking for a big bear of a man to give you what you really need!”

As Bellamy approached, sighing at his sister’s constant undermining of his authority, and the unwanted but oddly intriguing picture her words gave him, he prepared himself for another round in their never-ending argument about being allowed to set up a tent outside the gates.

Just as he was about to respond, Lincoln looked up from his journal, peering out and away from the camp, towards the treeline in the distance. As he continued to watch, he saw it again, the brief but distinct movement of the underbrush at the base of the trees.

Turning to Octavia, Lincoln nudged her shoulder and pointed towards the motion, still subtle but definitely something.

Leaning forward to get a better view, Octavia holds up a hand to Bellamy to forestall whatever he was about to say, as if it’d be something important. As the underbrush moves even more distinctly than before, Octavia reaches to her belt for the small radio that Raven had constructed for the guards to use.

Making sure that it was on the right channel, she held it up and pressed the button “This is Octavia at the front gate. We see movement in the trees at two o’clock. Hunting party, get up here now. Lunch just volunteered!” she finished with a smirk.

Turning back to look at Bellamy, she saw that he was climbing up the tower now as well, so she eased closer to Lincoln to make room for her brother. As he reached the top and began looking for the motion in the distance, they each froze for the moment as a horse and rider moved into view.

While everyone knew that the grounders were out there, they hadn’t seen any since the mountain. Even when the Farm Station survivors appeared, the grounders leading them to Camp Jaha had left them an hour before reaching the camp. As the three continued to stare at the new development, a second rider appeared.

Coming out of his shock, Bellamy reached for Octavia’s radio, having left his inside the Ark. Taking it from her limp fingers, he ordered for the hunting party to stand down and for security to report to the front gate. Switching channels, he reported to Abby and any of the councilors listening that there was a grounder approaching. If anyone noticed his voice shaking and the trembling of his hands, no one mentioned it.

Finally, after both riders had cleared the foliage, the trio could clearly see that they were warriors, and they were big. They carried swords, wore armor, and both appeared comfortable in the saddle.

To Lincoln’s experienced eye, they were riding war horses, reserved for the most experienced of gona. By their bearing, they were not surprised to see the camp, so they’d come here on purpose. After having paused for about fifteen seconds, the warriors moved ahead slowly. Finally, a third figure on horseback appeared. That figure, cloaked and wearing a hood, was riding a horse even larger than the other gona. It moved easily over the ground, and the three traversed the thousand or so feet from the edge of the treeline to the gates in an unhurried manner, the cloaked figure riding behind the other two.

As the guards summoned by Bellamy finally bothered to show up, clothes askew, rifles held haphazardly, Bellamy ordered “Spread out, form a defensive line. We’ve got grounders headed our way”.

The guards, such as they were, started to move and ready their weapons, half left the safeties on, and most put their fingers on the triggers despite the clear training not to do so by Kane. From what Raven could see having snuck back into view of the gate, all of the guards looked scared shitless. No one had seen a grounder in years, and any who’d fought them knew they’d hand you your ass if you were lucky.

Having formed some kind of defensive line, Bellamy turned his attention back to the grounders.

The group approached the gate, not slowing a bit as the rifles were pointed in their direction, and their features became more clear. Both bearded men, both muscled enough to put Lincoln to shame, and both wearing war paint. Lincoln knew that this could mean that they’d come for a fight, but likely it was meant as a sign of the important nature of their visit.

This close, Lincoln could also make out by their hair and tattoos that the gona were Trikru. Working to suppress the emotion from showing on his face, he again felt the keen bite of isolation from his people. He loved Octavia with his entire heart, but the call of the trees and the only life he had known still weighed on him.

After the riders reached about fifteen feet from the gate, they stopped in unison. Murmurs from the crowd drew Bellamy’s attention. Onlookers behind the guards, roused by the commotion and eager for some new development in their boring lives, continued to gather. Through the crowd, first Abby, then Kane and the rest of the new council pushed their way through. Upon seeing Kane, the sloppy guards seem to try to pull themselves into some kind of order and formation, their respect for him clear.

As Abby made it to the front, the look of anger and something else shining in her eyes, one of the grounders calmly and smoothly dismounts. The guards nervously raised their weapons until a clear order holds them back.

Kane, having watched the poor showing of malnourished and undertrained guards, orders “Easy. They have no weapons drawn. Stay alert but we won’t make the first move”.

Having heard Marcus’ order, Abby scowled at him, obviously not sharing his hope for a peaceful chat and hoping a false move will end whatever this is before it starts. Clearing her throat, Abby venomously spits “Who are you and what are you doing at our camp?” As she finishes speaking, the crowd shifts nervously on their feet.

The first grounder, now dismounted, turns to Abby and speaks clearly “I am Ryder kom Trikru. This is Rivo kom Trikru.” he said, indicating the other warrior still mounted beside him. “We protect Wanheda, who has come to speak to your leader and council”.

As Ryder spoke the name Wanheda, Lincoln let out a gasp from his position in the guard tower. Quickly descending the ladder and approaching Kane and Abby, he whispered “The third figure, in the hood and cloak, that must be Wanheda”. Abby and Kane could hear the reverence and awe with which he spoke, usually only reserved for his Heda.

Abby turned to Lincoln, “Who or what is Wanheda, and why exactly should I care?”

Hearing her rant, Kane sighed, Lincoln wished he could do the same.

“Wanheda is not a what Abby kom Skaikru. In our legends, Wanheda is one of our greatest warriors. Throughout the years, the Spirit of Death has chosen a vessel that embodies it’s will. The vessel chosen is always powerful, fierce in combat, possessing uncompromising will. By surviving, by killing, and by this fierce will, Death takes notice and once chosen, Wanheda dispenses death to all those that oppose them.”

He continued, “When I was banished by my people, the spirit of Wanheda had not chosen a vessel in some time. I’m unsure who would have been chosen by the spirit of Death to become, literally, The Commander of Death.”

Marcus tried to get Abby’s attention, but once Lincoln had finished, Abby turned with an even more fierce expression back to the grounders.

“Whoever this Commander of Death is, we don’t want or need them here. We’re not at war, but that can certainly change if you’re looking for one.” Abby seethed.

Seeing things starting to unravel, as they often did where Abby was concerned these days, Kane murmured “I don’t think that’s a wise decision Abby, refusing to meet with the only grounders we’ve seen in years. It’s not like we don’t need help, desperately” he reminded her, again taking in the sight of his people, falling apart and slowly starving.

The prolonged discussion between Kane, Abby, and Lincoln had the guards shifting nervously, but Ryder and the other Trikru remained stoic in the face of so many Mountain weapons pointing at them.

“I highly suggest letting them in and hearing their words if you do not want a fight.” Lincoln urgently whispered to Abby.

“Fine. I’ll let you enter, but your weapons stay outside of my camp” Abby snapped.

Wanheda sat on the giant horse, quietly pleased at how scared all the Sky people looked. Perhaps that fear would motivate them to listen. Knowing that was too much to ask for, at least in the beginning, perhaps it’d keep them from doing anything stupid for the moment.

Careful to talk quietly enough to not be overheard by Lincoln, Octavia, or Kane, the three people amongst the Skaikru that had a chance of understanding, Wanheda murmured in Trig “ Shed only your weapons that are in plain sight ”, dismounting immediately after.

“ Sha Wanheda ” The guards replied respectfully.

Wanheda and the guards placed their weapons into their corresponding sheaths attached to the saddles and approached the gates of Camp Jaha.

As this was happening, Abby ordered the gates opened then led the grounders through the camp and into the Ark. The members of the council followed in after the three grounders who were looking around, not in curiosity, but scanning for threats. Once they reached the council room, Abby sat at the head of the table with Kane and Bellamy to her right and Octavia, Lincoln and Raven to her left. There were also eight Ark guards spread throughout the room. Wanheda was seated at the other end of the table with Ryder and Rivo standing on either side.

Just before the final guard closed the council room door, a final figure stepped into the room, Charles Pike. Taking a seat at the council table, Abby gave him a withering look mixed with something none of them recognized.

Having had enough of waiting, Abby got straight to the point; “Who the hell are you and why are you here?” Abby directed at the cloaked figure. As no answer came, her temper reached new heights with her gaze locked on the hooded figure yet to be revealed.

After making the Skaikru in the room sweat for a few more moments, Wanheda stood and reached for the hood. The group collectively held their breath, growing tense and quiet until Wanheda finally spoke.

“Ai laik Wanheda, Klark kom Trikru”.

Chapter Text

“Ai laik Wanheda, Klark kom Trikru”

All of the Arkers in the room remained frozen in shock. On the other side of the room, at the end of the table, stood Clarke. She had warpaint on in the form of three claw slashes going from her right temple to the left side of her chin. Her once long blonde hair was now just above her shoulders with red ends. The left side of her head was shaved down to stubble and tattooed with vines that ran all way down her neck and disappeared under her armour.

“Holy….”
“Fuck….”

Raven and Bellamy said at the same time. Everyone was so shocked that Clarke was right in front of them that they forgot that she had two grounders with her, or that she was there for a reason.

The silence and stillness was shattered by the icey voice of one very pissed Octavia Blake
“All the people you’ve killed and let die, the name fits”

Having heard Octavia’s whining from the moment she survived TonDC until they had last spoken, Clarke was passed the point where she’s bother with answering Octavia’s petulant outbursts. She’d hardly been inside more than five minutes but she already wanted leave the confining metal walls of the Ark.

“I have come here to inform you that tomorrow at dawn the Commander will arrive. She will be here to discuss the Skaikru becoming the thirteenth clan”.

Everyone in the room could hear the change in Clarke’s voice. She’d always spoken with authority, and sincerity, but this was different. Her voice held a gravitas, a weight that said that not only had she seen things, done things, but that she was someone that you needed to listen to.

Unfortunately, it was at that moment that the Skaikru’s current leader, one lacking in any of those qualities, decided to interrupt with her shrill shriek.

“Clarke Abigail Griffin! What the Hell is wrong with you? You’ve been gone for two years, doing God knows what, helping the grounders decimate you own people and now what? You show up here demanding a meeting and dictate that we meet with the Commander, that left us to die, so that we can join the Coalition. Thousands of grounders who have left us to rot, to starve, and haven’t lifted a finger to offer aid. What the Hell happened to you, who are you and where’s my baby girl?” Abby yelled furiously at her.

Ignoring her unhinged mother, obviously too concerned with personal issues and stupid assumptions to address what was best for the people, she instead directed her next response to the room at large. At her announcement at the prospect of joining the coalition, both Raven and Kane seemed cautious but hopeful. They, better than the others, understood how screwed the Arkers were. The reaction of most of the others, Pike and Bellamy included, ranged from wary to angry.

“Ryder, Rivo and I will spend the afternoon hunting for you. Most of the council looks well-fed” here she pauses to eye Raven and turn a glare at her mother and the rest “but clearly your hunters can’t supply enough food for everyone. We’re setting up a camp outside the fence where we’ll spend the night. Any further discussions can happen in the morning.”

Without waiting for a response, Clarke turned and left the room, her guards following her out. As she left, voices rang out in the air, shouting questions and outrage at her back. She ignored them and, finally passing through the central doors for the Ark, made her way across the camp. As people stared at her, some with curiosity at seeing a grounder, others slowly connecting the resemblance with their memory of a much softer girl, she kept her face blank. Eventually, onlookers began pointing as the last few dots were connected in their minds, the Skaikru outside finally realizing that Clarke Griffin was the mysterious Wanheda.


……………………………………………………………………….

Clarke, Ryder and Rivo approached the gates of Camp Jaha with three deer, two boar and a rabbit to show for their efforts. When no one moved to open the gates, Clarke had enough of waiting and yelled “Open the fucking gates, do you want to eat or not?!”

“Hello to you too princess” Raven said as she opened the gates. Clarke just glared at her when she used her old nickname and placed the deer and rabbit she was carrying on the ground. She looked around and sighed because everyone was staring.

“Clarke, your mom is waiting to see you in medical. She’s insisting that you need check up because, and I quote, who the hell knows what those savages have done to her in two years, or worse, what she’s done to herself“ Raven informed quietly.

Clarke just raised her eyebrow at Raven and said “She probably sees a grounder instead of her daughter. Are you sure she’s not looking for a chance to slip a scalpel between my ribs?” Clarke said, voice and face lacking the emotion that the question should’ve caused. Raven realized in that moment that as much as Clarke needed this, she did too. As she moved closer, she slowly put her arms around Clarke, pulling her into a hug. It started out with a very stiff Clarke, but slowly Raven felt her relax into the embrace.

Pausing for a few moments to enjoy having her friend close to her again, she whispered “I think she was just shocked to finally see you, especially since since you basically announced that you’re some grounder legend named Wanheda. She’ll come around, and if she doesn’t, well, I’m sure you can handle her.”

Maintaining the embrace for as long as she could, Raven quickly changed the subject “I’m so glad to see you. I get that you needed to get away, to not be around us, especially since most of us are judgmental assholes, but I get it. I know you did what you had to do, you did whatever it took to keep us safe, and you saved me, so thank you. Thank you for that, and for Finn, just please, whatever bullshit happens in the future, no taking off again without letting me know. Some of us actually give a shit about what happens to you Griff” Raven murmured the last part as she pulled back from the hug.

Clarke just gave Raven a small nod and a small genuine smile conveying that she was happy to have Raven’s support.

“Will you please come with me Rae?” Clarke asked, her ‘I dont give a fuck’ face cracking slightly. Raven just nodded. Clarke turned back to Ryder “ Go and set up camp outside the fence. I will be back shortly. And before you say it, yes, I know you’re supposed to guard me. I still have my weapons hidden on me .” Clarke commanded. She heard guards grumble a ‘Sha Wanheda’ as the walked back out the gates to set up camp.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Clarke was standing inside the medical wing of the Ark waiting for her mother to finally make an appearance. For someone who basically demanded that Clarke have an exam, she certainly was taking her time. Raven had left to go and find Abby and drag her back to medical before Clarke simply left with the exam.

While Clarke waited, she decided that she should probably wash off her warpaint. Her official meeting was over, and her face was dirty from hunting, so it was no longer needed. She found a piece of cloth and wet it under the sink and then wiped the claw design off her face. As the paint came away from her skin, it revealed actual scars in the shape of claw marks that ran down her face. Raven and Abby entered just as she finished and were shocked to see the scars on her once pristine face.

“What the fuck happened Griff?” To say Raven was shocked was an understatement. She thought the warpaint was ceremonial, not hiding an old injury.

“Panther” Is all Clarke said a she shrugged her shoulders.

As Raven went outside the door to medical to wait and give them privacy, Abby just stood there staring at her daughter. She didn't even know where to start. She knew her daughter had changed. She knew it had been two years, and that Clarke had been forced to make horrible decisions, but this was her baby. Abby knew that she could protect Clarke, keep the bad people away, and ensure that her daughter could live the life she once dreamed of. She could meet boys, and be an artists. Sure, life on the ground was tough, but Abby would make sure that Clarke had nothing but the best of everything.

On the other hand, the last two years for Abby were spent in a constant state of turmoil. She knew that Clarke had to do horrible things to survive. The fact that none of their longer range hunting parties, save Lincoln and Octavia, came back alive. She wasn’t deaf to the whispers that Clarke must be helping the grounders, must be selling herself bit by bit for her continued survival, but this, this was too much.

As Abby let her eyes wander her daughter, this stranger before her, she cataloged it all. Clarke had removed her cloak and outer armor, standing there in nothing but a translucent undershirt.  Her hair, shorn off above the shoulders and shaved on one side The scar across her face, striking and distinct rather than detracting from her beauty. Moving down, she saw the tattoo trailing down from head, across her shoulder, and encircling her arm down to her wrist. Even her physique, previously slim and curvy but on it’s way to being fit, had filled out in a way that Abby would never have imagined. Instead of standing in front of her daugher, just leaving her teen years, she was looking at a warrior woman, with muscles as impressive as she’d ever seen on a female. Hell, she had more muscle than most of the men in Camp Jaha.

The physical changes, the swords, riding a horse, having guards, and the most damning change of all, being Wanheda. Clarke just looked her in the eye, watching Abby’s expression change as the woman took in the changes. She caught a look in her eye, not sadness or anger, something almost alien, something that didn’t belong. Realizing that she’d have to be the first one to break the silence between them, she mockingly asked “So, is it Chancellor, Doctor Griffin, or Mom? Which one do I get to hear yell at me first?” Raven, on the other side of the door but hearing quite clearly, snorted while trying to hold in her laugh but failed miserably.

“Enough of the tough guy act Clarke. Let me see what else the savages have done to you. You don't need to be afraid anymore you're safe here”. Abby said as if she were talking to a child with a scraped knee.

“Abby…’ Raven began. But was cut off when Clarke held up her and hand and shook her head. Turning to her mother, the cold look back on her face, she responded “Do I look six years old to you? In what world do you imagine that after surviving for two years without help or protection, that I’d need to come running here, to you of all people?” Still glaring at her mother, she grabbed her armor, slipping it over her head, and left the infirmary, never looking back.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Later that night Clarke woke to someone entering her tent. She sat up quickly, taking hold of the knife that she kept in the bed with her for just such occasions, and lunged forward at the intruder, stopping with the knife held at the intruders throat as she finally registered their identity.

“ Heya houmon ” The intruder chuckled and kissed Clarke on the lips. Clarke cupped her wife's cheek with her free hand and kissed back her back.

“ Heya Leksa , I missed you” Clarke said with her forehead resting against the Commander’s.

Chapter Text

Clarke woke up to Lexa tracing the tattoo on the side of her scalp. Clarke let out a content sigh, snuggling back into the furs and her wife as Lexa repeated the action, softly and slowly, for another five minutes.

“Monin Hodness” Clarke mumbled into Lexa’s chest.

“Monin Niron” Lexa whispered into Clarkes hair.

They soon got up and dressed, each putting on the multiple layers of their more intricate armor. When in Polis on more casual days, they could still wear the armor style that Lexa used to; simple, leather and cloth armor that moved well in their day to day lives. That had evolved over time, as the need for more protection, as well as more visually impressive armor had come up. Each having seen the other fight in situations where more armor would’ve made the difference between a serious wound and a light one, both insisted that each other take their safety more seriously.

With that in mind, both had agreed to new armor, if the other agreed to the same. While both bemoaned the need for such things for themselves, neither would pass up the opportunity for additional safety for the woman they love. After agreeing, they sought out the best armor smith in the Coalition, whose shop was naturally in Polis, the capital. While the armor smith, Promy, had insisted that it would be his honor to provide both sets of armor for free, neither Lexa nor Clarke would hear of it. Having taken their measurements, many more in fact than would be needed for a suit of clothes, they had discussed styles. While neither particularly cared what style of armor they wore in terms of looks, there were benefits and drawbacks for each.

In the end, they’d both agreed to an armor type that allowed the most flexibility and range of motion, while still allowing much more protection from stabbing, slashing, and bludgeoning than any of Lexa’s old armor. If Lexa and Clarke happened to find the other absolutely breathtaking it the armor, well, no one was complaining. The styles were similar, mostly leather with some shaped metal pieces in strategic places, such as the shoulders, the forearms, the thighs, and the shins.

There were also straight metal pieces, hinged, in strategic spots on both the back and the front to prevent a sword’s edge from slicing deeply from a perpendicular swipe. The majority of the armor, however, was shaped leather, and shaped it was. The leather molded to each of their physiques like a second skin. As with all leather armor, there was a lining inside to prevent the wearer from being rubbed raw. As a testament to the armorsmith’s skill, this lining was so thin as not to be noticed. He’d used a special material, one which they had only small supplies of, that he’d found resisted cuts and harsh blows.

On both their armor, room above the chest had been left to allow their bodies room to breath. If that room just so happened to draw the one another’s eye to their more attractive assets, well, that was a bonus. Likewise, in the stomach area, there was an additional cut-out section on both sets of armor, allowing much more flexibility for bends, flips, and leaps. The impressive abs sported by both weren’t wasted behind leather, and the smith pointed out that it would truly be a crime against nature to do so.

There were additional spots on the upper arms and various narrow spots on the sides of the armor, allowing both ventilation and movement, but these were narrow to reduce the chance of a sword tip finding it’s way into the small gap.

Initially, Lexa had been concerned that by replacing her lighter armor, she would have to forego her usual pauldron. While this was the case, it was solved by the smith working both the leather and metal of both armors to add ornate carvings and patterns within the leather and metal. The largest of which, in the top center of each shoulder plate, was her trademark gear, etched in the metal and inlaid with gold. The result was that nothing was truly lost by shedding the honestly lopsided pauldron, and the new armor looked all the better for it.

That was where the similarities stopped between the two armors however. While both armors were made of polished silver metal and black leather, Lexa, having to again forego her traditional sash as completely unrealistic in battle, had instead elected to mimic the sash with a bright red stripe on the left side of her armor. This was done with leather dyes and in such an artistic way, one would think that the cloth of the sash was glued to her side.

Clarke’s armor, on the other hand, had no such large display of color. Instead, her armor had accents at various edges of the leather armor, all in a deep blue. As the smith had explained, in honor of both her origins and her eyes, he’d made it the deep blue of a clear day, as seen from a mountaintop.

While Clarke wasn’t the Commander and could not wear the cog wheel design on her shoulder armor, Wanheda, whether a man or a woman at the time, did have their own symbol. Since she’d studied art on the Ark, she recognized it as a Celtic design. It was a rather simple, three sided symbol with a circle bisecting each oblong shape in the triangular formation. Like Lexa, this was embossed on both shoulders, though inlaid with an onyx-like metal, black as space.

Once they’d both helped each other don the armor, they sat to enjoy a quick but tasty breakfast of fruit, nuts, and dried meat that Lexa had brought with her. While eating, Clarke recounted the events of the day before, including her interactions with the unstable lunatic her mother was becoming. She also informed Lexa that, thanks to tempers on both sides, not many details had been shared or ironed-out in regards to the Skaikru joining the Kongeda.

Lexa reassured her, as she had many times leading up to this trip, that they’d work it out together, like always. In response Clarke gave her an extremely inappropriate kiss. They each had to remind themselves that they didn’t have the morning to do with as they pleased, for if they did, the armor would be back off in a heartbeat, and rather inappropriate sounds would be echoing throughout the surrounding area for the remainder of the day. This was especially true since their outfit redesign, the sheer volume of form-hugging leather and taut muscles on display often enough to send them to the privacy of their room in Polis tower.

Peeling themselves away from one another, Clarke sat Lexa down in one of the chairs and gently but efficiently braided Lexa’s hair into the characteristic tiny, intricate pattern that was the commander’s trademark. Once finished, she lovingly applied Lexa’s kohl warpaint as she’d done many times before. Now ready for the day, Lexa returned the favor, braiding Clarke’s hair tightly so it would remain out of the way and close to her head during training. Her fingers then trailed across to the tattoos on the other side of her wife’s head which she quickly kissed, before applying the war paint of Wanheda over the panther scars. Both of them decided to forego the adornment on their foreheads for the time being.

“Beautiful” Lexa said as she finished. Clarke just blushed in response, mumbling “Not so bad yourself Heda”.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The residents of Camp Jaha awoke to the sound of steel clashing, followed by shouts in the grounder language. As some of them slowly made their way to the gates, they were greeted by a sight that none of them had seen before. They stood in shock, many with their jaws hanging open, trying to reconcile the tableau on display. Across the distance, in the clearing about fifty feet from the fence, Clarke Griffin, adorned in the most intricate and stylish grounder armor they’d ever seen, was fighting the Commander.

Obviously having arrived overnight, the Commander was likewise dressed in her own version of the same armor, this set with it’s bright red accents. and the two were surrounded twenty warriors, the sources of the cheers and shouts. It seemed as if the warriors were cheering for both Heda and Wanheda, encouraging both equally.

The crowd inside the gates continued to build, until finally, after almost twenty minutes, it seemed as if all of Camp Jaha was out at the gates watching the Commanders trade blows. It seemed as if everyone, Arker and grounder alike, was transfixed on the training match. Clarke and Lexa themselves kept focus, skin glistening in the early morning sun, eyeing each other for weakness and continuing to probe one another’s defenses. As the blows reached a peak, Wanheda caught the commander’s punch and flipped her over her shoulder, holding a dagger to Heda’s throat.

As the match seemed to have been won, several of the grounders could be seen, happy but grumbling, exchanging some form of currency, while simultaneously cheering for Clarke, starting the chant of ‘Wanheda, Wanheda. Wanheda’.

Grinning down at her wife, Clarke taunted “Are you alright Leksa?” as she offered her a hand.

Gazing up the sweaty body of her wife, lingering on her quivering stomach muscles before meeting her eyes, Lexa responded “I am well hodness, you just took me by surprise. You have come a long way Klark.” Lexa said, emphasizing the sharp K sound in the way she knew drove Clarke wild, returning the smirk for one of her own.

Clarke couldn’t help herself any longer she leaned over a pulled her wife into a passionate kiss. Holding Lexa by the hips and pulling her closer as Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke’s neck, holding their faces together as they each tilted their heads, deepening the kiss.

The warriors, having seen this behavior many times before, cheered even louder. The Arkers, having no clue, simply stared in shock as Clarke took the Commander by the hand, leading her unerringly back to their tent.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

As they neared the entrance to the tent, Clarke turned to the gona nearby, ordering “Ensure that no one enters this tent. Also, keep gona posted to keep anyone from approaching at all. The Commander and I will be… consulting each other”

Having finished with her orders, Clarke brought Lexa into the tent and began the laborious task of removing the armor they’d recently donned. As she started on the fastenings of the shoulders, she quickly leaned back in, recapturing Lexa in a fiery kiss.

As Lexa reciprocated, she likewise began unfastening Clarke’s armor. Her hands urgently seeking the spots she needed, she nonetheless sidetracked herself, running her fingers up and down her wife’s sweaty abs, delighting in the firm texture and slick coating of sweat that they’d worked up together. She was greatly looking forward to working up even more of one in the next few moments.

After finally removing the armor, making sure to kiss, nibble, and suck every inch of skin as it was revealed, the couple moved to the fur covered bed in the corner. Finding herself moved backwards, Clarke’s knees hit the edge of the bed and she promptly sat, staring up the exposed, sweaty, very naked body of the most gorgeous woman she’d ever seen.

Taking in her tanned skin, her dusky nipples, taught with anticipation, all the way up to her beautiful green eyes, staring hungerly back at her. Seizing Lexa by the hips, she brought her down into her lap, pulling Lexa’s already wet pussy into contact with her hard stomach muscles.

Clarke bit back a moan at the feeling of her wife’s slickness covering her skin. Leaning up to kiss her again, this time even more deeply, she began rhythmically squeezing her breasts, working Lexa up into a frenzy. As Lexa began to grind into Clarke’s stomach, she also moaned into the kiss, taking a moment to begin sucking on her tongue.

Frustrated at the lack of contact to her own very eager core, Clarke repositioned them again, lowering herself back onto the furs and intertwining their legs, pressing her strong thigh in between Lexa’s leg, and wrapping her own around Lexa’s. As they both began to grind into each other’s thighs, the sounds within the tent grew to a feverish pitch.

Finding just the right angle for both of them, clits pressing against hip bones, hard nipples contacting each other, mouths locked in a furious battle for dominance, Clarke realized that, while cumming like this would be fulfilling, she wanted something different.

Flipping them over, putting Lexa on her back, she spread her wife’s legs open, gazing down her sweat-soaked body, taking in the quivering muscles and the excitement dripping from her core. Looking back into Lexa’s eyes, she leaned forward, taking her hard right nipple into her mouth while simultaneously entering her wife with two fingers.

Moaning around the nipple at the feeling of warm wet heat wrapped around her digits, she quickly got to work setting a quick but deep pace, having missed her wife on the several days the journey took to reach Camp Jaha.

As she continued stroking Lexa from the inside, feeling for her wife’s spot on the front wall, she switched to the other nipple as Lexa threw her head back, no longer even trying to contain her moans of delight, gripping Clarke by the shoulders as her passion grew.

Driving deeper with each thrust, curling her fingers to rub just so on each withdrawal, she knew Lexa was getting close. As the fluttering muscles began trying to grip her fingers on each thrust, she added a third. As she did so, Lexa wrapped her legs around Clarke, trying to anchor herself for the eruption she knew was only a few moments off.

Pulling her mouth away from Lexa’s nipple, Clarke again met her gaze. Knowing what Lexa needed, that final push to get her over the edge, her thumb moved up to begin circling her clit as she whispered “That’s right Lexa. That’s a good girl. Cum for me my good girl”

Back arching off the bed, face locked in a silent scream, Lexa did just that. Clarke continued to pump her fingers in and out, slowing slightly to allow Lexa to ride out her orgasm as Clarke’s fingers and palm became covered in Lexa’s cum.

As Lexa slowly came down, Clarke’s hand eventually came to a stop. With her gaze still locked with Lexa, she brought her hand up to her mouth and licked it clean. Seeing this, Lexa reached down and brought it to her own mouth, finishing the job and moaning at her own taste.

After allowing her wife a few more moments to recover, Clarke knew it was time to finish what they’d started. Moving up slowly, she inched her way up Lexa’s body, knees on the outside, slowly but surely scaling her wife, kissing from her chest to her neck, nibbling ears, dragging her dripping pussy up Lexa’s body and leaving a trail of her arousal on her stomach, then breasts.

Lexa scooted lower, positioning herself between Clarke’s legs, pulling them closer around her head, surrounding herself with Clarke. Inhaling deeply, she filled her senses with the delicious smell of Clarke’s musk before reaching out with her tongue and licking up the insides of her thighs, collecting the excitement that’d dripped out.

Licking up first one lip, then the other, making sure to collect every delicious drop from her wife and letting it sit on the back of her tongue, savoring the best taste she’s ever had.

Finally looking up, she met Clarke’s gaze, seeing the hunger, the desperation, and the overwhelming love in her eyes, Lexa knew that the time for teasing was over. As she settled in closer, she ran the flat of her tongue up Clarke’s slit, eliciting a moan, low and throaty, from above her.

Pushing forward even more, she pressed the tip of her tongue passed Clarke’s lips, pushing inside as her nose rubbed up against Clarke’s clit. As she licked her way inside, swirling her tongue and savoring the taste directly from the source, she reached up with her hands and squeezed Clarke’s full breasts.

Slowly pushing in and out, she set a slow but steady pace with her tongue, spearing into Clarke, swirling inside, pressing the tip to her spot just inside. As Clarke began rocking her hips, driving her dripping pussy into Lexa’s face, they both knew Clarke was already close.

Squeezing her nipples, twisting them harder as her tongue worked faster and faster, Clarke let out a whine as Lexa leaned back, only to push foward again and take Clarke’s clit into her mouth. Feeling the hard bundle of nerves between her lips, she began sucking, gently at first and then stronger.

As her mouth worked Clarke’s clit, she moved one hand back down and slowly pushed two fingers inside her wife. Clarke, moaning deeply again, rocking her hips faster, tried to meet each thrust of fingers as her eyes began to roll back in her head.

As Lexa added another finger, curling them inside, she sucked harder still on Clarke’s bundle, Lexa felt her fingers being pulled deeper, the muscles inside Clarke fluttering around them, and Clarke’s clit beginning to gently pulse in her mouth. Looking up again into Clarke’s eyes, that seemed to be what Clarke was waiting for. Throwing her head back, taking a deep inhale of air, she screamed loudly as Lexa immediately felt a rush of wetness on her chin, continuing as she worked Clarke’s quivering pussy, pushing deeper still as Clarke’s orgasm showed no signs of stopping.

Moving her mouth back to Clarke’s entrance and removing her fingers, she began lapping up the wetness Clarke was giving her, the fingers now freed of their hot prison began working her clit back and forth furiously.

As Clarke struggled to remain upright, she felt another wave of pleasure hit her. The corresponding rush of tangy sweet cum filling Lexa’s mouth, going down her throat, quenching the thirst she knew only Clarke could satisfy. As Clarke’s orgasm finally started to come to an end, she gently maneuvered her onto her back, laying her gently on the furs as she gave her throbbing clit one more gentle kiss before crawling upwards.

As Clarke worked to recover, she opened her arms and held Lexa closely, maneuvering Lexa’s head onto her chest, using her breasts as pillows. Kissing the top of her head, humming in contentment, she whispered “Ai hod yu in Leksa kom Trikru”.

After a brief nap of about a quarter candlemark, Clarke and Lexa again readied themselves, retouching braids and warpaint, redonning armor, and grabbing a quick bite of the boar that the guards had brought down that morning. Sitting around the fire, Clarke had a chance to observe the warriors. On guard obviously, being so close to an unknown element, but they also seemed pleased at the sight of Lexa, less stiff and formal than usual despite her heavy armor and warpaint.

Turning to the side, Clarke addressed Ryder, noticing the slight curve of his lips as he observed Lexa. “ The men seem happy ?”

Looking back from Lexa, refocusing on her, he responded “ Yes. The Commander is happy. It eases the gonas to see that even as she commands us, sacrifices for us, she can achieve happiness. For the gonas yet to find a mate, it reassures them that the life of a gonas, even a general or village or clan leader, doesn’t have to be a lonely one ”.

Clarke looked back at Lexa, seeing the ease of her movements and the happiness in her eyes and silently nodded. She’d do whatever it took to keep that look of happiness on her wife’s face. As Lexa glanced back, feeling eyes on her, Clarke blushed at having been caught, though why she blushed was anyone’s guess. Giving her wife a small smile, the two looked at one another like lovestruck goufa.

As lunch finished and several gonas took the remaining food for those guards still on duty, Clarke dragged Ryder towards the training pit. Ryder was no pushover, and he knew he still had things to teach Clarke, but he could do without the chuckling from other warriors when Wanheda managed to slip passed his defenses.

As he worked with Clarke, using his height, experience, and even his slight advantage in strength against her, she kept up with him startlingly well. Since she usually trained with Heda and the nightbloods, he knew her training would far exceed that of an average warrior, even a senior guard for Heda. It was still amazing to see how far she’d come in such a short time. She seemed to learn by watching, by doing, and by instruction as well. Refocusing his attention, he used a move he’d learned from Sankru and put her on her ass. Experience still counted for something after all.

After he helped her to her feet, he showed her the move, instructed her on how to execute it and the dangers if done wrong, as well as it’s counter-move. Beginning to spar again, she picked up the move in only two tries. They continued like this for some time, her two short swords twirling in a whirlwind. When they locked blades again and he began to exert his strength to drive her back, he was met with a welcome surprise. It seemed that either she was growing stronger, or the spirit of Wanheda was making her so, as he wasn’t able to move her blades an inch. In a move too fast to register, he was on his back, a blade to his neck, staring up at Wanheda in pride. As he took her hand to get to his feet, he was about to congratulate her on her win, when suddenly the gates to Camp Jaha opened and out stormed one very grumpy Octavia Blake.

”Lookie here, Princess can fight now. How great is that! Now she doesn’t have to rely on missiles, and levers, and rocket fuel, she can kill them with her bare hands, just like the boy she loved.”  Octavia shouted angrily, apparently preparing to make a move with the sword she was holding.

Clarke just nodded to Lexa and Ryder, to let them know that she could handle this. As Octavia got closer Clarke just stood still with her swords hanging by her side. When Octavia was a few feet away she raised her swords but dodged the first strike. When Octavia came again with so much anger she left an opening for Clarke to duck under her strike and punch her in the face, breaking her nose. If anything, this just enraged Octavia further.

As Clarke circled her, not moving to follow-up the blow, she finally responded “Attacking out of anger Octavia? You think acting like a petulant child is going to impress anyone? We were friends, and I made the choices that I had to, and I’m tired of you thinking that you deserve answers that you already have. If you want to fight, we’ll fight, because I’m done with your self-centered bullshit. But this had better settle it once and for all.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Clarke knew it was wishful thinking. Octavia was too hung up on her own self righteousness for one fight to resolve things. Hopefully though, this would teach her something about fighting with her emotions instead of her head, and maybe help her on the road to seeing things like an adult, not a childish bitch who wanted things her own way. If she learned a little respect, hey, that was just a bonus.

Clarke let Octavia swing again and again, clumsily, over-extending, letting her emotions make her sloppy. As she knocked aside another swing that Octavia was putting too much force behind, she jabbed Octavia in the side. That’s when Octavia’s temper did her in.

Screaming in frustration, she turned back to Clarke. Just as she was about to unleash another barrage, Clarke began speaking again. “This isn’t how you fight like a warrior O. Is this really your best? Letting your anger get the best of you, make you sloppy… Indra would be so disappointed in you.”

That, it seemed, was the nail in the coffin for Octavia. Screaming in rage as Lincoln looked on in resignation, Octavia charged. When Clarke easily disarmed her and flung her on her back, she was quick to scramble to her feet. Her sword now out of reach, she raised her firsts to give that pampered bitch a taste of her anger.

Dropping her swords, Clarke got into a fighting stance, and as she predicted, Octavia charged at her like a bull seeing red. As Octavia swung, instead of dodging, Clarke stepped closer, inside her guard, and hit Octavia once, square in the jaw.

The gathered warriors heard it, Lincoln heard it, hell, the people gathered to see the fight behind the fence probably heard it. Octavia hit the ground, barely moving, moaning in pain. Lincoln slowly approached Octavia, a sad look on his face as he knelt down to tend to her.

Not fifteen seconds later, Clarke heard shouting from the other side of the fence, and the gates to the camp opened again. Hearing running footsteps behind her, the crowd parted to reveal Bellamy running at her.

Having witnessed some of the fight, he knew that Clarke must’ve used some dirty grounder trick to win, he shouted “How could you do that to my sister Clarke?!” His intentions shone clearly in his eyes as, rather than moving to help his sister like Lincoln had, Bellamy balled his fists and kept moving straight at Clarke. Again, she signaled to the gonas and Lexa that she’d handle this, or he’d have been subdued or killed rather than allowed to advance.

As he rushed her, she took the arm he overextended in both of her hands, one on his fist and the other near his elbow. She twisted it behind his back, making sure to apply pressure to the wrist at the same time. As the click echoed around the gathered warriors, Bellamy howled in pain at his now broken wrist. Looking at him with the disgust she’d been masking, knowing what he’d become during her absence, she reached around his neck, arms pressing against the arteries.

Using his one good hand, he tried to free himself, but her grip was too strong, both arms braced using the other as leverage. The fight soon left him, and his unconscious body hit the dirt not far from his sister. Clarke looked up, seeing the pride in Lexa and Ryder’s eyes. Looking next to the gonas and to the people gathered at the fence, she could see Raven in the front. Rather than the judgement, the condemnation that she expected to see on Raven’s face (she had just knocked out two people she used to call friend), she saw something else altogether. She saw hope.

“ Ai laik Wanheda! Does anyone else wish to challenge?” Clarke’s calm voice carried easily across the distance, again sounding nothing like Skaikru’s Chancellor.

.....................................................................................................................................................................................................

Skaikru stood there shaking in fear at what they’d just witnessed. For the adults of the Ark, they’d known her as the quiet but happy wiz kid from Medical. The teens of the 100 knew that she was a leader, and did what she had to do time and time again. But what they’d just witnessed showed them that even that Clarke Griffin had changed, become something more. She now had the skills to back up the determination they’d seen over and over.

It seemed that none of the Arkers wanted to take Clarke up on her offer, and as Raven watched, the crowd started to disperse. As the people near the fence thinned, what she saw made her blood run cold.

The gonas likewise went back to their duties, not wanting to anger Wanheda anymore than these branwada already had. As they moved away from the training area, Clarke looked to Lexa, silently conveying that she wanted a few moments alone with her wife. As the two turned to head towards their tent, the sound of a gunshot roared through the air.

In the silence that followed, the only sound that could be heard was that of a body hitting the earth.

Chapter Text

Raven watched as the crowd began to dissipate, still not quite believing her eyes. Sure, Clarke had always been tough, but the skills she displayed now seemed so far beyond what Octavia demonstrated, it was like night and day. Not only her fighting prowess, but the way she took command, not usurping Lexa, but an authority in her own right. Raven thought back to how they’d treated Clarke since she arrived. It seemed like Abby treated her like the child she’d been before being sent to the ground, and most others, like Pike and Bellamy, reacted to her as they would a teen, sometimes right but usually short-sighted and lacking any experience to back up their mouth.

This though, proved that Clarke was different than even Raven herself remembered her. Clarke was her friend, her best friend, and now it appeared that her best friend had not only become a warrior, but someone who would and could stand up for herself and her people, whoever those were these days. Other than Raven, she knew that only Kane and perhaps Lincoln would treat Clarke with the respect she deserved, having saved all of them more times than she can count. Even the rest of the 100 had been poisoned, either with lies from Bellamy and Pike, or by the simple warped perception that comes with time.

As she spotted him in the crowd, some twenty feet away, her thoughts turned to Jasper. Talk about wasting your fucking life. Sure, the kid had lost a girl he loved, Maya, but he hadn’t even tried to grieve and move on. Sinking into the haze of alcohol immediately after returning from the mountain, he’d rarely surfaced from it’s grip long enough to keep from killing himself. Why Pike had put him on the guard rotation was anyone’s guess. An alcoholic, angry at the world, with a loaded gun. Raven’s amazed he hasn’t offed himself yet.

As her train of thought caught up to reality, she realized that the one thing other than drinking that Jasper could be counted on doing was blaming his entire shitty existence on Clarke. In his mind, and in his rants, she was the source of everything bad that had ever befallen the Arkers and the 100. From killing Finn, to killing Atom, to Charlotte’s death, Wells’, his blame went on and on. In his eyes, Clarke’s crowning achievement of fuck-ups was the mountain. He didn’t blame Monty for the radiation, no, he decided that there must have been some way, any way to defeat Cage Wallace and save the Arkers without killing everyone else. Holding Maya as she died, her skin scorched, liquifying before his eyes as she wailed in agony, was apparently something he re-lived, over and over, even when blind drunk.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her when she saw him at the fence, his furious gaze leveled at Clarke. It shouldn’t have slipped her mind that of everyone who’d been deluded into thinking Clarke was a traitor, here was the one person that had the best reason to hate her. And, as the scene unfolded in front of her, the onlookers having all wandered away, the grounders going back to the chores, it shouldn’t have surprised her when she saw Jasper raise his rifle, aiming at Clarke’s back.

The truth was, it fucking shocked her. It shocked her so badly that all she could think about was that for all her fancy swordwork, for all her hand-to-hand skills, Clarke was just as vulnerable to a bullet as anyone else. She snapped out of her shock briefly as she considered that, at a distance of thirty feet from him, her leg already aching, she’d never make it to him in time to stop him. She thought about calling out, yelling for help, but that would come too late. As she watched Jasper steady his aim, dread took hold and she prayed to anyone listening for Clarke, their best chance at a future, to be spared.

Between one heartbeat and the next, a shot rang out across the camp, freezing Arkers and grounders alike. The grounders were the first to start moving, looking everywhere to spot where the shot had come from. No sooner had the sprung into action than the sound of a body hitting the ground solved the puzzle.

Coming back to her senses, Raven looked at her arm curiously. At the end of it was the Glock pistol she carried at all times, and as she followed the path of her vision, there lay Jasper, the dirt under him already absorbing the blood, blood gushing from the massive hole in the side of his head where Raven’s bullet had struck true.

That was the moment that reality came rushing back, as both grounders and Arkers alike rushed to see what had happened. The gates to the camp, still open from Bellamy’s temper tantrum, allowed Clarke, Lexa, and a handful of gonas including Ryder to enter. Likewise, the guards, such as they were, moved in the direction of both Raven and the body, while also trying to keep onlookers back from the scene.

As Abby, Kane, and Pike pushed through the crowd, Abby took one look at the gun in Raven’s hand and the body on the ground before she bellowed “Raven Reyes you are under arrest for the murder of Jasper Jordan. Drop your weapon”. Pike looked smug as the guards snapped into action, repeating the order to drop the weapon, as Kane looked at Abby like she’d lost her fucking mind.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Clarke and Lexa, after moving through the gate, approached the body of Jasper. They could see the rifle next to him, hell his hand was still clutching it, finger near the trigger. It didn’t take Raven’s brains to figure out what had happened. Raven was certainly capable of killing, but she’d never do it for no reason, or for a bullshit reason. No, what happened here was nothing short of Raven saving Clarke’s life, possibly Lexa’s too. They’d done their best to avoid him since coming to the camp, but it seemed that luck had run out.

It was unfortunate, tragic even, but Clarke had learned to be pragmatic enough to view it as Jasper’s idea, Jasper’s actions, getting Jasper killed. A feeling of intense gratitude and pride welled-up in Clarke as she gazed at Raven. After years of separation and trash talk, Raven still stood by her, was still her best friend. Thinking logically, of all the outcomes that were available, this one seemed least likely to cause negative repercussions.

No sooner was the thought finished in Clarke’s mind than the idiotic words left her mother’s mouth, ordering Raven’s arrest. She didn’t think it was possible, but her opinion of Abby reached new lows.

Moving quickly to put her body between Raven’s and the Ark guards’ guns now that Raven had dropped hers, she heard Lexa order the gonas to surround and protect Raven “Warriors, guard the woman that defends Wanheda.”

As the warriors hurried to follow the order and surround Raven, Clarke turned to Lexa and whispered “We’ll need to get her to safety. I doubt the Chancellor will see reason.” Signaling to two of her warriors, Lexa instructed them to prepare horses for immediate travel.

Knowing Lexa had things well in hand for a hasty departure, Clarke turned to Abby, who hadn’t stopped babbling about punishment and Raven finally going too far.

“Even an idiot can see that Raven was trying to prevent cold-blooded murder. What’s wrong with you?! Differences aside, Raven’s done nothing but try to help our people. She saved my life and you want to lock her up?!” While Clarke knew intellectually that her mother had fallen a long way from the ideal Clarke once had of her, starting with her selfish choices that got Jake floated, she’d never imagined her mother could become this unglued, despite everything that had been going on in Camp Jaha for the past two years.

Abby, seeing her daughter defy her yet again, seeing nothing but the arrogant child that wants to second guess everything, wants to think she knows better than the adults, stood shaking in rage. Kane was trying to talk down the guards, while Pike stood by with a smile on his face. Taking Raven by the hand and slowly guiding her towards the gates, her mother was too preoccupied with her internal diatribe to see what was happening.

“We’re going to get you out of here Raven. No one deserves the shit you’ve had to put up with. Come with us, you’ll be safe, I swear” Clarke said, keeping them moving in the direction of the gate. Looking at her face, her eyes, and knowing Clarke as she did, Raven didn’t doubt that this was it, this was her chance to get out from under the thumb of these fucking lunatics. She was leaving empty-handed, but other than her tools, what did she really have of her own? She nodded, feeling as if a weight had been lifted, knowing that no matter what happened, no matter what she faced outside the fence, it had to be better than this.

As Kane looked up and caught Clarke’s eye, he nodded slightly, signaling his approval. She’d never liked him on the Ark, but on the ground, he had become someone that Clarke could call friend, and beyond that, someone she could respect as a fellow leader.

As they finally made it to the gate, that seemed to snap everyone out of their arguments and, as the gonas blocked the open gate with their bodies, Clarke and Raven make their break for the grounder camp.

Meeting them halfway with horses, Lexa handed off the reins to Clarke for her black war horse. Clarke knew that the ride would be hard on Raven, but that couldn’t be helped. They needed the horses to make good time, otherwise Clarke was sure that either Abby or Pike would send guards after them.

The party, now mounted, consisted of Lexa, Clarke, Raven, Ryder, and six other gonas. The remaining fourteen warriors still at the gate, giving what time they could to allow the party a head start. Turning the horses, they began moving away, with Clarke holding the reins and Raven clutching onto Clarke’s middle, squeezing as much as she was able with her legs. As the group disappeared behind the trees along the path from Camp Jaha, Raven couldn’t help but wonder what the future would have in store for her.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

They had been riding for about twenty minutes and, realizing they weren’t being followed, everyone relaxed slightly. Speaking loudly enough to be overheard despite the galloping horses, Raven asked “Where are we going Clarke?”

Knowing that some explanations were in order, Clarke turned her head slightly “We’re going to make sure that we’ve got a good enough lead on anyone that would try to follow. Once we’re sure, we’re going to put you on the extra horse we brought and the warriors will take you to Polis, the capital.”

Seeing Raven about to speak, Clarke quickly continued “I’m sorry Rae, I know you want us to go with you, and believe me, we do, but we have a job to do back with the Arkers. I wasn’t kidding when I said that they need to join the coalition, and we can’t just leave before we’ve done what we came to do. Don’t worry, I’m sending Ryder, our most experienced guard and their captain, with you all the way. Besides, I’ll make sure that someone you know meets you there.” Clarke finished. Raven wasn’t sure if she liked the gleam in Clarke’s eye, but she let is pass, for now.

After settling in to riding, it’d now been more than four hours since leaving camp. Raven had her arms lightly wrapped around Clarke’s waist as they were galloping through the forest. She had been lost in her head for most of the journey replaying all that had happened in the last day and a half.  Suddenly she tightened her arms when they began to go up an incline, but pulled back abruptly and lost her balance, nearly falling off the horse. Riding next to Clarke, talking off and on during the trip, Lexa quickly reached over and help right Raven before she could topple off.

“Thanks Commander” Raven stuttered, rubbing her neck in embarrassment and darkening several shades in embarrassment.

“You are welcome Raven kom Skaikru” Lexa replied with a small smile.

Clarke, who had slowed the horse to a stop after cresting the small hill, was trying her hardest not to laugh at the look of shock on Raven's face.

“What happened Reyes?” Clarke asked, the amusement evident in her voice.

Raven mumbled something incoherently, too low even for Heda and Wanheda to catch, but Lexa had an idea as to what happened.

Repeating herself, Clarke turned a bit more to look at Raven, who avoided her gaze before huffing and meeting her eyes.

“You could have warned me that you have rock hard abs Clarke. I was so shocked I fell of the horse” Raven groaned, knowing she’d never hear the end of it.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about my abs Raven” Clarke said. She tried to keep a straight face but the chuckling probably ruined it.

“Jesus Griff, You’re a badass now. Cool hair, amazing armor, an awesome tattoo and you have FREAKIN ABS!” Raven exclaimed.

Chuckling, Clarke got them moving again, Lexa joining her to the side as they settled back into a steady gallop.

They continued this way for two more hours, before the sun started it’s final descent. Knowing it would be dark soon, the group found a clearing where a camp could be made. Unfortunately, in the haste to leave, the Commander’s usual tent couldn’t be taken down and packed in time. Neither Lexa nor Clarke gave it any thought, both used to traveling as warriors roughing it from time to time.

As the gonas prepared the camp, digging a fire pit, collecting wood, and distributing the pads and furs that would be used as bedding, another went to find a stream and bring back water.

Although all of them had been riding for some time, Clarke knew that, after sex this morning, sparring for several hours, and then riding on horseback for at least six hours, she needed a bath. Unfortunately, the woods were unlikely to provide her a tub. Finding the water that had been retrieved from the stream, Clarke decided to be decadent. Taking a bit of the water that was heating by the fire, she moved off towards the bedding that she’d set up next to Lexa’s and began removing her armor.

Warriors on the march bathed when they could, ate when they could, relieved themselves when they could. As such, Clarke had long ago learned to forego modesty. After shedding her leather and metal boots, she worked on her shoulder armor, then her wrists, torso, and finally her legs.

Clad now in just her undershorts and her chest binding, she retrieved a piece of cloth from her pack and a piece of soap. Wetting the cloth and applying the soap, she began the process of wiping down her arms, removing the built-up sweat and dirt from the day.

Lexa, having taken the chance to sit near Clarke, was sharpening her sword and watching her beautiful houmon, her sword quickly forgotten as her eyes traced Clarke’s curves. In her peripheral vision, she watched as Raven came to an abrupt halt, eyes as big as saucers, staring at Clarke as if she’d never seen her before.

Raven was preparing her bed as best she could. The warriors that Clarke and Lexa had brought were respectful of the fact that, while she was clearly limping quite badly after the extended amount of time on a horse, she wanted to do what she could for herself. Pride is a bitch, and she acknowledged that so was she, so in the end, she had asked for help.

Approaching one of them warriors who himself was just finishing with his bedding, she stood as straight as she was able and asked if he could help her. His response had been immediate, but what shocked her the most was that he hadn’t looked at her as if she was a burden, as if she was ‘less than’, he’d simply moved to help. He cleared her area of rocks, stooping low so that she didn’t have to, and then gathered pine needles from the surrounding area to help level the ground and provide some additional cushion. Once finished, she gave him her thanks, and he nodded at her, moving off to continue his preparations, simple as that.

Laying out her bedding on the now prepared ground, she glanced up and froze in her tracks. There, sitting not fifteen feet away, was Clarke. Her back was turned towards Raven, and she had shed her armor, obviously bathing with a cloth which she’d rinse in the pot beside her.

‘Holy shit holy shit tattoos muscles *that’s your friend!* holy shit. Okay, okay, she’s my friend, and friends are allowed to look at the tattoo of a friend, in a totally friendly and non-skeevy way of friends’ she rambled in her thoughts. Breaking her gaze, she saw Lexa smirking at her from the other side of Clarke, and briefly wondered what the front view would be like, before her internal mantra of ‘FRIEND’ kicked into high gear.

She could appreciate the fact that at least some of her reaction was shock. ‘I mean, it has been two years, but who the fuck goes from soft and curvy to THAT in two years?’ Gazing at Clarke’s back, Raven took in what details she could make out in the dying sunlight and campfire off to the side.

It appeared that Clarke’s entire back was covered in a tattoo, with points and lines and a bluish black background. As she squinted to make out more details, an amused voice reached her.

“It’s okay if you want to see Rae, come on over” Clarke offered, knowing that reconnecting with her friend was the first step to Raven healing and moving on from the ordeals she faced since she’d been gone.

As Raven approached, Clarke slid forward off of the log she’d been perched on, offering it to Raven and giving her a better view. As Raven sat and started examining the tattoo again, she noticed a few other differences in her friend.

‘Merciful God how did she get shoulders like that? Does she even have fat anymore? I thought the armor made her shoulders look great but fuck, biceps?! I’m too gay for this shit’.

Clarke turned her head and started to explain the tattoo, her voice soft, not like Raven had heard it since her return.

“The tattoo on my back is made up on constellations. Not the pictures that you fill in with your imagination, but the straight lines between stars. Each one of them..” Clarke pauses to clear her throat, her emotions getting to her “each one of them my dad taught me, helped me learn where they were from the GoSci observation lounge. Before I started going to Medical to help my mom, we’d sit for hours and he’d teach me the stars, about the Greek and Roman figures they were based on. Abby never came with us, it was our time, his and mine.”

Raven nodded as Clarke finished speaking, knowing that she’d just been given a gift, a brief look at the little girl that still missed her dad. Squeezing Clarke’s shoulder briefly, she went back to looking at the tattoo. She saw the constellations, and at the center was an amazingly detailed line drawing of the Ark. As she peered closer, she saw that there, on the GoSci section of it, right about where deck six section ten would be, was a window, the only one that had been included. In that window there appeared to be two tiny outlines, one taller, one shorter. She worked very hard not to cry before moving elsewhere with her inspection.

She could see that the vine tattoo continued down from the side of Clarke’s head, over that side of her neck, and down her arm, wrapping around it several times before stopping at her wrist. Seeing where Raven’s eyes were focused, Clarke held up her right arm, and on this forearm, starting at the wrist, a tattoo that appeared to be made up of gears and circuits, and at the center was the name Jake Griffin.

Since Clarke was shirtless and had extended her arms away from her body, Raven took note of what appeared to be thin black lines that stretched up and down Clarke’s sides and, looking closer, she could see that they must also be on the outside of her thighs, a few just visible beneath the sleep shorts she was wearing.

“Uh, Griff, what are those tattooed lines all over? The black ones on your sides?” Raven paused and, noticing the look being exchanged between Clarke and Lexa, continued “Don’t worry about it Clarke”.

After seeing Lexa nod, Clarke turned her head to her friend “No, it’s okay Rae. Those marks, they’re not exactly tattoos. I know they look like that, but how they got there isn’t important. Have you ever heard of kill marks?”

Raven thought back to every conversation she’d had with Lincoln, finally remembering “Yeah, Lincoln had a few marks, four or so, on his arm. He said those were his kill marks, and represented the lives he’s taken since becoming a warrior”. As she finished explaining, a certain horror and dread came over her, guessing how this connected with her question to Clarke.

“Well, that’s exactly what kill marks are. They’re a way of acknowledging that you took a life, and paying respect to those lives. It doesn’t matter if the person you killed was good or evil, or if they respected you. It doesn’t even matter if you took their life personally. Your actions or if you’re a leader, your orders can also cause death. These are mine”.

“Um Clarke, I mean I know you feel responsible for the deaths you’ve caused, which a lot of that is bullshit, but there seems to be like, a LOT of marks here”.

“There are 1,187” Clarke answered. They sat there for a moment, Raven trying to do the math before realizing that the number had to include the warriors burned at the dropship, all of the people in Mt Weather, probably the part of the 100 that had died before and during the mountain, and several hundred since then.

“There’s one more I’d like you to see Rae” Clarke said, breaking Raven out of her thoughts. She nodded, not sure if Clarke could see it, before whispering “Ok Clarke, show me”.

As Clarke stood up, giving Raven a great view of her well muscled and defined legs, the ‘friend’ chant reached a fevered pitch. As Clarke turned around, her clearly-defined and fucking amazing abs right in Raven’s face, Raven worked to keep from swallowing her tongue.

As Clarke watched on in amusement, she knelt down in front of Raven, bringing her upper body into focus, leaning forward so that Raven could see the ink visible just above her breast band. There, printed in beautifully stylized letters, written right near her heart, was the name LEKSA. The grounders not having a written language had meant that Clarke had to improvise.

As Raven looked back and forth between Clarke and Lexa, seeing the love in Lexa’s eyes as she stared at Clarke’s back, it clicked in Raven’s mind, and a wide grin broke out on her face.

“Oh my God you lucky bitch, you’re together with the Commander aren’t you?”

Laughing, Clarke looked adoringly at Lexa, before turning back to Raven “Rae, Lexa is my wife”.

Raven stared at Clarke dumbly, not sure if she’d heard right, before squealing and wrapping Clarke in a tight hug, rocking back and forth.

As the hug finished, Raven again turned bright red, realizing that she was hugging her almost naked friend whom she’d been drooling at for most of the night.

Seeing the reaction again from her friend, Clarke decided it was time for the ribbing to begin.

“Don’t worry, the friend that’s meeting you in Polis has amazing abs, and she wears much smaller armor than me!”

As Raven scowled, both Clarke and Lexa burst into laughter, with the rest of the camp watching on, happy to see their Heda and Wanheda at ease. Every warrior knew the saying ‘Happy Heda, happy gonakru’.

Chapter Text

As the night continued, the camp settled in. The warriors sent out to hunt returned with a good sized deer, and promptly set about skinning and butchering the animal. The designated cook had already filled a pot with water, herbs and spices in preparation, as well as preparing what vegetables were on hand. Another three warriors were setting up a small area for the horses.

Remembering the day she’d just endured on a horse, riding with grounders, brought her mind back to the first time she’d ever seen a grounder on horseback. It’d been the day Finn had got it into his head to try to make peace with the grounders, who at the time had wanted nothing more than the ninety plus surviving delinquents dead and burned.

She’d been in her tent making bullets before the sound of the party had lured her outside. Seeing Clarke playing quarters, she’d wandered over to watch. When Finn pulled Clarke aside, and Raven had overheard everything. Voicing her own objections, because of course Finn was being a monumental fucking idiot, she’d gone with them anyway. They’d approached the bridge, spotting Octavia pacing, then Lincoln had run across from the other side. Finally, the grounders that they were set to meet appeared on horseback.

Raven eyed the collection of mounted grounders that had ridden up to meet with Clarke. The one apparently in charge, an Asian with blondish hair, sat on the horse regally and, in Raven's opinion, far to fucking hot with her abs and leather than any asshole had a right to be, especially when she wanted Raven and all her friends dead. Eyeing her, Raven’s non-stop thought train kicked into high gear. ‘I mean, what the fuck is in the water on Earth? First Lincoln and now Cheekbones? Will I get abs? Maybe Finn fucking around is a blessing in disguise. Come on Clarke, negotiate a good treaty. Throw me in as a sex slave for Hottie McMounted-Abs there and call it a win.’

Raven snorted at her own thoughts, which turned to wondering what had happened to General Cheekbones, as Raven liked to think of her. After she and Clarke had escaped the mountain together, fighting for the upper hand as they made their way away from the mountain, Cheekbones, aka Anya, had taken a bullet thanks to a really fucking stupid guard at Camp Jaha. Interrupting her train of thoughts again, she smiled with satisfaction remembering the ass kicking he’d giving that moron months later.

She’d thanked her lucky stars that Clarke knew what she was doing around a wound, patching Anya up before sending her on her way to arrange the eventual meeting with Heda. Raven herself had a chance to talk to the fierce but wonderfully sarcastic general while Clarke made plans with the Commander. Outwardly prickley, Raven saw right through it. The two seemed to hit it off over their mutual brand of harsh honesty and cutting sass. The rest, as they say, was history. Good history. History she might get to revisit now that she wasn’t locked in that armpit of a camp going nowhere fast. She definitely wouldn’t mind revisiting Anya’s small smirks, her witty retorts, or those glorious grounder muscles. Chuckling again, she realised that she hadn’t gotten abs yet, so it definitely wasn’t the water.

Bringing herself back to reality, having been given a cloth and some soap earlier herself, set about cleaning up before dinner was ready. She was starving, but then again, she couldn’t think of a time in the last two years that she wasn’t. She wondered briefly if that was going to be a thing of the past, and if so, how many other things that pissed her off would go with it?

As she enjoyed her first decent meal in literally years ‘Holy shit grounder food is amazing!’, she looked down at her brace, thinking about the changes that were about to happen in her life. After the embarrassing moment with Clarke earlier, they’d talked about many things, all having to do with Raven. She’d explained to Clarke about the choice made two years ago, that stuck her with the brace she now abhorred.

Clarke, being a fairly good healer herself, had listened as Raven had related everything she could about her condition. Showing concern, encouraging Raven through the difficult parts, and asking questions in the right places, Raven felt like she’d been listened to for the first time in ever. Hell, even O didn’t listen that attentively, always just biding her time until it was her turn to bitch more. No, Clarke seemed like she wanted to know, and knowing Clarke, she was devising just what to do with the knowledge.

Clarke had asked Raven flat out “Do you want to get better?”

“Fuck yes I want to get better! But there’s nerve damage, and something about how the bone healed isn’t right. It’s not like we had a working CAT scanner. The X-Rays showed some things, like hairline cracks in the hip and thigh bone that didn’t heal right or some shit. It’s not like it hasn’t been two fucking years, so I have no idea what it’s waiting for.”

“Look Raven, I’m not going to bullshit you. Your injury is bad, and waiting two years to really treat it didn’t do you any favors. But, and this is a big but, there might be a Trikru medicine that can help. It’s rare, and sometimes it doesn’t work, but if Polis has it, and if it works, it can help with the bone fusion and the nerve damage. No, don’t look at me like I saved your life. There’s a catch. If the bone is cracked like you described, but not fully broken, even after all this time, we might have to break the bone and set it in order to trigger your body’s healing process. I’m not gonna lie, it’ll hurt, like the biggest bitch you ever saw, but you’d get better. Not a hundred percent, but enough to walk with less of a limp, enough to maybe run if you had to, and definitely enough to get through the day with less pain.”

Raven had sat there, thinking everything through, the pain she’d have to go through, not to mention the withdrawal from the painkillers she was on. Was it worth it? It was a no brainer.

“Let’s do it” she said, looking resolute and sure.

Clarke nodded, and told her that when she got to Polis, the head healer in the Heda’s tower  would be notified and the search for the medicine would be on. In the meantime, Raven’s job was to slowly wean herself off the painkillers, so that she was clean by the time they’d do this.

With that bombshell detonated on Raven’s head, it was time to drop the nuclear bomb of secrets, something so big that frankly, Raven was surprised she didn’t punch Clarke right in her fucking mouth.

Lexa had spies watching Camp Jaha. Oh, that wasn’t the worst part. The spies were watching, had been watching, for months, upon months, upon OVER A FUCKING YEAR of months!

At that revelation, Raven had held up her hand, wrenched herself up off the ground, and stomped off into the forest. She picked up a good-sized branch and started beating the shit out of the trunk of a tree, raging inside. Over a fucking year, watching them slowly dying. Watching her get shoved around, starved off on and, and spit on, literally. Watching the illness and hunger claim lives. Watching them bumbling from one clusterfuck to the next. Watching them teetering on the brink of annihilation. Over a year of pain, humiliation, and degradation. The things she’s done, that others did. Over a year.

After spending thirty minutes in the woods destroying that tree, then her fists, she walked back into camp, tear tracks down her face, knuckles bloody, and slumped down on the log she’d been sitting on. Wordlessly, Clarke approached her, gently took her hands, and began treating them. Not looking up for a long time, Raven thought furiously. She knew there had to be a reason, knew there was some explanation. Someone as decent and caring as Clarke wouldn’t, couldn’t have left her there to rot. Looking up, she had to know.

“Why? Why wait over a year to come to us when you could tell almost from the beginning that we were dying? Why wait and add more bodies, more marks to yourself? Why Clarke?”

Swallowing her emotions, Clarke looked up from Raven’s bloody and swollen hands, meeting her eyes with a steady gaze “You and everyone else in camp elected my mom, chose my mom, chose to follow her. No, this isn’t about pettiness. If you’re in a democracy and you elect a shitty leader, you vote them out. Every report I saw said the same thing. She was getting more and more crazy as time went on and no one stood up for what was right, except maybe Kane. So I had to wait, we had to wait. The people had to be ready for something better, and frankly, we also saw that most of the Arkers didn’t want to get better. They wanted to live inside that metal tomb, doing nothing to evolve or learn or adapt or cope. They wanted their air conditioning, they wanted their sterile meals, they wanted everything on a silver platter. Well that’s not how shit works down here.”

“The main reason that it’s taken this long for us to come to the Skaikru with the offer, the ultimatum to join the Coalition is that the people had to see that the old ways, the way things were in space, wouldn’t work here. They had to see that the past had to die, and they had to realize, within themselves, that survival is a choice, a choice that they had to make. We can’t force them to survive, to learn, but they have to if they want a place in the coalition. There are no free rides, and a year ago, six months ago, that’s what they’d expect.”

As Clarke finished treating and bandaging Raven’s hands, she paused to collect her thoughts. As Raven processed what she said already, Clarke continued.

“If we showed up at Camp Jaha a year ago with a hundred warriors, the people would demand food, shelter, clothing, like it was their right to step onto someone else’s land and expect something. The same thing would’ve happened six months ago. Right now, I’m not sure that the attitude has changed all that much, but winter is coming. The people won’t live through this winter with the way things are now. Whether they’re ready or not, it’s time to adapt or die.”

Clarke knew she was being harsh, but that’s what life was on the ground, struggle, sometimes clawing with bloody broken fingernails to drag yourself that one inch closer to life, she knew all about that.

“For those that expect a hot meal to be handed to them as if it’s their due, like Pike and I guess now Bellamy, well, it’s time to die. For those willing to work, to learn, to adapt, like you and O, and Kane and of course Lincoln, they’ll greet this chance with open arms and it’ll be nothing but a positive change, filled with hard work yes, but positive.”

Raven sighed, “I mean, yeah I’m not an idiot, I do get what you’re saying Clarke. If you’re not willing to invade and kill everyone, people have to be ready to see reason and compromise. I just don’t understand how we sunk to this in only two years since the mountain, and if I really try to imagine it, I don’t think many people will see the light and take the chance you’re offering”.

“I know Rae, to be honest, I don’t either, and you don’t have to say it, the Chancellor has the people in such a tight grip, not allowed to wander, to explore, to live. And something really strange is going on with her and Pike. From what our scouts can observe, whenever she sees him, her level of crazy goes off the charts. It’s like he’s the one behind her, the voice in her ear whipping her into a frenzy. It’s just something we have to figure out, if the Arkers don’t force our hand before that”.

“I’m going to be straight with you” Raven started, before Clarke interrupted with a snicker. “Shut up! When did you get so insufferable? ANYway, I”m serious, listen. You need to do what you need to do. I know you want to resolve this without hurting anyone, I get that, but at this point, the longer you wait, the worse things will be. The good people, the decent ones just trying to survive, will come around. Those that don’t, fuck ‘em.”

Having both said their peace, at least as much as Clarke was going to share in one go with Raven, they bid each other goodnight. As Raven layed down on her surprisingly comfortable bed of covered needles and soft furs, she noticed that the warriors of the camp, those that weren’t on watch, seem to have all put their bedding much farther from Clarke and the Commander than she had. Confused, she chalked it up to showing respect, that they wanted their leaders to have their own space, even in the woods. As closed her eyes, trying to quiet her mind after the intense discussion.

Clarke moved back over to lay next to Lexa. As the two cuddled together, content in each other’s arms, some shuffling could be heard, sounding like the rustling of fabric.

Raven’s eyes snapped open a moment later when the low whispering registered in her mind, Clarke’s low but husky voice admonishing “Lexa, come on, Rae is right over there. We’ll just have to wait.”

She’s not sure, but somehow she could clearly see an uncharacteristic pout on the Commander’s face before the whispering resumed, this time from Lexa “Clarke, we can be very quiet hodness, no one will know.”

Since her mind was obviously keen on supplying images for the frankly hilarious situation, she pictured the look of utter incredulity on Clarke’s face, as if Lexa had just told her that pauna made good pets.

Snorting to herself, trying not to giggle out loud, she refocused in time to hear Clarke again shutting down Lexa’s advances. Hearing a huff and the sound of furs shifting, she was startled out of her pretend-sleep by Lexa’s voice at normal speaking volume. “Reivon kom Skaikru, would you be unduly disturbed by our lovemaking?”

As Clarke slapped a hand to her forehead, the giggle Raven had been holding finally escaped, and she curled up on her side in laughter.

Lexa, seeing this, looked back at her wife. Clarke, wearing a look of love and understanding, nevertheless shook her head no. Lexa straightened her features from an ever-so-slightly hopeful look, to one of resignation. It seemed that there would be no lovemaking that evening. It was just as well, as their comfortable bed and, as Clarke called them, “toys”, were not brought in their hasty departure. As Anya had taught her, it takes as long as it takes. As Clarke had put it, patience is a virtue. Settling back onto her side, Lexa allowed herself to be the ‘little spoon’ as Clarke called it. They each spent time as one or the other, and often traded in the night.

The night passed uneventfully after that, the guards changing off the watch at regular intervals, though all remained quiet. It seemed as though either the Arkers had no will to follow, or the gonakru that remained behind had done a good job at dissuading them.

So it was, just before dawn, that the camp started to come to life again. Raven woke with a stretch, seeing that both the Commander and Clarke were already up and helping with the morning meal. Standing with difficulty, she staggered in the direction that she’d been told to use as the bathroom, relieving herself and using some of the water and soap to freshen-up.

As she returned to the log near the fire, a plate and cup were handed to her by Clarke. Lexa sat down nearby with two plates and Clarke took the spot between the two. As Raven examined the contents of the plate, she again had to swallow her emotions. Something as simple as real food, in this case eggs, vegetables, and some of the deer meat from last night made into some kind of grounder omelette, real tangible food that so many had been denied for so long. Lifting her cup, her nose registered the earthy smell of a fruity tea, steam still rising from the wooden cup.

To say that Raven demolished the meal, just like dinner the night before, would be an understatement. Placing the dishes back in the spot that seemed reserved for them, her plate didn’t have a spot of food left on it, and her cup was bone dry.

Moving back to Clarke and Lexa, she caught the tail end of their conversation, with Lexa explaining “should be in position roughly one half mile from the treeline on all sides, with strict orders to remain out of sight. I’ve given the order to hold there, and to make sure that the smoke from any fires is concealed to ensure they remain hidden. Other than the infantry, the scouts and rangers are also in position, and the mounted gona have set up the temporary means to keep the horses ready until we move into the clearing to make a proper camp”.

Looking questioning at Clarke, she watched her take a deep breath before squaring her shoulders and answering the unasked question “Well Rae, you said whatever it took. Lexa and I came to the same decision, about six weeks ago. Before you get upset, I wasn’t keeping this from you. Before you leave this morning for Polis, I was going to tell you the rest. One way or another this has to be resolved.”

“If we go back with ten to twenty warriors, we’ll either get wiped out or forced to leave. If we go in with equal numbers, it’ll be a bloodbath, even though we’d prevail. Our only option is to go in with such overwhelming numbers, a force so obviously prepared to simply eradicate every person in that camp, that it forces them to surrender. Despite everything, I don’t want to have to slaughter all those people, or even most. Some of them will die, there’s no getting around that. I’ve seen though firsthand, and read enough in reports to know that the ringleaders and those deep in their pockets have to die.”

“It is better this way Reivon kom Skaikru” Lexa began. “If those that created this mess, or at least allowed it to fester, are allowed to live, then the lessons that must be learned by your people will amount to nothing. Sometimes it is nature that is cruel, but in this case, that cruelty came from your leaders, and without their blood, the pain of that cruelty will stain your people. We must allow them to be free if they are to have a chance.”

Swallowing, Raven nodded. They both knew the list of people Clarke was talking about. Neither mentioned the names, but who else could it be? Squeezing Clarke’s shoulder, she moved to begin gathering her things.

As the camp was packed up and the horses readied for travel, Raven knew that she wouldn’t see Clarke or Lexa again until this was over. Part of her wanted to go with them, wanted to demand that they allow her to stand beside them as they did this. But the practical, logical part of her knew that she had to focus on herself, getting better now. If any of the Skaikru were to survive, she’d need to be ready to do her part. They didn’t have much left by way of technology, but she was adamant that it could help, either the arkers or the grounders. No, she couldn’t be selfish and childish, she had to get ready for what was to come.

As the gona started mounting their horses, Raven tried to swing herself up on the stirrup as she’d seen them do. As hands grabbed her hips from behind and easily hoisted her into position, she expected to turn and see Clarke. Instead, Lexa stood by the horse, looking at Raven with respect. She could see Clarke giving instructions to Ryder off to the side.

“You are her closest friend, Reivon kom Skaikru. Know that she argued, fought, and raged at what was done to you, so eager to save you from that place. In the end, she had to make the right choice for all your people. Now that you have been reunited, once we return to Polis and your healing is complete, I cannot imagine what will separate you again. Also know this. As much as she values you as a friend, and as much as I have come to see you as a formidable and loyal person, it would be best if you picked a sleeping spot farther away from us in the future.” Maintaining a straight face, Lexa added “Know this, Reivon kom Skaikru, I will not be clam-jammed a second time, and turnabout is fair play.”

At this, Lexa turned and walked back to Clarke, leaving behind first a stunned and then a cackling Raven. As Lexa approached, she added her own instructions to the conversation with Ryder. Once finished, the gonakru turned back towards the trail, pointed in the direction that they’d been traveling the day before. Lexa and Clarke also mounted up, alone, sending their warriors with Raven to keep her safe.

Just before the larger group passed a bend in the trees, Raven spotted out Clarke, hand in the air, waving goodbye. Raising her own hand before losing sight of Clarke, her heart swelling with gratitude for all that her friend had done and would do, for her and for their people, she murmured “May we meet again, Wanheda”.

Chapter Text

Raven rode encircled by grounders, Ryder keeping pace beside her. They set a quick but reasonable pace, not only because they weren’t in a hurry anymore (though Raven knew that she’d be missed sooner rather than later, once the next piece of shit something decided to break, or explode, or maybe Bellamy’s balls would be caught in machinery), but also because they were already halfway to Polis thanks to the mad rush the day before.

Just over a day’s ride between the capital and Camp Jaha should’ve meant that the populations saw one another, like ever, but when one was a prison, and the other had orders not to approach, she supposed that isolation was the natural result. Though obviously the arker camp was under a microscope, at least to the degree that it could be in secret, she wondered what the spy reports had said. Based on Clarke’s reactions to things, they’d obviously told her how Raven was treated, how Bellamy had changed, or she guessed hadn’t changed as they’d hoped. She wondered what the reports would say about Pike, who always seemed to be the silent schemer. Or Abby, who seemed to be fighting a war within herself, the semi, slightly less asshole side fighting a war with the Queen Bitch of Bitchville, with some bitch on the side, until she seemed to lose the war and go full retard. And you never go full retard. As Raven liked to say, she went from being an asshole to an asswhole. To think Clarke came from that, to have that for a mom, to have your mom basically straight up murder your dad for political gain. Oh she’d deny it, but how else do you go from second in command of Medical and a junior counselor to head of Medical and third in command, second only to Jaha and Kane? By letting your good friend Theo off your husband, who’d been a constant thorn in everyone’s side, everyone that wanted more discipline, the list of treasonous acts expanded, and even darker shit. Raven had spent enough time hidden-out in the air ducts near Command or the Council chambers to know exactly what Abby was made of, even before Pike got his hooks into her.

Coming out of her wandering thoughts, she glanced at Ryder. So stoic, and quiet, and he just exuded an aura of competence. Like anyone in his care could walk into space, no suit required, and they’d be fine because Ryder protects. She remembered him from before the mountain, having seen him at times when Clarke went to meet with Lexa. Snorting to herself, she wondered just what went on in those meetings, knowing what she knew now.

Her noise of amusement drew Ryder’s attention and, looking at her briefly, informed her in his quiet but commanding voice “Do not worry Raven kom Skaikru, we will be there within another two hours. You will be able to relax your leg soon.”

Nodding at him, she was reminded by the way he said her name that it wasn’t quite right. Like he was trying to combine the Gonasleng and Trigedasleng versions. Maybe what made it not quite right was that it was the wrong person saying it.

Sighing, she let her mind drift, as it often had, to the fucking awesome warrior queen, okay general, that she’d tried to get to know. Anya, coming so close to death at the hands of the Arkers, had seemingly taken that as a sign to learn more about the potential ally, or enemy. That had meant many interesting conversations with Raven while Clarke and the Commander had discussed strategy. Usually Anya would’ve most likely been included in that, but from what she saw and heard, Anya addressed concerns and ideas to the Commander before or after Clarke’s visits.

So, Raven and Anya talked. Raven had learned from Clarke that Anya had actually been the one to mentor the Commander from the age of five, teaching her everything she could about how to be a warrior, a leader, and the type of person who guided their people, not merely a dictator as some of the previous Hedas had apparently been.

Using that knowledge as a bridge, she asked Anya a million questions. Most were met with a blank stare. Some were met with an aggressive one. Sometimes she even saw Anya reaching for a blade before Lexa would chide her. It was always an interesting reaction, always telling something about what was in the blonde’s head. Her persistence had eventually paid off, and Anya started talking to her. At first, it was just to insult her. She’d been called a branwada enough times over stupid questions, but the one thing that Anya never did was call Raven herself stupid. It seemed that even though the annoyance, there was respect for her knowledge and skills.

And so it was that much more upsetting when she was told later that the grounders had retreated from the mountain. Clarke mostly kept her eyes on Lexa, but even so, she saw Anya trying to hold that stoic mask in place as the Commander did what was best for her people, at the expense of Anya, and Raven, and at the expense of Clarke, even the expense of Lexa herself. As Anya had walked passed Clarke on her way down the mountain, she’d muttered one phrase, which Raven had figured out on her own. With one brief flash of Anya’s eyes focusing on Clarke, Anya had murmured quietly “Tell Raivon nodotaim”, and nothing more.

That had been the last that Raven had heard of the grounder general. Of course she hoped that she might run into her at some point in Polis. She knew that Anya was usually based near TonDC, where she acted as the commanding general of the area. Indra, as village chief, also doubled as the Trikru’s leader given that Lexa wore the mantle of Commander, and could not wear both hats. No, it wasn’t likely that she’d see Anya, but she hoped.

As they crested another small hill, she saw the forest give way to small farms. Working the fields, bringing in the autumn harvest, the people nonetheless took the time to wave greetings as they passed, and Ryder dipped his head each time. It seems he was well known in the areas surrounding Polis. Approaching what had to be the last rise before Polis, Raven looked forward, hoping that the city was as amazing as Clarke and even Lexa hinted it would be. They’d given her exactly zero details, and the only thing she’d managed to pick up from their conversations was that Heda and, by extension her wife, lived in what they called a tower. Musing to herself, Raven opined that a grounder tower must be about three stories high. Perhaps it’s appearance was that of a medieval building? Well, she wasn’t about to insult her hosts by sounding less than impressed, no matter what it ended up looking like.

Even before she crested the final hill, she saw something in the distance. Squinting, it appeared to be walls, the kind of which would surround a great city, protecting it. These weren’t merely stone walls though. They appeared to be covered in vegetation, though Raven couldn’t see how that would be possible, or wise. Couldn’t people climb the plants and breach the walls? At the top of the hill, she was finally able to observe perspective, and use that to judge not only the distance but the height of the walls.

They appeared to be… no, that’s not right. She looked at the shadow cast by the wall, and tried to rough-out some calculations in her head using geometry. Nothing was coming out right, so she tried again, looking more confused and disgruntled each time. Finally having enough, she turned to Ryder “How tall are the walls, if you know?”

She watched as he swelled with pride slightly “When Lexa became Heda, they were fifty feet high.”

At this number, she inhaled, prepared to question further, but he continued “She has since added an additional fifty feet”.

Hearing this number, her jaw dropped. To erect walls, one hundred feet high, around an entire city would take a labor force of… and materials… and… she stared at the walls impressed. But he wasn’t done with shocking her.

“The vines you see come from far south, in Yujleda, Broadleaf Clan’s lands. They vines themselves do not start until ten feet above where the wall meets the ground. This is purposeful, as the vine has razor sharp thorns that even metal cannot cut and fire does not burn. These thorns hold a poison that could kill a horse in under a minute. The Commander also added the vines to the walls, as they were bare before her ascension.”

Looking at them with a new respect, she noted another oddity. At what appeared to be roughly the center of the walls, there was… 'Jesus are you kidding me? There’s a fucking skyscraper in the goddamned city!'

“Holy shit is that the tower? How fucking tall is that thing? How did it survive?” she ranted at Ryder, not letting him answer even if he tried. Looking back at the tower, she could see that it was in nearly perfect shape. Not pre-war just built shape, but still, how in the actual fuck was it still standing? She also noticed a fire glowing at the top of the tower, near a narrower section that looked about ten stories high, right at the top. Looking closer, the flames were an eerie green. Looking back at Ryder, waiting for any answers, she saw the amusement written clearly on his usually stoic face.

“Yes Raven kom Skaikru, that is Heda’s tower. As for its height, it has 101 floors, though several near the top are inaccessible. It is, to our best reckoning, over 1400 feet high. The height makes using the stairs quite a workout, but there are elevators. They use counterweights in order to move. The tek that used to move the ropes for us has not worked in some time. I believe it has been the span of twenty years, or four Hedas. The fire burns green when both Heda and Wanheda are absent, to alert messengers and others that an audience is not possible. There are other colors used, such as when one is away and the other present, and when the coalition is at war.”

Raven looked at the tower again, examining it as the toughest nut she’d seen in a long time, and just like she wanted to do with Bellamy’s, she was going to crack this nut god dammit.

He explained that they’d had to replace the elevator cables with a rope, supposedly stronger than the cable had been originally. She was sure that, given enough time, the elevators would run as they used to. He described the tower, that it was a city within the city, housing a large indoor market, training grounds for warriors and a future generation of possible Hedas, armories, kitchens, weapon and armor crafting, weaving, the list went on and on. Of course, the things she’d expected were also there. Spaces to house the different clan’s delegations and ambassadors, a map room with maps corresponding to every inch of coalition territory, strategy and war rooms, and near the top, housing for Heda and Wanheda, and the throne room.

To say she was impressed was an understatement. Grounders may live rough when in the forests, and even in their villages by comparison, but as she’d learned early on, they were hardly savages. The tower spoke of planning, and thought to the future, a vibrant culture and with it, the tower as it’s hub. Casting her eyes to the other grounders with them, she could see that her awe was provoking pride in their expressions, and she acknowledged that they had every reason to be proud.

Drawing nearer to the city, Raven realized that she’d made a mistake again. From a distance, she’d concluded the city might be ten square miles. As they approached, she revised her estimate much higher. “How many people live in Polis?” she asked Ryder.

“That depends on the season, and what celebrations are underway. We do not count people as the old world used to, for the sake of knowing exactly how many live where. Wanheda has explained the value of such a thing, and it may come about again, but to answer your question, I would say roughly fifty thousand men women and children.”

At hearing the number, she wanted to dispute it, to ask any number of questions. She let the number sit in her mind and it was only once she thought it through to her satisfaction that she asked the question for which she knew the answer “If you’d really wanted to wipe us out, at the dropship, or even the Ark, it wouldn’t even have been hard, would it?”

Deciding on truth, for that was the reason she'd asked, he replied “No, Raven kom Skaikru. What you have seen so far are small bands of warriors, mere companies of warriors. Even the mountain and the thousand warriors sent was not a true display of what Heda commands, there simply wasn’t enough room to camp more warriors and feed them in an area where the animals had learned to avoid.”

Knowing the number would bother her, but that it would bother her more not to know, he anticipated her next question, “In all the coalition, there are perhaps a quarter million people. Of those, Heda could gather and equip an army of perhaps eighty thousand if forced, and could call on twenty to twenty five thousand without leaving areas defenseless or taking too long to gather”.

Having no idea that so many grounders even existed, it’s not like she could dispute what he was saying. If this was true, it put into perspective just what an insignificant pain in the ass the Arkers had been. 'I mean the leader of a quarter million people had gone to personally deal with 98 idiots in the woods, likely just because of where they came from.'

Even the Ark coming down, with hundreds surviving, was hardly a blip in terms of numbers. To Raven, this showed her something more about Lexa. She could have wiped them out, crushed them, destroyed them as simply as snapping her fingers. She could’ve had them rounded up and imprisoned, or kept as slaves if such a thing existed again. But she didn’t. Time and time again they’d fucked the pooch when it came to getting along with the grounders, or at least not pissing them off again, but they had, over and over, and over, and then some.

If Lexa were really the cold heartless bitch that the Arkers wanted to make her out to be, they wouldn’t be breathing. Their guns, their tech, wouldn’t have amounted to shit in the face of those numbers. They were, they are, and they always had been at the grounders’ mercy, they just hadn’t realized how restrained, how patient they were being. Oh sure, they’d killed some of the Arkers, but if ninety-eight fools showed up in your backyard, what would you do? Probably come outside with a shotgun, and that’s metaphorically exactly what the grounders had done.

Shaking off these thoughts, Raven saw that they were approaching an opening in the very high wall. She could make out guards, and even at the top of the wall there were shapes moving. As they approached, she saw a sign, a rather beautiful and ornate one with POLIS painted on it. Looking closer, she had no doubt who’d made it, since according to Lincoln, grounders had no written language. Indeed, in the corner, she saw the letters, infinitely small, WCG.

Ryder approached what appeared to be a guard house, a surprisingly sturdy looking structure made of stone and wood, just outside the gate. Waving to someone through the cloudy but still serviceable window, the person stepped outside. The guards that had accompanied them lined up to one side on their horses, content to wait while Ryder handled things. Like every grounder she’d ever seen, the man who came outside was massive, sporting leather and even a few bits of metal on his armor. He also had some metal pieces near his shoulder, but these appeared to be some type of insignia rather than for protection. The man was blonde, easily six and a half feet tall, and had sharp grey eyes. Ryder quickly fired off a greeting, as well as several more sentences in Trig. Raven internally cursed that she hadn’t learned more of the language yet, but Lincoln had spent the last two years trying to keep an increasingly bitchy O in line, so it’s not like he had the time.

As Ryder finished his mostly one-sided conversation, the man looked at her, briefly smirked, and summoned a runner. After listening for a moment, the runner did what he was supposed to do, he hauled ass in the direction of the tower. Glancing in question to Ryder, he responded “Wanheda anticipated the possibility that you’d return to Polis, though not this early. I have sent word through the runner that you are here, and to alert the chief healer, in this case Nyko who is on loan from Indra, that he is needed. Wanheda spoke to me briefly about your injuries and that Nyko would attempt to help. It is best that he get started as soon as possible, since the situation with the Skai natronas will soon reach the breaking point.”

Raven took the information in stride, both gleeful and apprehensive that something would be done soon about her busted wing. 'This bird needs to fly, and I've been grounded, pun intended, long enough.' If a healer could do even half of what Clarke thought they could, she’d do a fucking summersault and kiss Indra.

'Well, maybe not Indra.'

Still mounted, they made their way passed the gates and into the city proper. It was what she expected, a city. Children running everywhere, laughing and playing games, the rules of which changed every five seconds. People going about their business. Houses here, businesses there, she even saw inns and taverns. There were merchants everywhere, selling food, clothing, weapons, everything you could imagine. She even saw a merchant selling what looked like paper, inks and quills. She made a note to visit that merchant in the future, missing the ability to write out her ideas, to sketch designs on actual hard copy instead of the shitty tablets the Ark had.

At the next intersection, they turned to the right, spotting a rather large area with a building in front of it, the picture of a horse painted on the sign. Knowing that her long, painful ride was about to come to an end, Raven tried to sit up straighter in the saddle, determined to finish with some dignity. The rest of the guards in tow, Ryder led them all to a cordoned-off section, apparently set aside for specific horses, and dismounted. As she moved to do so, he stopped her, first leading her horse over to his own stall. Throwing her leg over the side and sliding down, she was caught off guard as first her knees gave out, and that she didn’t fall. Instead, in as gentlemanly a way as possible, while also being at arm’s length, Ryder held her up, giving her time to find her feet again.

She could have felt embarrassed, and deep down, perhaps she did a bit, but he had treated her with respect, again doing only what she needed, not solicitous, and not assuming. As she prepared to move under her own weight, she was surprised that he spoke up.

“All people need help at one time or another. There is no shame in accepting it. In our culture, it is as much an honor to receive help as it is to give it. It is a sign that there are those that care about you enough to lend a hand, knowing that you are the type of person that would do the same. It is hard to explain, but it is not charity, it is an investment, for who is to say when I will need a hand, and you are the one to help”.

Well, what the hell do you say to that? “Thank you Ryder. That’s an amazing way to look at it” Yeah, it wasn’t enough, and it didn’t come close to saying how entirely opposite and fucking wonderful the difference was between grounders and Arkers when it came to respect. When the hell had her people shoved their heads so far up their asses? The next Arker she heard call a grounder savage, she’d plant her entire leg up their ass.

Now more steady on her feet, Ryder released her and stepped away with no fuss. Pulling the saddlebags off both their horses and throwing them over his shoulders, he directed her to the exit, explaining that the horses would be well tended by the stable hands. As she exited, she noted that they were in the section directly next to another, that section having a carved cog wheel in gold and a blue star on the wall at the entrance. Looking back, she noticed a smaller one with a shield accompanying it on the wall for their section. She quickly surmised that her section was for the horses of Heda’s guard, while the larger gear and star area was for the Commander’s and Clarke's horses. No sooner had the thought finished than Ryder’s words were proved true. Two young men and two young women moved with haste towards the section they’d exited, carrying brushes, buckets of water, and food, clearly on their way to care for the horses. The other guards sent with them all departed, appearing to all head in the same direction towards the tower, likely to report in or to get a meal, shower, or nap.

Passing yet more merchants, more kids, more business and houses, Raven realized that everything that they’d ever hoped for the Earth had come true, but not due to the Arkers. Here was a thriving people living free. There was no threat of execution for littering. They didn’t lock children away for years. They didn’t force you to fuck and get pregnant for the good of the species like the breeding program did on the Ark. In every single way that mattered, these people had achieved, while the Arkers were absent, the entire purpose for which the Ark was launched to begin with. Humans were thriving, they were reproducing. They were learning, and teaching, and growing, and laughing, and living. It was a hell of a lot more than she could say about anyone back at Camp Jaha.

She glanced up at the tower, now dwarfing them and everything around them. Another hundred feet and they’d be at it’s base, and she noticed an odd reflectivity to the surface of the metal. Looking ahead, there were a series of cement steps leading up to the front of the building. Glancing back up now that she wasn't about to fall on her face, she saw the circular shape she'd spotted in the distance. About twenty stories up the building, just where the widened base ended it's taper was the Commander gear. It looked massive, and as she got closer, she saw that it was roughly fifty feet tall, a permanent fixture to the side of the massive building. She supposed that, before the coalition, such a sign of power or ownership might’ve been needed, but this appeared to have always been there. Of course, now that Lexa ruled all the clans, she may as well put her symbol everywhere. As they entered through the metal and glass doors, Raven marveled at the glass. It was obvious that glass wouldn’t have survived the nuclear war, and this clearly hadn’t, but what shocked her was that this glass, flawed and containing bubbles in places, foggy and nowhere near clear, was obviously made by the grounders. Looking at the other doors, they were much the same. Not a single piece of glass was pre-war.

Shaking her head at the ingenuity, she stepped through and came to a dead standstill. Staring up, she was just dumbfounded. The first eight or so floors of the building were open in the center, with an atrium occupying the space, large trees dominating the area. If that weren’t enough, birds and other small animals could be seen moving between the trees, and a fountain HOLY FUCK OH MY GOD running water?!!!! Ryder gently took her by the elbow, leading her out of the path of traffic to allow her time to take it all in. This means she could have A SHOWER! Grinning wider as each moment passed, she nodded at Ryder to lead on, resolved to stop underestimating these people.

As he led her over to a bank of elevators, she could see that each of the doors was painted with a mural, all in different styles, though none bearing the signature WCG. Pulling a hose tube thing on the wall beside the elevator, Ryder blew into it. A moment later, a really shitty and hard to understand voice came through it, asking a question in Trig. Obviously it was asking how many, as Ryder simply answered “Tu”. The next question she could guess, asking what floor. That number she didn’t get, but a moment later he replaced the hose tube thing and they stepped inside.

This was where the most work was done to redesign the system. On all four sides, bolted to each of the walls were hand straps, both at adult and child height. She observed Ryder putting his hand through one, then gripping the base of the strap with his hand. She did the same, and a moment later, she felt the elevator car move. It wasn’t like a horror film, and it certainly didn’t move at the speed that mechanical help would’ve achieved. It did, however, work. They slowly ambled up, and Raven guessed, based on the light she could see between the doors, that they were moving about four floors every ten seconds. The elevator wasn’t the smoothest ride with her injury, but it was a lifesaver when compared to stairs.

They began to slow, and after what Raven would guess to be about twenty-five floors, the doors opened. Since they were in an interior hallway, what appeared to be oil lamps lit the way. She knew what floor they were on when she caught sight of rooms with several beds in them, each sporting a person with an injury. Ryder led the way passed all of them, approaching some kind of central area. Standing there, apparently waiting, was Nyko. Bag slung over his shoulder, he nodded to Ryder, who moved aside and sat in a chair.

“Greetings Ravon kom Skaikru” close, but no cigar Nyko… “I am glad to see you again, under better circumstances than after the missile. Will you come this way please? I have a room set aside for us to talk”.

She followed him in, taking a seat on the chair facing his. Setting the bag down beside himself, Nyko began.

“Wanheda has told me about your injuries sustained at the mountain, and what has been done in the mean time to heal you, which amounts to nothing, is that right?”

She nodded, trying not to let her emotions show at admitting how shitty they’d treated her. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but that didn’t stop the shame from attempting to rise for having allowed it. He’d paused as she collected herself, and taking a deep breath, she nodded again for him to continue.

“I know that the Skaikru have taboos on showing themselves, but will you allow me to examine you? I will do as little as possible to determine your condition, but since we are talking about bones, I will need to touch you, your hip and most likely your upper leg. You can of course decline with no shame.”

Bracing herself, knowing that this was only the first hurdle, she replied “Yes, you have to know what you’re working with, and I get that. In our healing, we change clothes to allow the healer to see what they need, is that how this works?”

Nyko shook his head “That is not necessary. I will give you a blanket, and you may cover any part of you that you wish.”

Raven moved to the cot in the room before removing her brace and balancing on one leg. She turned away, and removed her pants and underwear using the wall as support. Covering her privates, she reclined on the cot and nodded, putting on a brave face. As he moved nearer, she tensed, then forced herself to relax.

Gazing down at her eyes, Nyko waited for permission. Raven nodded again, and he allowed his gaze to drop to her thigh. Seeing the bruising present, he traced the path and found the scar, still angry and raised. Looking up to her again, “May I see your hip please?”

Nodding again, she moved the blanket slightly, still careful to keep her areas covered. He could see an additional scar here and, looking closer, he began to see small scars all over her leg, hip, and the portion of her belly he could see. Nyko said nothing, but clearly understood the signs of abuse when he saw them. Nodding, he looked back up “Thank you Raven. I will return to my seat, you may redress. Once finished, please join me.”

Raven did so, and looked expectantly at Nyko. Without replying, Nyko reached into his bag and produced a pouch. It was leather, and old. Holding it out, he began to untie it’s fastenings.

“Wanheda spoke to you about a medicine which may help. She learned of it from me, when asking many months ago what could be done to help you. I told her that very little could be done, and she set me on the task of searching through our fisa books. These are not books with words, but pictures, cataloging plants, herbs, ways of preparing medicine and ways of healing using what she called surgery. In it, I discovered the firebloom. It is a flower which is only found near a Fiyamoun, a volcano. This flower glows a fiery red, even in the blackest night. It was then my job to find it.”

Nodding at him to continue, he finished unwrapping the bundle and produced a glowing red substance in a jar. “It took nine moons, and runners were sent to every corner of the coalition. Heda and Wanheda themselves made the messengers sent with their own instructions, and one was found, only one. This will be used, as the seaweed you are familiar with, to make a drink. Once the tea is consumed, the effects will occur over the course of several weeks to finish. With the state of your injury, however, I would not be surprised if you saw some immediate improvement, again if it works. But I must caution you, you shall regain some of your movement, and lose some of your pain, but this is not a cure, as I’m sure Wanheda has said”.

Nodding, Raven replied “When can we start?”

“Right now.” Taking the lid off the jar, he took a previously unseen teapot from a nearby table. Pouring water into a cup, he then added the entire contents of the jar and began stirring vigorously.

“Unfortunately, in Wanheda’s words, this will taste like pauna ass, but that is how you know it is working.”

Finishing the stirring, he handed her the cup. To say that Raven prayed would be an understatement. The grounder Spirits, God, Jahova, Jesus, Moses, Allah, Mohammad, hell, she prayed to Hephaestus, God of the Forge and father of mechanics everywhere. Then, tipping the cup back, she chugged it down.

Neither Clarke nor Nyko were wrong. If anything, she thinks pauna ass would be an upgrade over this drink. The reflex to gag, choke, and throw it up all over Nyko’s expectant face was fierce. Since this was her ticket to a better life, she kept every fucking drop in her mouth.

Finishing, she looked at him expectantly in return, as if waiting for lightning to strike. When nothing happened after five seconds, she let out the loudest, most obnoxious burp either of them had ever heard. She then started laughing until she cried.

After a minute or two in which her thoughts ran the gamut of emotions, she nodded at him again.

“We will know in the next few days if it will work. You will feel a slight tingling sensation in the injured area within the next several hours, but it will be unmistakable. When you feel it, return to me. Unlike what Wanheda feared, I do not believe we will have to break and mend any bones. Do you have any questions?”

Answering no, she stood and they both left the room. Ryder likewise stood as they exited, and guided her back to the elevator, repeating the process from the ground floor. As they stepped inside, her thoughts colliding against each other she absently grabbed the strap as they again ascended.

Stepping out several minutes later, Raven looked over and saw one of the imperfect windows, obviously indicating the outside wall of the building. Detouring them, she approached, and stared in awe at the view from one hundred stories in the air. Taking everything in, she thought about the other delinquents, and everything since the return of the Arkers to the ground. ‘

'Fuck, enough bullshit introspection, time to get on with life Reyes.’

Ryder led her over to a doorway, where another wall in the shape of a grounder guard stood.

“This is Jaxo. Wanheda has assigned him to you as your guard while you are in Polis”.

Looking at him, she tried not to notice the fact that he bulged everywhere. From a distance she’d caught sight of his more minimalist armor, complete with abs…

'FUCK! Is this what Clarke was talking about? She’s trying to set me up with some massive grounder to pound… oh God not that again….'

Her thoughts were interrupted by a spectacular sight. Running down the hallway, having exited the stairwell, came a flushed, sweaty, wind-swept, heaving-chested and panting Anya, her eyes as wide as Raven’s as she took in the sight of the Skai girl.

Ryder, standing slightly behind Raven and truly enjoying the show that the stoic general was putting on, had to call her on the obvious.

“Onya, did you run up one hundred flights of stairs?”

“What? No! The elevators take too long, besides, exercise is good for the body.” Anya tried to play it off, failing spectacularly as she puffed herself up under Raven's gaze.

'Holy SHIT is it good for the body. She’s more ripped than she was at the mountain! Keep your shit together Raven. Play it cool, COOL, ice.'

“Uh, hi Anya!” Raven throws in a little wave, totally not keeping her shit remotely together.

“Hello Raivon kom Skaikru. It has been some time.” Anya says, trying to deepen her voice to sound suave, instead sounding like she’s choking on her tongue.

As Ryder and Jaxo continue to watch, he once again has to interject.

“Where were you anyway? I thought for certain that the runner would’ve told you of our arrival.”

At this, Anya’s face morphs into the look of fury. “Heda has again seen fit to punish me, having someone draw me from the tower at your arrival. For the love of the Spirits, tell Heda that she has gotten enough revenge for clam-jamming her, though where Wanheda heard such a term I do not know. I was simply concerned for her safety, leaned over the railing of the balcony and Clarke pushing with such force behind her! I did not realize what they were doing until I saw the straps on Clarke's hips and the leather holding Lexa's ankles to the railing supports."

As Raven listened, her eyes got wider and wider, her mouth slowly opening, moving on it’s own, with no sound coming out.

Ryder answered “It might have been one of the other three times that you’ve interrupted them.”

Snapping out of her fugue, Raven again looks at Anya, who turns to her to explain, all emotion now gone from her face.

“They are like rabbits. Teenaged, drugged, frenzied rabbits in heat given their last chance in life to mate. I have seen more restraint from goufa on jobi nuts. They have used each of the ambassador's chairs, the throne, the map table, at least 4 elevators, and though I cannot prove it, the chandelier in the formal dining hall.”

As Raven just stares at her, she realizes suddenly that fuck, this is it. This is her life now. As her grin splits her face wide, she walks up to Anya, putting a hand on her forearm.

“Do you know where a girl can get some lunch around here?”

Chapter Text

Clarke lowered her hand once Raven was out of view. Turning to Lexa, she gathered herself for what was to come. But first, they had to make their way back to the Camp Jaha area.

Turning their horses, they set a blistering pace, knowing that things at the camp could only have deteriorated every moment they were gone, and was likely to still be doing so. Riding side by side along the paths which the scouts had cleared over the last year, knowing that the Skaikru doesn’t venture out that far so there was no need to conceal their efforts, it made the trip that much faster.

As the trip continued, Clarke allowed her mind to wander, not for the fight to come, but to what Raven would find when she reached Polis. She knew that her wife had arranged to trick Anya into leaving the tower before Raven’s arrival. Chuckling to herself, she wondered just how adorably awkward and “extra” those two would be with each other once reunited. She knew that Raven had been quite taken with the Trikru general when she had laid eyes on her, and that continued as they got to know one another briefly before the mountain. While her knowledge of Raven’s infatuation was two years out of date, she had no trouble remembering Anya’s stance on the dark haired mechanic.

Over the course of the many meals shared in Heda’s tower, which she recalled was originally nicknamed The 101, for it’s height, Anya had, without knowing it, opened up to Clarke and Lexa about her feelings. Anya wasn’t one to mince words, but she also wasn’t one to discuss feelings unless something could be done about them. Skaikru’s isolation had halted, though now she supposed it had just postponed, the course of Raven and Anya’s slow and very unusual courtship. She knew that neither would admit it, but she could see Raven’s looks at Anya, and when Raven’s head was turned, Anya’s returning gaze. Both looks held the same thing, fascination, hope, consternation in Anya’s case, and for both, fear. Clarke supposed that people didn’t get to be Anya’s age, or even Raven’s, without going through heartache. From the reports and from firsthand experience, Clarke knew about Finn, and about the disastrously, almost laughably unfulfilling night with Bellamy, and Kyle Wick. Wick, from what Clarke could remember, hadn’t seemed like a bad person, but most of the evil living in Camp Jaha hadn’t seemed that way at the time.

Clarke knew that he’d used Raven, everyone in the camp did with the volume at which Raven screamed at him. Then he had died. Just like Finn had died. It didn’t take Raven’s genius, or even Clarke’s, to realize that Raven would be doing the math on the job safety of a high general of the Kongeda. Anya hasn’t gotten to where she is today by playing it safe, by avoiding fights, or by being a desk jockey. Hopefully Raven would also figure out that Anya had to be a damned good warrior, an even better tactician, and smart enough to know when not to fight. In the end, Anya had decided that she could trust in Clarke when she had no reason to, had decided to risk her honor and reputation by bringing Clarke’s offer of peace before her Heda. That should show Raven how dedicated and intuitive Anya was once you got passed the amazingly sharp sass, wit, and tongue. Then again, those were all qualities that Raven not only valued, but shared.

Yes, Clarke decided, the reunion of those two would be quite a sight to see. She’d personally ordered Ryder to not only ensure that he witnessed the event and would relay it to her with complete accuracy, but also ensured that he’d interject just the proper amount of poking at Anya at the right times to keep things moving. As surely as Clarke knew that both were interested in one another, she also knew that they could be stubborn. It was better to ensure that they get on with things. Despite everything going for both women, she knew that life on the ground was short, and prevarication can only lead to regret.

Coming out of her musings as the horses neared a stream, she followed Lexa’s lead and steered to the edge, allowing her horse to join Lexa’s in a cool drink. Turning to her wife, and allowing a smile to bloom on her face once again at the thought of her WIFE, she caught Lexa’s eye. Anyone who knew the Commander knew how strong she was, in body, in spirit, in her heart. She was ferocious, an apex predator, the kind of warrior that sensed weakness as easily as others sense the wind. That made it all the more breathtaking every time Clarke caught sight of one of her smiles, as she was smiling now. The love, the adoration, the simple all-encompassing joy of completeness on her face in private moments such as these made Clarke fall in love with her again every time. Using her thighs and the reins, she guided the horse into side-stepping until the two horses were brushing flanks, still contentedly drinking from the stream. Amusement now shining in Lexa’s eyes, Clarke leaned over and, a hair from Lexa’s lips, murmurs “Ai hod yu in, my Leksa”. Closing the gap, brushing their lips together, they lost themselves in a moment of pure contentment.

As they each pulled back, Lexa’s hand on Clarke’s cheek mirroring her’s on Lexa’s, they knew they had to continue on their journey. Pulling out dried meat, nuts, and grains formed into an easy to handle slender loaf, she tore it in half and passed the other piece to Lexa. Made for travelers as an easy way to eat without stopping, they both took a few moments to get back on the path before consuming their fill.

As they passed the stream, Lexa considered the path ahead of them. Not the road, but the course they were now set upon. While she was the Commander, always, she had also abdicated a great deal of control to Clarke in general, and in this situation, almost entirely. Many people would think that this was in deference to her love of Clarke, of Wanheda. They would think that, as Heda, it was her responsibility to ensure that all the people within her lands acted in accord with Coalition law and that the people were treated fairly. If those things didn’t happen, well they figured Heda would step in.

Those people were morons.

As Heda, she led the Coalition, a group of a dozen individual clans. In each of those clans, various cities, towns, and villages existed. Some quarter million people flourished under her direct or indirect leadership, and that was the important part that many would overlook. Each village had a leader, either a chosen warrior, sage, shaman, elder, or the like. Each town generally had leadership, including one person at the head of that town. The same, but larger could also be said about cities. Still larger in scale, each clan had it’s own leader, ultimately responsible for the internal matters of that clan and reporting only to her, and now to both her and Clarke, as Heda and Wanheda.

Why then would she be required to intervene with an internal issue in what amounted to a population of a medium sized town? She wouldn’t. It would be the town’s leadership, in this case the council and Chancellor Abby, who were responsible. Since they were also part of the problem, that meant that outside force would have to be brought to bear. As the former leader of the Skaikru, Wanheda was uniquely placed to handle the situation, though Lexa did not envy the choices ahead.

Also playing a factor was that Clarke had negotiated a treaty of sorts with Lexa. That treaty was never finalized, and had in fact been broken by Lexa herself, but in the end that didn’t matter. Because Clarke was the sole negotiator for her people, the sole recognized leader at the time, Lexa knew that her people, perhaps rightly so, would look to Clarke to set right her wayward former clan. Again, this brought Lexa no joy, and indeed knew that both of them would pay the price in anguish in the aftermath, but it also brought Lexa a feeling of pride for Clarke.

The first moment she’d laid eyes on Clarke, soft but fierce, innocent yet wise, practical yet so lost in the world around her, Lexa had known she was in trouble. Those blue beyond blue eyes, her golden hair, and that penetrating gaze that Lexa knew could see right through her carefully constructed walls of pain, isolation, and loneliness. She’d shared with Clarke what she spoke of to no other, for no more reason then she knew Clarke would understand, would listen, and would not think her weak for her dead lover.

Yes, she knew she was in trouble, and then they’d kissed. In that moment, Lexa knew that her life would not be the same. That life, from that point on, had to be about more than just survival, because she, and Clarke, and their people, they did deserve that.

With all that had happened between the day on the mountain and this one, with all the growing that both she and Clarke had done, first separately and then intertwined, she knew that this was going to be another such moment. That their path was taking them irreversibly, irrevocably towards a choice that would change both the Skaikru and her hodness.

With everything that she knew from her own culture, she understood better than most thanks to the Nightblood teachings that being either Heda or Wanheda was a terrible burden. She knew the prices she’d had to pay to get where she was. She also knew of Clarke’s battles, her pain, her anguish for paths not taken, and this would add to them. The legend of Wanheda, the spirit which had chosen Clarke, was not for the faint of heart. It would not have chosen Clarke were she not worthy, and Lexa could think of no other as fierce, as brave, or as loyal as her Clarke, not even herself.

The spirit of Wanheda was a weight, but also a boon. Certainly without the hardiness of body that it brought, any other would have perished rather than enduring what Clarke had at the hands of Nia, her torturers, and the other prisoners.

To remake yourself, to build yourself up piece by piece, to learn so much so quickly, to endure such misery and pain, the abuse and starvation and unending onslaught of battle, yes, Lexa was certain that Wanheda had chosen Clarke in the distant lands of Azgeda, and with that power Clarke had fashioned herself into a fierce a weapon on the outside to match the fierce woman within.

Only an hour now away from the outskirts, she reflected on the joy of everyday life with Clarke. Both much more physically fit than Lexa had ever been before, they were each more than a match for any who would challenge, not that any did these days. No, it seemed that their people had realized, just as Lexa had done shortly after Clarke’s return, that together, Wanheda’s spirit and that of the Commander fed one another, nurtured one another, and pushed them both to new heights. Their training together, either privately or as an example to Aden’s class of Natblinda, was something to behold. Had Titus still a head to see or life to understand, she was sure that he’d be beside himself. Chuckling to herself at her own pun, for surely a severed head at the feet of it’s own body was truly being beside oneself, she didn’t regret it, not even once. Natrona were not generally given such easy deaths, and his had not been, but in the end it had been a simple matter, he was too dangerous to everything Lexa loved to allow for the pleasure of a slow death.

With her changes to the Conclave, not to mention her creation of the coalition and the elimination of the mountain, she was already viewed as the most successful Heda ever. With Clarke, Wanheda, by her side, the woman who brought down the mountain, who alone held it’s secrets and controlled it’s tek of missiles and skaifaya, who’d done so much in both Azgeda and Polis to eliminate the threats to Lexa’s rule, none of her people had anything but love and adoration for the pair. Shaking her head at the amusing phrases her wife came up with, she recalled Clarke’s term, power couple.

Yes, she loved Clarke, loved everything about her. Loved her fierceness, her depth of compassion, her capacity of cold and unrelenting rage in the face of those who would hurt the ones she loves. She was about to witness it, for surely Raven would qualify, and others of what Clarke called The One Hundred. Had not Abby, and Pike, and Bellomy not hurt each and every one of them? And what of Lincoln and Octavia? They were close to Clarke at one time, and she was sure that her wife would like it to be so again, once Octavia had… what did her wife say? Learned to grow the fuck up and stop acting like a petulant little bitch. She knew that Clarke and Octavia had discussed, over and over again, the missile in TonDC. She knew that Clarke had given Octavia chance after chance to speak her peace, and explained in at least three different but clear ways that a leader had to make sacrifices. Clarke was unwilling to tell Octavia that the hundreds killed by the missile were hardly a scratch to the total population of TonDC, that Octavia was confusing the destruction of the entire city with the destruction of the northernmost garrison and fort, for surely that wouldn’t matter to the point. Lexa also knew that Clarke was at the end of her tolerance for Octavia, that the growth of character would happen with force, for their last interaction spoke it as clear as day. She also knew from the lengthy discussions regarding the Skai people that she and Clarke were on the same page in regards to Lincoln. Once Octavia’s head was pulled forcibly from her ass, they would be allowed to rejoin the Kongeda as free people, with Lincoln reinstated as a gona and scout of Trikru. His year of banishment and hardship was already served twice over. With what Octavia would endure at the hands of Indra, however, would probably make Octavia want to banish herself for another two years.

Coming out of her reverie, Lexa clearly saw the signs of a large force having moved through the area recently. She slowed her horse, Clarke keeping pace, as they continued along the path, already spotting the lookouts in the trees. She saw the disguised fires in the distance and knew they were minutes away. Turning to her wife, seeing the look of resolve, she knew that they were as prepared for what was to come as they could be.

As Clarke looked at Lexa, she voiced her thoughts “This is it. I know we’ve talked about it, I know we’ve gone over the possibilities, the what-if’s, and I know we decided what would happen. Being here, in this moment, so close to this finally being over, it’s almost unreal. I knew my mother had lost it, I knew she had changed, gotten worse than she was on the Ark or even once she came to the ground. Even when she sold my father to the council for her own advancement, when she tried to get me to sell your people to the mountain for our own survival, I didn’t think she could sink lower. When this battle comes, and it will, I need you to remember something Lexa.”

Pausing as her wife nodded, Clarke felt it in her heart, the thought becoming belief, the belief hardening into a reality that would never shift, could never change. Nodding herself, she declared “When this battle comes, remember that through her own choices, Abby kom Skaikru stopped being my mother. No matter what she says, no matter what words or tactics I try to use to resolve this, my mother is gone, has been gone since I was a little girl. The woman she was will live in my heart, but the woman wearing her face will burn in Hell before this is over. Wanheda swears it on the Flame.”

Nodding, Lexa steers them off the path, approaching where she knows the encampment will be. Still twenty minutes ride from Camp Jaha, and still far enough back in the treeline as not to be observed, their warriors had done well following Clarke’s orders.

As they are spotted by gona, both straighten in their saddles, moving to the makeshift stables that have been made for this portion of the line. Dismounting swiftly and fluidly, they observed the activity around them. For all intents, it appears to be a well-run camp, some 200 warriors visible. As Clarke sets off in the direction of the command tent, Lexa follows, observing warriors training, practicing the tactics that will be used in the coming battle should it occur. Noting the markings of other clans, she is pleased that the forces Clarke sent for have arrived. As they pass, warriors straighten and salute them both, briefly bowing their heads with whispers of Wanheda and Heda. Lexa is again reminded of the deep spiritual nature of her people as the more daring warriors lightly touch Wanheda, fingertips barely grazing an arm, as she passes. Lexa knows the place that the Commander of Death has in their pantheon, knows that beside and equal to The Flame sits Wanheda, The Light, for surely her wife and partner in all things could be nothing less than an equal. And on the eve of battle, who wouldn’t want the blessing of the Commander of Death?

Finally reaching the tent, Lexa spots the contingent of guards. Seeing Echo, she adds one more possible complication to the list that will likely occur in the battle, given the failed relationship between her and Bellomy. She also spots two of Clarke’s usual guards, sisters and what Clarke calls east Asian. The younger, Miko, reminded her of Octavia, though far more respectful. From what Lexa had seen, it was likely caused by growing up in the shadow of a very capable older sister that made Miko feel she had to prove herself constantly, not realizing that she already had. Her older sister Sashi reminded Lexa of Anya during the time she’d been her sekon. Brash at times, but stoic and reserved to those who didn’t know her. Always with a warmth in her eyes, just as Anya had when she’d taken Lexa under her wing and guided her, taking her from the nightblood least likely to live, all the way to becoming Heda.

Nodding to both, there were more guards, including a shorter girl named Sam. A fierce little warrior in her own right, standing five foot two, she was as likely to kill as she was to laugh until she peed herself. Nicknamed “Little Spoon” for a reason she refused to explain, she was the most outgoing of the guards and utterly fearless. Lexa had once seen her stand toe to toe with a warrior almost seven feet tall, forcing him to back down. She was one of Lexa’s favorites. Along with the four women were a few other male guards, typical warriors standing at least six feet tall, all sporting some tattoo or scar to denote their tribe, all looking on with respect at them both.

Just before entering, Clarke paused to listen as a booming male voice carried through the tent flap. “We will not hide behind others while the enemy flings their puny fiyagon at us! We will fight as we always fight!”

Not needing to hear the response, Clarke enters the tent, Lexa immediately behind her, the sister guards following. Inside are an assortment of people, some expected, some a complete surprise. The man spouting the ignorant diatribe, a huge bald pauna-like abomination, was clearly Boudalan, the captain in command of their contingent, standing on one side of the map table. Looking both unamused and unimpressed, Indra stood on the other, her eyes never leaving his twitching, red face. Off to one side, Ontari observed the scene, along with several members of various other clans.

As their presence registered, everyone turned, Indra waiting until the pauna did so, knowing not to take her eyes off of some quote unquote allies. As everyone took in the pair, slightly bowing their heads in respect, Clarke moved to stand by Indra. “So you don’t like my strategy, is that it Kern?”

Clarke had dealt with this bastard before. There were always bad apples, and arrogance and stupidity were deadly combinations. Add to that the rumors that he indulged in both keeping slaves from raids, and violating women, and his fate was all but sealed in her book. The only thing that saved him from her blades, or Lexa’s, was that there was no proof, not yet at least. Spies were generally frowned upon, but they’d agreed to make an exception. One toe out of line and this pauna would be in a cage awaiting a slow disassembly.

Grinning, as if a rapist could achieve charm, he responded “I mean no disrespect Wanheda, but my clan does not hide during battle. We must face our enemy head on if we are to retain our honor.”

Upon hearing this, several snickers were heard from the various others in the tent. Arching an eyebrow, Clarke took his response for what it was, an insult. Not only had he responded in Gonasleng when she’d addressed him in Trig, but he’d also questioned her tactics, for no other reason than pride. Added to that, the strategy was designed to spare gona lives, and she had a good idea where Kern would be during the fight, and it wouldn’t be the front line next to his warriors.

As this was happening, Lexa passed by and assumed her usual seat in any command tent, her throne. Crossing her legs comfortably, she began playing with her dagger, an old and common sign that she was deciding something. Clarke knew that she was working through the need to simply kill Kern, evidence or not, so she let her wife stew. Perhaps she’d kill him and spare them all his idiocy.

As Lexa played with her dagger, deciding how far she could shove it into Kern before he began to cry, she gazed around the tent. Something was lacking. Squinting, she made a more thorough examination.

Completely distracted now, Clarke saw Lexa’s keen gaze. Catching on before her wife at what was wrong, she marched over to the trunk of common items, and began pulling out wrapped bundles. Setting a large one down near Lexa, she unwrapped it, revealing about twenty candles. She began to light each methodically, until the strain in Lexa’s features evened out.

Hearing Kern huff, she decided she’d had enough of him. Not stopping her motions, she spoke, this time in Gonasleng “Yes Kern, we all know you’re impatient, thank you for proving you have neither intelligence nor tact. Your concerns are noted. You will do as you’ve been ordered, following the strategy that you’ve been shown, and so will your men. If you deviate from the plan in the slightest, your life is forfeit. This is not the first, or the second time that we’ve had a discussion about you listening to orders and failure to do so. It will, however, be the last.”

Finishing her current bundle, she gazed around the room, satisfied that she’d added at least 80 candles. Looking back at the rest of the room, the light and heat inside now intense, she turned to Indra. “Chief Indra, report.”

“Sha Wanheda. The warriors have all arrived. Even those from outlying clans have responded to your summons. As planned, they have sent the warriors that were trained in each of their lands based on the strategies agreed upon and relayed via messenger, sent in advance. I have met with each of their captains, Rock Line being the final meeting. All are aware of the timing as we discussed.”

“Chief Indra, remain. Everyone else leave.” At that command, the tent quickly emptied. Even the two guards that had followed Clarke inside, though she could see their silhouettes through the fabric of the tent flaps.

“How are the warriors Indra? Are they truly ready for the fight?”

“If the fight comes, if the Skai goufa will not surrender, we are more than ready. Have no worry Wanheda, by sundown your will shall be done.”

Nodding in gratitude, she turned to her wife. “Lexa, did you have anything to add? You haven’t said a word, beyond the silent scream for candles, I mean”.

“Thank you Clarke, it is fine. Indra, has there been any movement inside the Skai camp?”

“There has been some, but not nearly as much as would be expected. Leaving the detachment of six gona at the small camp that Wanheda set in the clearing has obviously fooled them into thinking that’s all she brought.” As she finished, Indra nodded at Clarke, a clear indication of her respect for a plan well executed.

Allowing a small smile to tug at her lips, Clarke followed-up “Have you seen any of the targets or the friendlies?”

“The scouts have seen Bellomy and Pike, as well as Abby shouting orders, attempting to rouse them camp into some slight defense. With no obvious threat, it only lasted the day. We did see the boy you mentioned, and we believe him to be unharmed. He helped them move the body of the one Raivon killed, and appeared to drink something clearly foul in the open last night, nearly spitting it out. He took a single drink before pouring the rest in the fire, the flames shooting towards the sky, before going back into the steel prison.”

“Good. That means we have a chance at rescuing him. He’s the only one I didn’t see when we visited. Anything on O and Lincoln?”

“We have observed them both, though it appears that Pike has ordered that they not stand watch again. Both Lincoln and Octavia were observed sharpening their weapons, appearing to be preparing for either a fight or to leave. They were also gathering what meager possessions they had, and Lincoln left some of his kill behind after hunting. It’s possible that he is trying to secure food within reach should they flee.”

“Well, if they run, it won’t be far. Have the defensive supplies arrived?”

“Sha. They arrived this morning as planned. The distribution was finished before lunch, and all teams have been ordered to practice. Based on reports, only Rock Line has not done so.”

“Thank you Indra, your attention to detail and stepping in when we had to leave is greatly appreciated, as always.” Clarke nods, shifting focus to her wife, walking over to the throne to stand beside it, gently tucking a braid behind Lexa’s ear. Distracted for a moment, she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d ever done to deserve her beautiful raccoon.

“Oh! I nearly forgot. Indra, what was the final count of warriors?” Turning back to look at Indra, curiosity on her face.

“It is as you commanded Wanheda. One thousand nine hundred and thirty-five warriors, three for every man, woman, and child in Camp Jaha, now surround it on all sides, just out of sight. There will be no escaping the fate that Wanheda brings upon her former people.”

Clarke knew, without a doubt, that one way or another, everything with the Arkers would be resolved today. Either the guilty would pay in the manner befitting their crimes, or with very few exceptions, every man and woman would be slaughtered, only the children spared.

Chapter Text

Gathering the captains for the various clans, Indra, and the personal guards around herself and Lexa, Clarke issued her last-minute orders. This was it, the culmination of planning, off and on, for the past several months. She knew people would die, but how many were up to the Arkers. Well, and to her. It was no coincidence that Kern’s squad was here. She knew that one way or another that situation would resolve itself today as well. She could feel a stirring inside her, anticipation but also something else. She knew Wanheda was eager to resolve this situation once and for all.

Even now, even having made peace with the fact that not only did she believe in the spirits and their hold on this world, but that one of the most fierce had somehow chosen her, it felt odd for that power, that will to well up inside her. Glancing to Lexa, she knew her feelings were being picked up on by her wife. A resolute look of calm understanding passed between them, for who else could understand her fate as much as this woman, this beautiful gift in her life that experienced the same thing years ago, receiving the Flame? Nodding her thanks for the support, she turned back to the assembled group.

“We will proceed with the plan as discussed. The Commander, myself, Indra, and the guards will approach the gates and give them terms. If they surrender the guilty and turn control over to Kane and Sinclair, this can end without battle.” At this, many of the captains, including Kern, shifted on their feet, Kern going so far as to scowl at the idea that a battle might not occur. Oh yes, his day is here. Hungering for battle is one thing, but the way he was practically salivating at the chance to attack Camp Jaha told her this was something else. It seemed that lacking witnesses or evidence wasn’t going to prevent justice for much longer.

Turning to Indra, she spoke “Trikru are our largest group of warriors. The first detachment will move ahead with us should we return to the treeline empty handed. The remaining forces will move out a minute following, taking the formations we’ve trained into them. Does anyone have any questions?”

Kern, with his usual wisdom, chose to speak up “Yes Wanheda. Will the spoils of the battle be divided among the clans? While the people are weak and untrained, they may be of use after an adequate breaking-in period.” Grinning to himself at this own quip, he expected at least a few of the captains to smile or nod, instead they just looked at him askance. Not getting the reaction he wanted, he turned back to Wanheda and the Commander, immediately taking a step back as all mirth left his face.

When someone pissed off Clarke or Lexa, a cold stare was generally what they received. That was not what face either of them gave Kern. Oh, their faces were passive, it was the eyes that expressed everything. Lexa’s shone with the surety that one of her people was about to die, the look she gave at executions. Clarke’s, well, to any watching who had doubted her spiritual ascension, that doubt was laid to rest in that tent. It wasn’t Clarke looking at Kern, no, Wanheda, the Commander of Death, was eyeing a man down to his very soul. When Death focuses it’s gaze on you, your days were numbered, generally on one finger.

Not bothering to answer, Clarke addressed Indra without looking away “Have the warrior’s ready and be prepared to leave in half a candlemark. Heda and I will finish equipping ourselves and meet you at the horses. Everyone is dismissed”.

Turning back to their possessions, Clarke affixed a few additional metal pieces to Lexa’s armor, receiving the same in return from her wife. Sitting her wife down in the chair, she redid her braids, ensuring they were perfect, wanting her beautiful Heda to ride into battle loved and protected. After finishing the braids, she sat as Lexa did the same for her, these braids holding her shorter hair to her scalp to allow what her wife referred to as her ‘frenzied’ movements in battle.

Trading places again, she began to apply Lexa’s war paint. She loved Lexa’s design, despite Anya’s teasing remarks about her resemblance to a raccoon. After finishing with the exact lines using a brush, she switched to fingertips, gently stroking over her wife’s features, trying to infuse her skin with the adoration for the amazing gift before her.

Sitting to receive her own paint, she stared at herself in the mirror. Yes, Wanheda was in there, but so was Clarke. Both of them needed the situations resolved, and this was a solution that both could get behind. Neither cared for senseless destruction, but if deaths were the price to pay to resolve this, it would be paid. Justice far more than petty revenge suited Wanheda. The death of an opponent tainted with guilt was best of all. It was a mercy, to the people, to the world around them, to rid them of the wicked, the guilty, the pariah, those that would kill the innocent. While the warriors sent to kill the 100 were honorable, their mission was not. The mountain could boats neither, and their fate was sealed with the finality of every soul perishing. Today, she would face her former people, destroy her former teacher, her former friend, even her former mother. The only thing she took comfort in was their overwhelming guilt, and the fact that Raven and others would be freed from the tyranny. Well, she’d take some pleasure in Bellamy finally facing consequences. She briefly wondered if this would help or hurt the cause of snapping Octavia out of her useless and misdirected anger.

Glancing up, seeing the intricate lines that Lexa had added to the usual claw marks, the mix of the new blue and the normal black, she smiled at her wife. They weren’t just wearing the paint for it’s own sake after all, and it called for the full version if lives were to be consumed today in the Flame of Heda and the Light of Wanheda. Reaching for the jar of glue, she gathered her wife’s symbol, lying on the cushion of a jewelry box. Lexa had many version of the cog wheel she wore, and today it would be the most intricate. The shape itself remain the same, but inlaid in the metal were tiny pieces of a deep red ruby, causing the gold metal to appear to be on fire. Painting a small amount onto Lexa’s forehead, she delicately took Lexa’s crown, for that is what it was, and placed it just so upon her brow. Judging it with an artist’s eye, she ensured that it’s placement was perfect, just like everything Lexa deserved in life. Stroking Lexa’s cheek, she leaned forward and chastely kissed her wife’s lips.

After trading places, Lexa reached into a pouch on her belt, explaining “The jeweler did not think she would have this done in time. Indeed, it was not yet ready when you left Polis. Leaving a day later, she was able to get this to me as I was mounting up to leave. I know that you have other versions, more plain ones made of colored metal, but you, and Wanheda, deserve the effort and respect that this will show in it’s craftsmanship.”

Pulling her hand from the pouch, she produced a similar jewelry box, this one blue instead of the red of Lexa’s. Opening it, Clarke caught sight of what lay inside. Breath catching as the candlelight reflected off it’s contents, she looked back to Lexa, blue appreciation meeting green adoration. Lexa reached inside, taking the forehead medallion in her hand, before placing it on Clarke’s fingers for her to examine.

The most breathtakingly deep blue sapphire shone in her hand. Unlike Lexa’s symbol, cast in gold and inlaid with jewels, the new version of Wanheda’s symbol had no metal, and was made out of one intricately cut sapphire, precisely shaped into an eight-sided star. The facets allowed the light to reflect, adding to it’s beauty, but Clarke appreciated the simplicity of her symbol, the irony of a star for the sky girl not lost on her.

Handing it back to Lexa, the brush of blue was applied to her forehead, and Lexa leaned forward to get the placement of Clarke’s symbol, her crown, just so. Leaning back, pleased it was both pointed properly and centered in it’s place, Lexa returned Clarke’s gesture, gently kissing her wife’s lips.

Standing, Clarke was prepared to move to their weapons rack to start that process, Lexa gripped her upper arm. Smiling again at Clarke, she moved to a small pile of cloth set to the side, moving it to reveal another gift, or several by the looks of it. Clarke had always favored two shorter swords, allowing her to use both hands in combat. She was fully capable of using other weapons though, and it appeared that Lexa had taken all of this into account. In Lexa’s hands were three sheathed weapons, obviously designed to be worn together. The two short sword sheaths crossed one another, the leather at the intersect as flattened as possible to allow them to lay as close to one another as possible. Indeed, it appeared that the same was done with the third weapon, a long sword sheathed to allow the handle to rest right behind her head, with the short sword handles at her shoulders. It appeared that the same smith had made all three, and the same leatherworker had made the sheaths. The handles were well made, wire-wrapped instead of leather. She knew these handles would be tougher, more durable, and that the textured woven wire used would still allow a sure grip, even if the handle was wet. Reaching for a short sword, Lexa nodded and she drew the blade. Staring at the handle and cross-guard, she was reminded of the sword that Lexa had lost, and since replaced, while they had hidden from the pauna. A kind of high-tech samurai style, borrowing from both the Asian influence visible in the shape of the blade and the clearly advanced style of the blade. These matched that aesthetic, with the blades sporting engravings of stars and constellations, just as her back tattoo did. Smiling at Lexa, she re-sheathed it, now reaching for the long sword. It matched the style and pattern of the short swords, but she noticed something odd, a switch or button on the handle. It wasn’t obvious, and she doubted she’d hit it accidentally, but she looked at her wife with curiosity rather then pressing it.

Grinning, Lexa decided to share the secret “When I went to the smith to have them made for you, he mentioned seeing you practice a few days prior. He said that he’d seen Azgeda do something similar, but never with that level of grace and speed, not to mention deadliness. He told me that you’d ripped apart half a dozen training dummies, removing limbs and heads before moving to the next. He decided that day to design you something, so that you might use the weapon more often. It took time, and the short swords were done within weeks, while the main weapon here took almost three months. He had to ensure that the mechanics worked properly, wouldn’t jam, and that it had the range needed to achieve what he saw that day.”

Halfway through the explanation, Clarke knew exactly the day her wife meant. While she’d learned several weapons, only swords and one other had allowed her the feeling of dancing while wielding them. Grinning at her wife, stepping back a few paces, she pressed the button and wasn’t disappointed, far from it. The look of glee on her face would be terrifying to anyone else, but Lexa adored it.

The blade, previously a full forty inches of solid, high carbon steel, segmented and separated before her eyes. Each two piece section was joined by flat woven wire running through a center tube of the piece, the final length of wire running into the handle. Allowing it to spread to it’s full length, Clarke was amazed at how long the smith had managed to make it, as the full fifteen feet of razor whip shined before her. Testing it’s flexibility by waving it a few inches back and forth, she was impressed with it. Of course it wouldn’t be quite as flexible as tiny chain links, but that was the whole point of this weapon. It could be a long sword or the whip, whichever she needed, without adding another weapon to her already full list.

Pressing the button again, she watched as the flat braided wire drew back into the handle, realizing that it’s length must’ve been to allow one or more spools equipped with a spring winding system to sit inside it. The reason for the flat wire was revealed, as the segments lined up perfectly straight while retracting, slotting into one another so tightly that she couldn’t see the seam from a few feet away. As it finished retracting, she used her fingertip to barely test the edge of the blade, satisfied that it was sharp. Looking closer, she noticed that the blade wasn’t perfectly flat, but appeared to have slight serrations near the seams to each segment. That would make removing limbs at the joints easier, she supposed.

Moving back to Lexa and sheathing the sword, she felt bad for having not gotten Lexa a gift. Seeing the almost pout on Clarke’s face brought another grin to Lexa, and she leaned in and whispered “Seeing you perform your deadly dance for me will be gift enough hodness. Also seeing you return from battle alive and unharmed, knowing that you are as protected as I can make you, is all the thanks I need. As you are often fond of saying to me, your soul shall remain right where it is, Wanheda”. Briefly kissing Clarke, she nudged her to turn around, securing the harness of weapons properly. She also grabbed a few replacement and additional pieces for Clarke’s armor, to allow her to use the whip without dismembering herself, including protection for her joints. Once finished, they moved to gather the rest of their weapons, knowing that their time was short.

Clarke, seeing Lexa about to sheath the sword on her back, moved to help for the thousandth time. The scabbard had been designed to just barely work with the length of the sword and Lexa’s reach, but in one battle, the opening for the blade had taken a hit, slightly narrowing it. As a result, Lexa had trouble re-sheathing it, and Clarke had helped so many times she’d lost count. Grinning at each other, Clarke did so again, the sword sliding home with no issues. Ensuring that daggers were affixed to both of their waists, Lexa thought to herself that of course fixing the scabbard would solve the problem, but why bother? Clarke doesn’t mind, and she enjoyed the gesture.

Striding from the tent, they took in the activity of the camp as the warriors equipped themselves and checked one another to ensure that armor and weapons were affixed and laying properly. As they emerged, activity and sound paused as the warriors took in their leaders in their full regalia. As they moved towards the area housing the horses, the warriors in their path bowing their heads, they met Indra, adorned in her own armor. In her own braids, Indra wore a series of intricately carved wooden pieces shaped like small branches, denoting her as the head of the Trikru can.

Taking the reins of their horses, Clarke, Lexa, Indra and a dozen warriors mounted up for the fifteen minute ride to Camp Jaha. Moving out onto the path, Clarke knew that by now her message would have reached the warriors at the tiny camp in the clearing. Using bird calls to relay the orders, they’d be packing it up in preparation of their arrival. Keeping a steady but unhurried pace, Clarke passed the time by observing the forest around them, trying to gage wind and weather and decide if they were favorable for what was to come.

The group formed up before passing the last bend, and Camp Jaha came into view a moment later. From what she could see from this distance, Indra’s report was accurate. There were no increased patrols, no frenzied activity, and from what she could see, it was likely that the warriors preparing to leave had lulled the Arkers into a false sense of security. All the better.

Nodding to the warriors as they deferentially gazed at the group riding passed them, she refocused her gaze on the gates they were approaching. Indra had also been right about the guards on duty, apparently Octavia and Lincoln were no longer to be trusted with the duty. Slowing as she approached, her gaze met the guard’s posted there, a middle-aged man with a sneer likely permanently twisting his features. Probably one of Pike’s goons since surely Kane would’ve knocked some sense into him by now otherwise.

With her party all behind her, sitting straight and regally in her saddle, she let the authority she commanded shine through. The deep timbre of her voice carried over the camp as she spoke, “I am here to address your council. Relay to them that they are needed at the gates immediately”.

The guard eyed her for a moment more, attempting some childish display at defiance that they both knew would fail, as if she could be cowered like a child, he pulled his radio from his belt and relayed the message. As the people moving about their day began to gather at yet another break to the tedium, several were pushed aside with various degrees of impatience or arrogance, as the council made its way to the fence. First Kane, then Sinclair, one by one they appeared. Next was a scowling and smug looking Bellamy, followed by Pike and Abby arriving together. Moving to the front of the crowd but staying back from the council were Lincoln and Octavia. The usual petulant anger in her gaze was present, at least until she caught sight of Indra in all her glory, at which point an audible gulp was heard. Lincoln appeared mostly passive, but to those who knew him well, the look of adoration briefly shown in his eyes as he gazed at his Heda, replaced by hope as his eyes flicked to Wanheda.

As the counselors took in the group just outside the gates, seeing them loaded with weapons and wearing everything denoting their station, the feeling of things coming to a head was felt by all. Not waiting for any of the ignorant fools to open their mouths and prove their stupidity, Clarke addressed them.

“Abby kom Skaikru, for crimes against your own people and therefore against the Kongeda, you will surrender yourself, Charles Pike, and Bellamy Blake to us immediately. Marcus Kane and Jacapo Sinclair will be allowed to remain, pending the conclusion of the investigation into the chancellor and the council. Failure to surrender yourselves to us will be met with the use of any force necessary. Should your guards or your people attempt to resist this action, their capture or deaths shall be on your heads. What say you?”

As the council stood stunned, it didn’t take long for the shock to wear off. First was Abby’s braying like a hyena in outrage. Bellamy had gone was white as a sheet, and Pike looked ready to kill. When Abby’s screeching came to a momentary pause after declaring that the Arkers didn’t give a shit about grounder laws since they weren’t grounders, Clarke decided to respond.

“But you are, you and every person in this camp is subject to the laws of the Kongeda. I’m sure that Lincoln kom Trikru would’ve tried to explain this at several points. But, as usual, you didn’t bother to listen, did you? No, you’re right and everyone else is wrong. Your arrogance is again your undoing. Every person inhabiting lands of the Kongeda is subject to it’s laws, whether officially a part of it or not. There is no treaty between the Kongeda, or even the Trikru, and your camp. No non-aggression pact, no establishment of trade or diplomatic relations, and certainly no exemption that allows you here without the Trikru’s permission. And so we left you to your own devices, to thrive or perish on your own, and we have sat back and watched. And what have you achieved in that time? Nothing. Less than nothing, judging by the graves I’ve seen. No, your time ruling these people is over. If you are guilty of your crimes, your time breathing the same air as the people you have crushed under your boots is over as well. Now, will you surrender or are we going to take you by force?”

“Clarke, you’re out of your fucking mind! We’ve done everything to try to survive and after all we’ve been through, this is how you repay me? You fucking bitch I should’ve let Murphy show you his sick fantasies princess! Fuck you!” Bellamy screamed.

Clarke’s eyes, never leaving Abby’s face, waited for the answer despite Bellamy’s signing of his own death warrant. Abby, her mouth hanging open with no sound coming out, took almost a full minute to collect herself, finally having an inkling of how much she’d fucked their people sideways.

“Clarke, we can talk about this honey. I know things are bad, but we can get through them, together. Let’s just talk.”

Clarke fought the laugh that was trying to work it’s way out from her throat, really she did. When it finally erupted, it was a vicious and cruel sound, dark, cold, and bereft of the amusement the gesture should carry.

Her eyes, that’s what really conveyed the menace that was beginning to leak from Clarke. Kane could see it, see how the love, the warmth, the compassion that was usually there, even if only slightly as when she rode up and demanded their surrender, that warmth had now leaked away. Gone was the Clarke they knew, and it was Wanheda looking at Abby.

“Did you realize, Abigail, that you said those exact words after you had Jake executed to increase your status on the council? You thought people wouldn’t know, a junior counselor suddenly in Jaha’s inner circle, promoted to head of Medical? And now what, you’d make a tool of me to help you at the expense of the people, just as you always do?” With a coldly amused look on her face and a shake of her head, she dismissed Abby and turned to Kane.

“Marcus kom Skaikru, when we return, if the Skai natrona are not surrendered, we will take them by force. You have one hour.”

Spinning on her horse, she rode away, the rest of her party on her heels. During the discussions, the warrior of the small camp had finished packing and vacated the area.

As they reached the trees and passed the first bend, now out of sight of camp Jaha, Clarke came to a halt. Turning to Indra and Lexa, she waited for their opinions. Deferring to Lexa, Indra waited her turn.

“Abby kom Skaikru appears completely unstable, unbalanced, and if what you said about her words to you matching those she used when your father was executed, she has woefully misjudged who she is dealing with. Pike also appeared to take news of their pending arrest as a personal affront, as if the goufa had told that gona that it is bedtime. As for Bellomy, well, the forest is hungry, and I’m sure the trees will enjoy his blood.”

Nodding, Indra added “I agree, and I do not believe that Octavia or Lincoln would aid them in any fighting. Marcus kom Skaikru as well has too much honor to defend those on the council.” Spitting on the ground as she spat the word council, Lexa and Clarke weren’t deaf and would be sure to rib her mercilessly for the warmth in her voice as she discussed Marcus.

“Indra, give the warriors the signal. In fifteen minutes we’ll get their answer” Clarke said, clearly not stupid enough to allow them to prepare beyond that.

As the horn sounded two long and two short bursts, the group checked themselves and each other over once again. After finishing, Clarke fished more of her traveling food from her saddle and shared some with Lexa. An army traveled on it’s stomach after all.

Looking to Lexa as she finished, Clarke spoke “I know you hate this part of the plan, but I’m returning to the gate alone. I know you don’t agree, but the likelihood of being shot goes down significantly if I”m alone. Trust me Leksa.”

Knowing her wife was right didn’t mean she had to like it. Reluctantly nodding, they all readied themselves, the fifteen minutes almost up. Just before the time ended, another forty warriors approached from the direction of Polis, the rest of their detachment. Nodding to them, Clarke knew this was it, that they were ready to finally bring this sorry situation to an end.

Turning as one, they aimed their horses back towards Camp Jaha. As they began their ride, she looked to Lexa again, seeing the love and encouragement she was always met with in her gaze. Putting her game face on, she turned to Indra and the warriors, seeing them all in tight formation. As they cleared the treeline, she put away her emotions, prepared for what would happen.

About fifty feet into the open clearing, Lexa did the second most difficult thing in her life, second to only her leaving the mountain… she slowed her horse to a stop, the rest of their party behind her, and let Clarke continue on alone. Every part of Lexa, the woman, the wife, even the Flame within her, was terrified of losing Clarke and of losing the Light of Wanheda. If her love were a physical thing, she hoped Clarke felt the warmth of it as she continued towards the gates. Lexa felt something else hit her as Clarke rode, stoic and regal. She felt the overwhelming pride of seeing Clarke truly having come into her own. From the moment she’d laid eyes on Clarke, she knew that she’d be an amazing leader, that she was a great one even then. But seeing her now, about to confront the woman that bore her and the evil that had been perpetuated on her people, she knew that Wanheda could not have chosen better than this marvel of a woman.

Riding steadily to the gate, Clarke could see that the council had remained, and appeared to be arguing viciously amongst themselves. She could make out Kane pleading that if they had committed no crimes, surely allowing Lexa and Clarke to investigate would hurt nothing, and could in fact serve to open relations between the two people. ‘Oh Marcus, always seeing the good path. Why couldn’t you have been like this on the Ark? We could’ve used you. Knowing Jaha, you’d have been floated before you could blink though.’

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she caught the tail end of the reaction to Marcus’ suggestion, the cold fury from Abby and the near hysteria from Pike. Bellamy looked like a cornered animal, but what else was new. He’d never had to face the music for the shit he’d pulled. She knew she was partially to blame, always hoping that just one more chance would change him for the better. Today the chances were up.

She could see the hastily alerted guards, about thirty or so in positions around the fences. She supposed that fit with the reports, that if they fielded everyone they could, it’d be about sixty guards total. She liked those odds.

Coming to a stop and scaring the shit out of those not paying attention, her voice that of the ruler of men, she firmly demanded, “What have you decided? Bloodshed or no?”

Abby, deciding that she’d had enough of this defiance and knowing that the cold harsh truth would rock Clarke to her core, approached the fence.

“You know, I always knew you’d be trouble. When you were born, I was ready to let an injection or a pillow over your head solve the problem. Can you imagine the sympathy I’d have gotten? The tragic loss of a Counselor’s child, the second in command of Medical no less. But, there was your father, looking at you as if he was holding the sun in his arms. He talked me out of it. It was nothing so sentimental as thinking of his feelings no. He convinced me that maybe, if we put you two together enough when you were older, you’d end up with Wells and secure our place at the top levels of power. I should’ve known that you’d fuck up even that. And look at you now, playing the part of grounder princess, letting them worship you, and for what? Letting their child empress bend you over, selling your barren womb to someone who couldn’t give you a child to begin with.”

Not responding, Clarke allowed Abby to continue, Wanheda swelling within her, so so eager, “And then there was Jake, always too smart and too sentimental for his own good. It was supposed to be Sinclair that discovered the air problem. Jacapo was always a simpering sycophant. A malfunction? Please. When Jaha came to me, telling me about the Exodus charter, the power it allowed the council, power we’d never have, I agreed in an instant. Of course we’d have to find a way to make the Ark unlivable. What better way than the air? Water and food, those systems were too easily fixed, but air filtration, that was the key. I never understood why Jake didn’t see it for the sabotage it was. Maybe he couldn’t fathom the motive. Either way, once he started talking about a way to fix it, a way that might work, he had to go. Of course by turning him in myself, it helped me. Then, always where you weren’t wanted, had to turn up and overhear the truth. Having you put in solitary got you out of my hair though.”

“You see, I’d done some truly groundbreaking work in Medical. Do you know how much easier it is to experiment when you’re the one certifying cause of death or doing the autopsy? I had to find some way to keep going, finding ways to increase our resistance to radiation. It’s not like I could keep hiding the tests with more vaccinations for you. I never understood how you didn’t catch on, once you saw how little vaccinations we gave the other kids. I must’ve given you a shot every other week. But look at you now, thriving down here. They obviously didn’t hurt you, and after you went to the Skybox, I could start up again. What a great testing group the 100 made, as if we needed to see all of your vitals in that detail to know you were surviving.”

“Then what do you do? You find people living here, befriend them, and piss off Mt Weather. Doctor Singh and I were about to make a deal that would’ve freed our people, did you know that? We were so alike, and our people could’ve integrated so easily, but there you were, fucking up even that. Do you know many of my plans, how much of my life you’ve ruined? To think that you were my legacy. I shouldn’t have let Jake pry that hanger out of my hand. I could’ve just shoved it inside and ended you before you became some degenerate dyke grounder pounder.”

Pike, not having known half of this shit, realized that he and Abby could’ve worked together all this time. He also knew that antagonizing the girl queen was the exact wrong fucking way to go. Judging by the look on queen bitch’s face, they were all fucked.

Kane, well, to say he was horrified was the biggest undersell of the fucking millennium. He’d known nothing about Jaha’s actions, the sabotage, or what kind of monster had been in their midst this whole time. Human experimentation, on her daughter no less. Spirits, why had any of them ever thought that they were more civilized than the Coalition? Turning to Sinclair, he saw the decision in the man’s eyes as surely as if they were of one mind. Nodding, he was about to voice their votes that the three should be surrendered, but he was cut off by Clarke.

“Thank you for the confession, Chancellor. I’m sure that your habit of using unsuspecting people as guinea pigs only continued once you returned from the mountain. As there are only two seemingly decent people on the council, it looks like you’ll be taking the hard way. Very well.”

Turning to ride away, he was about to shout at her, beg her to spare the innocent, when a shot rang out. Seeing a spray of blood shoot out from Clarke’s body, he turned horrified looking for the shooter. Still holding a smoking rifle pointed at Clarke, the would-be assassin didn’t try hiding his identity this time. Kane also knew that no convenient dropship would get him to safety. No, this time Bellamy Blake was well and truly fucked.

Turning her head back to address the Arkers, Clarke coldly said “Any of the innocent and the children should take shelter in the Ark. Anyone remaining outside will be killed with no hesitation.”

With that, she rode off as if the bullet had been an irritation, a minor one at that.

Hearing the shot ring out and seeing Clarke’s blood leave her body in slow motion, Lexa knew with every fiber of her being that the gloves were off. Not hesitating for a moment, she turned her horse sideways so that she could face the woods.

In a voice louder and with more fury than Indra had ever heard from her, Heda bellowed only two words.

“KOM WOR!!!!”

A half moment later, in every direction around the camp, gona stepped out of the trees. And they kept stepping out. One after another, after another, almost two thousand gona appeared from nowhere and started marching forward with the beat of war drums driving them.

Looking back towards her beloved, she could see Clarke, sitting straight on her horse, having began moving back towards Lexa at a trot. Lexa knew the range of the fayagons, especially the rifles, and Clarke was not out of danger yet, but she didn’t hurry, didn’t ride as if she were still in someone’s crosshairs. Lexa was terrified, and fuck if she wasn’t proud of her wife’s bravery.

As Clarke approached, Lexa observed her. The bullet appeared to have passed through the meat of her very upper arm, and her blood was still trickling from the site, though not nearly as it would have if Clarke had been shot two years ago.

Knowing that there would be some explaining to do with Indra later, she didn’t worry herself over the fact that Clarke’s modified nightblood was on display, instead moving to her wife’s side to gauge her condition.

“Before you ask, I’m fine. It didn’t hit the bone, and the skin and muscle are already healing.”

“Heda-”

“Later Indra, all is as it should be. Clarke, are you sure? There are many healers nearby.”

“I’ll be fine my love. Nothing but death will take me from this battle, and Wanheda likes my spirit where it is too.” smiling at Lexa, hoping to relieve some of her tension. She reached into her saddlebag and removed a small bandage, applying it quickly.

The warriors had moved two hundred feet from the treeline and all stopped at the ordered distance. Clarke could also see the surprise that the front two lines carried on their backs. Clarke wasn’t a genius, well, she wasn’t Raven, but she had a good eye for strategy, and she understood a few things about her former people. As the guards scrambled to aim at the line of warriors, they did as they were trained.

The front line of warriors unslung the huge shields on their back before kneeling on the dirt and planting the bottoms of the shields in the ground. The second line also unslung the shields, fitting the straight flat bottom edge of their shields to the grooved top of the other shields. This resulted in a wall, a shield wall, about eight high, covering the entire line of the grounder army.

The only exception to this were the Rock Line morons. Clarke could see them off to the left, all hundred of them, with no one else stupid enough to be near them. They’d been given the shields, they’d been trained in their use. She knew what Kern thought of her, and she knew damned well what she thought of him. Her patience was about to pay off. With no evidence and no witnesses, she’d had little choice but to wait or become a dictator, crushing people below her boot without evidence. Here was the solution, given to her by Kern and his men themselves. She’d been so glad when the Rock Line’s chief had agreed to send him and his company, just the men that needed death’s embrace.

As the Arkers got their shit together, kind of, they began taking shots. At that range, roughly 1,200 feet, they were well within the rifle’s range, but as expected, the Arkers were focused on the shields. Psychology 101, give someone a target and they’d try to prove they could hit it. In this case, tell a man that you’ve made bulletproof shields, and he’ll do nothing else but try to shoot them. Oh there were exceptions, as Kern’s men were finding out. In the opening volley of the Arkers, she’d seen ten of his men hit. After that, they’d broken formation, as soldiers with poor discipline always did, and were now charging the fence. Clarke continued to wait, wanting one situation solved before she dealt with the other. She wasn’t disappointed.

Seeing the charging grounders, the guards focused fire on where it might do something, the unshielded morons. Said morons, rather than stepping behind the shields of their neighbors, decided that running a quarter mile under automatic rifle fire was a great idea. Clarke wondered, as Wanheda swelled within her at the sight of the guilty getting their just rewards, if Kern and his men still thought it was a good idea, as the twenty-two men still alive, including Kern, reached the fence. She doubted it, as it seemed that they’d forgotten the briefings about the fence and rather foolishly decided that either swords or climbing it was the key. The smoke was impressive though, as all twenty-two received somewhere around 100,000 volts.

Now, as anyone familiar with electricity will tell you, there are two kinds. To put it plainly, there’s the kind of electricity that knocks you on your ass. This was not that kind apparently,as Kern discovered. Anyone who thought to let go, to step back, to simply collapse, found their muscles frozen as the electricity caused them to clamp down, contract, and hold them in place. Luckily for the gona, that much of a charge will kill you fairly soon. Unfortunately for them, it only stopped the hearts of three. The other nineteen were left to cook, and cook they did. The smoke was impressive, as over the course of the next twenty seconds they alternately caught fire and burned to a charred crisp.

As the Arkers turned their rifles back on the wall, she knew some genius would be trying to take shots at her group, which is why she, Lexa, Indra, and the rest of the fifty had moved behind the shields and ducked down. Being mounted had, after all, put them above the height of the shields.

Having reached the conclusion of one issue, she decided to move on with the other. Nodding at the horn carrier, she indicated for him to give the next signal. He placed the lower tone horn to his lips and blew four short blasts. After he finished, hundreds of the gona behind the walls unslung their bows and knocked arrows. After exactly fifteen seconds had passed from the end of the signal, they released their arrows at the camp, arcing them over the shields in front of them.

Leaning back up for a moment, Lexa and Indra doing the same, she observed the arrows in the sky and could clearly hear the terrified screams from Camp Jaha. Those screams ended as the arrows obeyed gravity and returned to Earth. Eying the wall, Clarke estimated they’d taken roughly twenty of the sixty guards with that volley, and she waited for confirmation from the spotters who used rudimentary spy glasses.

When the arm signals came, she was impressed. They’d taken out twenty two guards and several others with guns who were being flung out the front of the Ark to shore up the defenses. Nodding again at the horn signaler, he again signaled, this time with five short blasts. Rather than the gonas behind the shields loading more arrows, to the outside observer, nothing was happening. As fifteen seconds was reached, however, Clarke’s second surprise was revealed.

From the trees, over twice the number of arrows as the first barrage were loosed. From that elevated position, they had no trouble seeing the guards in the towers. Unfortunately, distance was an even bigger issue at that range, with some arrows falling short. Still, it was worth the effort as the number was again relayed. Another ten guards were down. If they’d had sixty-five, which was one of the estimates they’d had, about half were now down. From here, she decided that she’d see how foolish the guards truly were.

She knew from her spy reports that no one was going out to gather materials, whether it be wood, or anything else. They also hadn’t been scavenging any bunkers or caches. As a result, their supply of ammunition had been decreasing with each pull of the trigger for the past two years. Now, all that’s well and good, but if you didn’t know how many bullets they had to begin with, the information was pretty useless. Thanks to a certain Trikru who was allowed out to hunt, she knew that each guard would be given ten bullets for their rifle and twenty for their handgun. The guards just needed to be encouraged to shoot back and have no chance of doing damage. The barrage of arrows, twice now, should do it.

As expected, the rain of bullets started up immediately once they knew no more arrows were headed their way. Already there were guards cursing, looking at their rifles, and dropping them from the wall only to draw their sidearms and wait. She kept waiting, sure that the rest would be just as dumb.

After about five minutes, the firing stopped. Nodding one last time, another volley was sent, this time scoring three kills. If all the information was accurate, there were thirty guards left, armed with handguns they didn’t often use, to defend against almost two thousand warriors.

She turned to Lexa, seeing anticipation there, to Indra seeing resolve and respect, the plan going better than Indra had hoped, but she did keep underestimating Wanheda, pleasantly so. Clarke turned back to the horn signaler, “Sound the advance.” Two short horn blasts later, and the shields were lifted, carried in front of the warriors as they began to move forward as one. The two lines of shields began shifting back and forth, allowing the third line, the archers, to take shots at the remaining guards. It wasn’t perfect, but they managed to take down another five.

As they neared the fence, warriors carrying hooks and a length of wire ran from the trees. Two of them were killed as guards broke cover to use their sidearms, being cut down by the archers a moment later. The remaining warriors, raced to the fence and threw the hooks. They snagged them on the wires, allowing the electricity to be conducted back through the wires they’d strung to the spikes planted in the trucks of trees. The resulting short circuit caused the lights all around the camp to dim, and the electrical hum of the fence, giving a few last gasps, ceased.

At the same time, fifty mounted warriors raced along the path to the gates. Similarly hooking chains to it, with the other ends secured to their saddles, they turned and begin to encourage the horses to pull. As before, more shots were taken at them, and five warriors had their fights ended. The gates were torn free of their hinges, crashing down on the path to the camp. It was at this point that Pike truly lost his shit.

Racing towards his target, the one thing he could think of that might save his ass, he didn’t hesitate kicking in the door to the small shack. As Lincoln prepared himself for a fight, he saw Pike pull the gun from behind his back. He tried to dodge what he knew was coming, and it was that attempt that saved his life. As Pike put a bullet into Lincoln, it entered into his side, the moving target having thrown off the shot aimed at his heart. Unfortunately, being shot at point blank range also caused Lincoln to lose consciousness.

Having eliminated one target, Pike turned the gun on Octavia. “Drop the sword bitch, or the next shot goes between his eyes”. Seeing the gun aimed at the man she loves, Octavia did as she was told, dropping the sword near where Lincoln was laying. “Drop the dagger on your waist and get over here.” he said, motioning with the gun. Again she did so, and he grabbed her and turned her around, wrapping an arm around her neck and holding the gun to her head.

Abby was a mix of furious and terrified. She’d tried to get into the Ark, but Kane and informed her from behind a lock door that it would not be happening. It seemed the righteous prick had taken the children and other unarmed civilians and barricaded themselves inside. She’d just have to reason with her demon spawn, she supposed. Heading back towards the gates, she turned a corner near the latrines and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Grounders flooded into the camp, with Lexa, Clarke, and Indra taking the lead. Lexa had drawn her sword and was a whirling dervish, slicing down the remaining guards like poetry in motion. Clarke split off, going in search of her mother so that they could end this.

Spotting her in the distance, being held at gunpoint, she made her way closer. She couldn’t make out the identity of the guard, not in shadow from behind, but the silhouette looked familiar. As her brain finally made the connection, she heard Bellamy finish “You’re my ticket to freedom. Killing you means she’ll spare me.” It was then that he pulled the trigger, shooting her twice.

Pulling her long sword from its sheath and triggering it in the same motion, the blade extended on the downward arc, reaching full length just before it wrapped around Bellamy’s arm at the elbow. As he screamed in pain, she gave it a tug, his forearm and hand, gun included, coming away from his body surprisingly easily. She’d have to thank Lexa again for such an amazing gift.

Bellamy, now missing an arm and whimpering in pain, tried to stem the blood loss. Not wanting him to take the cowards’ way out, she shouted to a nearby warrior “You! Get him to a fisa, ensure he does not bleed to death. He has a date with a thousand blades and Death will not be cheated the suffering due.” As the gona quickly wrapped the stump tightly, he bodily lifted Bellamy off the ground and dragged him off for medical attention.

Clarke walked over to where Abby lay, in the ditch of a latrine of all places. With no panic, or shock, or sadness on her face, she leaned over her former mother, watching as Abby gasped for breath.

“You die as you lived, a piece of filth. You ruined everything you touched, and what you couldn’t ruin you killed. But don’t worry, Death is just the beginning.” Smiling down at her, she reached forward and placed a hand on her sternum. Looking into Abby’s eyes, she saw the panic, the disbelief that this, laying in shit, was how it would end. All her plans, all her work, and this was it. Feeling a strange sensation in her chest, she tried to look down, but her body didn’t want to obey. As she stared into Clarke’s eyes, she understood what Lincoln had meant, finally. This wasn’t her daughter staring back at her, this was something else, something ancient, something beyond this life, and it was not the least bit moved by Abby having borne Clarke. Staring into the burning hot blue eyes, Abby felt herself wrenched free of her body, her vision ending as abruptly as her thoughts.

As Wanheda straightened, smiling her cold, satisfied smile, she went off in search of her next priority, Charles Pike.

Pushing Octavia in front of him, Pike turned a corner and stopped instantly before tightening his grip on the girl and the gun and loudly shouting “I’ll kill her, I swear it! Let me leave the camp with a horse and I’ll let her live!”

As Lexa, Indra, and several warriors slowly approached him, he again tightened his hold. “What are you doing, I’ll kill her! Don’t you get it? What are you, twenty-five?! Pretending to be some mystical figure to these people doesn’t mean you’re anything but a girl that has no idea how to be in charge, now let me go!”

Seeing movement behind Pike but not daring to look in that direction, she knows what she has to do. Spirits is Clarke going to be pissed. Sighing, she did it anyway.

Stepping closer again, “We can talk about this Pike. You do not want to hurt Octavia. You know that the only way forward is to release her and drop the gun.” When he didn’t take the bait, she stepped forward again. And again. Now about eight feet from him, she was concerned for a moment, until she saw what she expected. Until he swung the weapon from Octavia’s temple to point it square at her chest. Then she saw what she hadn’t expected, the bright flash of the muzzle as he squeezed the trigger.

As light and sound exploded in front of her, she felt the pain blossoming at the very center of her chest. It was at that moment that she knew that Clarke’s fury would be justified.

Chapter Text

Lexa saw the look of triumph on Pike’s face after he pulled the trigger. That look quickly moved to one of confusion as Lexa, having let out a small grunt of pain initially, did not fall. Seeing movement behind him, she knew that Death, quite literally, was coming for him.

As Clarke stepped up behind him, dagger in hand, Lexa watched that look change again, to one of terror and pain as Clarke’s dagger slid into his skin under his left ear. Drawing the blade down and around, she’d slit his throat from ear to ear in an instant.

As the pain registered, Pike tried to bring the gun back towards her, but Clarke had batted it away as an annoyance, breaking several fingers in the process. As he tried to collapse, Clarke held him up by the back of his neck one-handed. Whispering into his ear, knowing that his brain would continue to function for a little while longer without oxygen, “I know who you’ve been talking to Pike. I only hope you were stupid enough not to burn the letters.” Catching the look on his face, she knew he hadn’t.

Taking the opportunity now that the threat was over, Lexa looked down her body and saw something she’d never seen before.

There, in the center of one of the strategically placed pieces of metal reinforcing her armor, reinforcements that Clarke had insisted upon, was a chunk of metal, a bullet, she supposed. She made a mental note to thank her hodness for her protectiveness once the battle was over.

Hearing the sound of liquid, she looked up and identified two sources, the neck of Charles Pike, and apparently the bladder of Octavia Blake. Yes, as she watched, a puddle formed between the legs of the terrified Octavia. Walking up to her, Indra glances down and, humming, says “Well, I see that we will need to work on your nerves, after Wanheda has corrected your attitude and reminded you of respect. Where is Lincoln?”

Two two wandered off, quickly directing a fisa to follow. Walking over to Clarke and the now dead Pike, Lexa stepped to the side to avoid the body when Clarke discarded him a few feet away.

“So, Commander. Tell me again how the new armor slows you down and couldn’t possibly make up for it with added protection. I want to hear it again. Go on. Oh wait, I can hear it now” Clarke cleared her throat and pitched her voice slightly higher “but Clarke, my hodness, if I am slower, I cannot dodge as well and shall then need even stronger armor, getting hit more often”.

Eyeing her wife, Lexa replied deadpan and in Gonasleng “Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke”. At this, Clarke grinned and kissed her wife, instantly reminded of all the times she’d heard the phrase in the past.

Turning, she took Lexa by the hand, much to the Commander’s amusement, and walked towards the entrance to the Ark. Finding it locked somehow, she used the handle of her bloody dagger to pound on the doors.

“I told you, you’re not getting in here!” Kane yelled from behind the doors.

“Kane, it’s Clarke. Open the door, now.” She was so done with today. A hot bath, her wife in her arms, maybe some healing salve if it bruised. Food. Steamy tub sex….

The door slid open, interrupting Clarke’s thoughts, Kane standing with a gun in hand to greet her. Seeing it was indeed Clarke and the Commander, he wisely chose to toss the gun in front of him and lift his hands in the air.

“Congratulations. Marcus Kane, you are hereby given the title of Chancellor of the Skaikru. Please inform what remains of your people that they are to wait indoors until the final hostiles are dealt with. We will then call all of you outside and ensure no additional forces are in hiding within the Ark. Now, escort me to Pike’s quarters, there are things I need to see.”

Taken aback for a moment, he quickly moved to comply, reminding himself that while this was the teen he’d seen wandering the Ark with Wells, or helping people in Medical, she had grown well beyond that by now. As they walked, he had to ask.

“Is Abby dead?” Seeing her nod, not elaborating, “And Pike? Bellamy?”

“Pike died trying to kill Lexa. Bellamy lost an arm trying to kill my mother, whom I killed myself. After Pike’s quarters, we’ll visit my mother’s, and after that, any offices they both kept, including her’s in Medical. The rest of the day will be spent determining what happened here, what if any motive Pike had, determining guilt for others, and working out a plan for the people going forward. Know this, before Lexa and I leave here, this place gets a new name. I’m not saying that bastard’s name ever again if I can help it. After she and I leave, any trade deals with other krus will be up to you. Winter is coming, and the living aren’t just hungry, they’re cold too.”

Reaching Pike’s quarters, Kane unlocked the door with a master key he’d had since becoming head of Ark security. Clarke moved inside, moving to the desk as Lexa stood in the middle of the room, grimacing at the metal walls and lack of windows or space. Or candles.

Kane watched them both, as Clarke rifled through the drawers, pulling out papers. See appeared to grow more frustrated as time went on, tearing the place apart as she came up empty.

“You were in Arksec for years before we came down to Earth. If you wanted to hide something in class 7 quarters, where would you hide it Kane?” Clarke said, turning to look at him.

Thinking for only a moment, Kane moved over and grabbed the overturned desk chair. Moving towards Lexa, he paused.

“Excuse me Commander. I need to move where you’re standing”.

Nodding, she stepped aside, curious as to what was happening.

As Kane set the chair in place, looking for something, before he moved to the shelves and retrieved one of the support arms that apparently wasn’t bearing weight somehow. Moving back to the chair, he used the arm to pry the ventilation grate off, something that should’ve been impossible given the bolts they could see.

“It was a common black marketers trick. You get someone to cut the heads off the bolts, then glue them in place. It made the grill appeared bolted closed, when pressure would pop it right off.”

Stepping down with the support arm and the grate, he motioned for Clarke to be his guest.

Quickly mounting the chair, she used the edge of the opening to pull herself up enough to see inside. Glancing left and right, she released one hand, holding herself up with the other and snatching something. Dropping it down behind her head, Lexa could see it was a stack of papers bound together with string. Clarke did the same thing twice more before dropping back to the chair.

Hopping off, Clarke picked up the paper and turned to Kane.

“I’m going to read through these, but not in here. Let’s go look at Abby’s places and then we’ll head out.”

Lexa and Kane both nodded before following Clarke out the door. Kane, always curious and hardly ever resisting it, had to ask.

“Commander, I couldn’t help but notice that Clarke seems to be in command here. Is that because of her familiarity with us, or the fact that she’d negotiated on our behalf in the past?”

Lexa, constantly surprised by this man’s insight, decided again that she liked him. He was one of the very bright spots to come from the skai people, the others being her wife and Raven. Octavia was in the neutral column until, as Clarke would say, she “got her shit straight”. They had such disgusting sayings in the sky.

“Both, Marcus kom Skaikru. Were she not to have dealt with this situation, I certainly could have, but with four exceptions, the rest of your people would be dead had I done so. You, Raven, Octavia, and a boy Clarke has need of.”

“I see”, and he did. One of the things he’d figured out was that as highly as the Arkers thought of themselves, they were a small part of this world they’d found themselves in. They could be an important part, if they handled things properly, or they could be a disproportionately large pain in the ass, as they had been. He was committed to turning things around, ensuring the Coalition saw his people as an asset.

In each place they searched of Abby’s, they found copious notes about her experiments. In another smuggling spot in her quarters, they’d found what appeared to be an electronic journal. Taking it from inside the wall, Clarke examined it, her breath catching as it called forth a memory.

She was twelve, and her dad was typing away on a tablet. She’d snuck up to him and, on the back, she’d painted a thin little heart.

Turning over the dusty tablet in her hands, she held back a sob as there, at the bottom, was the same purple little heart. Bowing her head for a moment, she felt Lexa approach, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Not needing to be asked, “It was my father’s. His journal. It disappeared just before he was executed. I don’t know why I didn’t remember it. He’d always said it was our secret, and I guess that was true. If Abby didn’t get rid of it, she must not have known about it. It won’t turn on, so I’ll have to get Raven to look at it when we get back.”

Putting it aside in the small crate containing everything they’d found so far, they left Abby’s quarters, Clarke’s old quarters. Lexa had looked in her room, marveled at her painting on every available surface, including the floor, walls, and ceilings, and then shut the door.

Stopping at the exit of the Ark, Clarke repeated “We’ll let you know when to move the people out. In the meantime, keep the people calm”.

Nodding, he’d re-sealed the door and they’d walked away.

As they’d moved towards the gates, Indra had found them.

“Report Indra. I hear no more sounds of fighting, so I assume the battle is over.”

“Sha Wanheda. Our dead are being prepared for the pyres. Including the Rock Line group, we lost 137 warriors, so 36 of value.”

“Thank you Indra. Let me know when our dead are ready. As for any Skikru dead, have them wrapped and marked but do not burn them with our warriors.”

Nodding, Indra headed off to complete her latest orders. As Clarke and Lexa cleared where the gates had once been, they saw that the Commander’s tent had been set up some thousand feet away, near the back of the clearing. Heading for it, they each nodded at the warriors they passed, all busy setting up the forward encampment. Some would stay at the previous camp in the woods, but many would stay here to guard the Sky camp.

Passing Sam and several other guards at the entrance to the tent and giving instructions for a meal and hot water for a bath, they both moved to the weapons rack to begin divesting themselves of the armories they each carried, Clarke depositing the crate to the side.

Helping each other, it was much easier work than doing it alone. Once the weapons were removed, Clarke turned to Lexa and inspected the site of the bullet impact. There was a tiny spot on the plate, an indentation that hadn’t been there before. She briefly fingered it, ensuring that it hadn’t penetrated at all. Nodding, she stood straight and started helping Lexa out of her armor. Once she was done and Lexa was in her undershirt and shorts, Lexa returned the favor. As she finished, they each took a moment to remove one another’s symbols, putting them in the boxes but leaving them out. They both knew they’d need them tomorrow for the pyres and executions.

The tub having been filled, they stripped off their underclothes and both eased into it. It wasn’t that large, but they managed. Scrubbing quickly and efficiently, washing one another’s backs, they enjoyed the water while wiping off each other’s war paint and undoing braids, then just sitting until it began to cool. Getting out, they both found new underclothes and bindings before putting on what Clarke affectionately referred to as their “leisure armor”.

“I’m going to be up for most the night reviewing what we found. Please get what sleep you can love. I’ll join you when I finish.”

Knowing that her wife wanted this sorry situation done with once and for all, she didn’t argue. As their meals arrived, they felt the first bit of relief wash over them. They were alive, most of their enemies were not, most of their warriors were, and they were almost done.

As Lexa crawled into bed a few minutes later, she spotted Clarke through the open divider separating the documents into categories, at least she assumed so since that’s what she’d do. Hoping her wife managed some sleep, Lexa blinked, and between one blink and the next, she was asleep.

Waking up some time later, she found herself holding Clarke, her wife’s back to her chest. She realized that tonight she had gotten to be the ‘big spoon’. While the close call the day before would’ve led to Clarke’s need to hold her, perhaps the emotional toll had led to the reverse. In any event, Lexa resolved herself to enjoy it. Staring at what features she could make out in the dim light and the angle she was at, she marveled again at the sky girl who had crashed into her life.

Clarke, feeling herself being watched, an instant later registered the arms she was being held in. Humming to herself, she buried herself deeper in Lexa’s embrace, wanting to stay asleep but knowing it was not meant to be. Indra had come to the tent after Lexa had fallen asleep to relay that the dead were ready. Clarke had told her to hold off on the lighting of the pyres until morning, when the warriors were rested and could give it the attention it deserved. Indra had taken her leave to get her own meal and rest after mentioning that Octavia had been allowed into camp with an injured Lincoln, but that the report from the fisa said that he would be well very quickly, the bullet missing anything vital.

As Clarke yawned and stretched, she relayed this to her wife, knowing that the day waited for no one. Leaning up to kiss Lexa gently, she couldn’t wait for them to get back to Polis and put this all behind them. As she recalled, there were still two elevators that they’d not used yet, and if the Skaikru were inducted, they’d get an ambassador, and a chair for the ambassador…

Seeing the look in her wife’s eyes, Lexa knew that she’d better get up or the risk of being waylaid would grow each moment. Levering herself off the bed, she again put on her light armor, saving the full ensemble for after she had eaten and bathed. Making her way to the tent flaps, she relayed orders to bring food and then hot water, in that order.

Turning around, she saw a naked Clarke stretching her arms towards the sky, and wondered if they did not have some time before the food arrived. Certainly they could delay eating for a few hours.

Grinning as she bent down to pull on her own clothes, Clarke knew what she’d done to her wife. She was glad that the sight of her naked still excited Lexa as much as the reverse excited her. No bed death here, thank you very much.

Moving back to the desk, she decided to give Lexa a report before breakfast arrived.

“To summarize, everything we suspected about Pike was true, including who he was talking to. What we didn’t know was how he was keeping the Arkers so subdued. His documents helpfully explained that, but it also means that all the food workers, and there is a list, now have to be executed as well.”

Lexa nodded for her to continue.

“That brings things to Bellamy. He knew everything, and he went along with it. Not only did he enjoy the perks, but he didn’t even have the excuse of Pike threatening his sister. It was more twisted than that, but don’t worry, I’ve arranged something suitable for during his execution.”

“The rest of the council, in this case just Kane and Sinclair, tried to resist the damage that they were doing or to shelter those they could. Kane much more so than Sinclair, but still. Octavia, but especially Lincoln, also tried to see to it that people who were desperately hungry got more food, often from their own plates, just as Kane did.”

“Oh, and what Pike was doing to the people, Jasper was in on. It seems his knowledge in the herbal and medicinal field was essential. If Raven hadn’t killed him, he'd have been tied to a log beside Bellamy.”

As she finished the summary, the food arrived. Deciding to forego any of the other details, including Bellamy’s motivation and Pikes means of control since she’d have to repeat it later anyway, she settled in to enjoy her food. In the distance she heard the gona working on the task she’d asked Indra to assign for this morning. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long.

Finishing the meal and sending the plates back, Clarke set about cleaning their armor while Lexa did the same with their weapons. It wouldn’t do to arrive at the pyres with the blood of enemies still staining them, not when they had the time to clean it off. As they each finished their tasks, the water arrived. They bathed, re-did braids, donned armor and re-affixed their symbols and war paint as they’d done the morning before.

Kissing each other briefly, Lexa asked “What is your plan for the morning hodness?”

“I need to check on the progress of the gona in building a platform. We’ll need to gather the Arkers in front of it to announce the findings and to pass judgement on those left alive. We also need to see to the pyres once breakfast is done throughout the camp.”

Nodding, Lexa replied “Check on the platform, I will get the camp organized in preparation for the lighting.”

Briefly clasping her wife’s hand, Clarke pecked her lips before heading off to the left, Lexa to the right.

A productive hour passed, with Clarke arranging a meal to be prepared for those Arkers still alive which, according to Kane, numbered 551. While not easy to provide food to that many, she certainly had enough hunters present, and they managed well between fresh kills and what they had brought with them. For some, it would be a last meal. For the rest, it was the last free meal provided by the Kongeda. The stage was almost complete, and with the number of executions now set, the final logs and ropes were being placed.

Meeting Lexa back near the tent, she saw that her wife had indeed gotten the grounders organized into all the tasks that needed doing, which allowed Indra to rest a bit more after her late night. Kissing briefly, she ascended a log to address the camp.

“Warriors of the Kongeda, you have done Heda, myself, and your clans proud. We will now commence with the final rights for our people, including the branwadas from Rock Line. All those not on watch, move to the pyres.”

Hopping down, she saw a fresh-faced Indra approaching, who nodded either in acknowledgement of what was about to happen, or gratitude for the extra sleep, or both. Warming up to Indra hadn’t been easy, but getting Indra to unthaw a few degrees had been harder. She wished she knew how Kane managed it, but then again, if her hunch was right, it wasn’t something that’d be useful to her, super sexy wife and all.

Approaching the just completed stage, she nodded, passing it by on the way to the pyres. Passing by the collection of Arkers’ bodies, she paused, causing the party to stop with her. Calling over a gona, she sent him in search of a preserving jar and some cloth. Feeling a flicker of approval inside, she knew Wanheda not only approved, but took a certain amount of glee in what she had planned.

The gona returned, and Clarke opened the sheet that the body was wrapped in. Drawing her dagger, she sliced through the clothes. Some gona nearby turned away, their morning meals in danger of reemerging. Indra and Lexa, however, just looked at her with curiosity. A few short minutes later and she was done, sealing the jar and ensuring she didn’t get bloody.

Not able to hold out any longer, it was Indra who spoke “Did you need a souvenir? Surely you could’ve found a better example. I have a list in my hut in TonDC should Heda’s merchant-bought versions not hit the spot.”

Turning slightly red despite herself, she looked up at Lexa who looked both mortified and amused, if that was possible. “I always suspected you were a size queen Indra, but oh my Spirits, humor. Is having a certain massively hung Arker back in your life finally letting you relax enough to get those cobwebs and bats out of your vagina?”

Lexa, having finally decided on amusement, lost it. The gona that were trying to not take note of what was in the jar in Wanheda’s hands were drawn to the sounds of their Heda laughing hysterically, gripping the shoulder of their clan chief, who… who was smiling?

Every gona in the area RAN. If Indra smiled, either the Earth was ending or you wanted to be elsewhere.

Indra, quirking an eyebrow, nodded at Clarke, as if she’d passed the sass test and at least for the moment been judged… within the margin. Standing, she called over a frightened warrior to take her, well fuck it wasn’t a prize, or trophy. With the acquisition in hand, she instructed him to take it to a cool place before the heat of the day hit them, perhaps storing it at the bottom of a stream, nature’s refrigerator.

Moving to continue on their way, Indra repeated her question, respect now restored to her tone “Why did you wish to take and preserve such a thing?”

“It’s a gift, Indra. I’ll either explain it when it’s given, or you’ll understand it then. To explain now would be to rob you of the moment.”

Having a vague notion of the meaning, she nodded. She was missing context, and Wanheda would provide it in time. To explain to soon would be to lose the power of the moment. As a chief and someone who runs a city the size of TonDC, Indra knew about the display, the presentation of things done in such a way as to have the most effect.

Approaching the pyres, they noted the gathered warriors. Thankfully, there were few bodies of the fallen this time. Everyone here had borne witness to much higher body counts.

Stepping onto the stage, Lexa and Indra behind her, she addressed the gathered gona.

“Warriors of the Coalition!
We gather to honor our fallen
We honor the men who gave their lives to stop evil
The men who died so that innocents and children would live
Their sacrifice will not be in vain
Evil will be crushed wherever we find it
When there is no mercy to be given, BLOOD WILL HAVE BLOOD!”

The warriors’ voices rose up as one to repeat the chant so familiar, but with a slightly different meaning these days. Yes, justice must be served, but there were times when there was room for mercy. Unfortunately for Pike and Abby, there was none to be had. There would likewise be none for the natrona Bellamy.

Stepping down from the stage and taking one of the torches along with Lexa and Indra, they lit the three pyres present and stepped back, standing straight and watching as the bodies were consumed by flames.

They stood sentinel for over an hour. As the flames dissipated and only ash remained, she addressed the men again.

“All those not on watch will report to the front of the Ark. It’s time to flush the people outside. Ensure they have no weapons. None are to be harmed. They will be led to the central cook fires to receive a meal, and we will group them in the training field to eat under guard.”

Moving out at the front of the crowd, she marched them up to the door. Meeting Kane once it was unlocked, he asked about food for the hungry, especially the children. Explaining the plan, he eagerly agreed. Keying in to an Ark-wide PA system, he made the announcement to gather in an orderly group at the main entrance to the Ark. There were, of course, other entrances, but gona posted at each would not react kindly to an Arker trying to leave that way.

There was the usual grumbling and bitching, but a few corrective words from Kane or a few slaps to the back of the head by Clarke or the gona and the people fell in line.

Once given a meal and placed in the training fields, Clarke organized the gona to search the Ark with Kane in the lead, leaving Sinclair as the senior Arker with the people outside. The search yielded various crude weapons, a few hidden guns, and the agricultural evidence hidden in a remote side room. She had Kane use a digital camera to document the find, then ordered her gona to take the items through the auxiliary hatch at the back of the Ark and destroy them with fire until nothing remained.

Clarke had the weapons placed in the armory, changing the code to an eight digit number with Kane watching. She explained that until new guards were trained, he was the only Arker to have it. She would also give it to Indra, who would be remaining for a week after Clarke and Lexa left, to ensure a smooth transition. To say that Kane took the news well would be an understatement.

Rejoining Lexa and Indra outside, she ate a quick meal while conversing with the two. “I’m going to start the executions after we finish eating. Indra, have you located the people that were in Pike’s files yet?”

“Yes Wanheda, we have positioned them at the edge of the field nearest the execution posts. I’ve also arranged a group of sixty and placed them nearby to cut off any attempt to flee or to mix with the innocent.”

“Excellent. Once I make the announcement, swarm them. With so many, I don’t want any getting away in the confusion.”

Indra nodded, finishing her meal before moving off to carry out her orders. Clarke turned to her wife questioningly.

“You’ve been so quiet for most of this ordeal. Are you upset?”

“No hodness. I am letting you have the room you need to do what you must, without my interference. This battle and its aftermath are yours to command, yours to resolve. I support you in your decisions, and I work to carry out your will, just as you do when I command. Should you need advice I shall give it. Should you seem unsure, we can discuss it. So far, your actions speak true and your resolve has not waivered. I have no need to speak up when you are doing what I would do, except to say that you do both of us proud by your actions and your will Clarke, Wanheda.”

Speechless after such praise and, frankly, such a long speech by her wife after such a period of silence, she leaned over and kissed her soundly rather than reply.

Ending the kiss, Clarke stood and took Lexa’s hand, leading her towards the stage where three chairs now sat. None was a throne, all three equal, but it would only be Clarke passing judgement. These had been her people, and who better to judge their actions than her. Hearing the commotion as fifty-two people were separated from the ranks of the Arkers. Motioning for Kane to join her, she leaned forward and briefly explained to him in hushed tones. His face going pale as she needed her head to his question, he returned the gesture and stood by at the edge of the stage at ground level, where he was joined by Sinclair.

While Kane was filling-in Sinclair, Clarke sent for the guest of honor, having two gonas sent to collect him.

Standing, she addressed the crowd of Arkers, down now to an almost even 500, in gonasleng.

“People of the Ark. One of the reasons I came here was because most of your former leaders, Abby Griffin included, had, and were continuing to, commit crimes against the people of the Ark. Abby Griffin has paid for her crimes, as much as she cold in this life, by her death.

What you do not know is that Charles Pike was likewise victimizing you. Through the food and agricultural workers he brought with him from Farm Station, from Ice Nation, he brought with him the literal seeds of oppression. With the help of his people and the resident senior botanist at this camp, Jasper Jordan, they cultivated, processed, and distributed a powerful sedative and barbiturate into the processed snot that most of you ate.”

Clarke paused to allow the murmurs and agitation to die down.

“Every agri-tech and food tech were in on this scheme, as confirmed by Pike’s own hand. One hour ago, this crop was found, photographed, seized, and destroyed under Chancellor Kane’s observation.”

“Other than Jasper Jordan, Pike’s main co-conspirator was Bellamy Blake.” At this, a sob was heard from the right edge of the crowd, an upset looking Octavia being held around the shoulders by Lincoln. She straightened, facing the stage and refusing to show any more of her shock or disappointment.

“Bring him forward.”

At this, two warriors brought Bellamy to the front of the stage, the crowd moving back as he was maneuvered to his knees, his wrapped bloody stump of a right arm on display. By the looks of the cloth around it, the healers had simply burned it shut, not bothering with stitches given his fate.

“Bellamy Blake, you are charged with seventeen counts of murder for the Arkers who have died of malnutrition or reactions to the drugs. There are also three hundred and eighty-seven other charges, ranging from assault to rape.”

Bellamy, previously trying to appear brave, began to blubber at the announcement of charges. At the announcement of rape, he turned beet red and appeared to be about to protest, but the look in Clarke’s eye quickly stopped that notion. Instead, as always, he played the recalcitrant boy.

“Please Clarke, I’m sorry! I didn’t want any of it! Pike! It was Pike, all Pike!”

Staring at him, a voice that sent shivers down spines harshly spoke.

“Bind em op, nau!”

Bellamy, dragged kicking, screaming, and begging to the first execution post, is fastened securely to it, even his half arm. His screams and begging continue as Clarke motions to the gona, being handed the preservation jar again.

Standing with cold fury in her eyes, Clarke’s voice carries over Bellamy’s begging and the crowd’s unreset.

“Em pleni!”

Hopping off the stage, she looks directly at Bellamy, speaking while approaching.

“Pike’s journals were quite specific Bellamy. He spoke about what you did, what you enjoyed, what you demanded in payment, including the crimes he overlooked. He also mentioned the one thing that you wanted that he refused to give you, not until he had his final prize.”

Holding up the jar, he looked at her confused.

“Please Clarke, please, I know I fucked up but please, I was always loyal to you!”

“Were you loyal to me when you raped Raven? When you and your dead guard buddies held her down? Was that loyalty to me?”

She could hear Octavia retching in the distance.

“No, you wanted your fun but what you really wanted was right here. Don’t worry, Bell, shhhhh. I’m going to give you exactly what you wanted.”

************

Reaching forward lightning-fast, she grasped his jaw and squeezed at the hinge, forcing his mouth open as her other hand came out of the jar, gravity dropping it to the ground. In her hand lay the partially decomposed but clearly recognizable severed penis and testicles of Charles Pike.

Shoving them into Bellamy’s mouth and pushing his jaw closed, she ordered the gona behind him.

“Give me the needle.”

With almost no effort, she held his head perfectly still with one hand and began her work. She felt Wanheda once again radiating pride at delivering harsh but just punishment for the rape of a woman, the murder of the innocent, and all for the lust and greed inside this sad immature coward.

As she sewed his mouth shut, making sure to put in a second row of stitches to ensure no one would have to hear his begging, he stepped back slightly to avoid the puddle forming under his feet. Finishing and knotting the end, she handed the curved needle back to the gona before stepping a few feet away.

************

Looking him up and down, wishing and praying that she had seen the kind of man he was, what was in his heart, from the beginning. Knowing that no one is infallible, she moved over to Octavia, stopping by her side.

“Understand Octavia, that his shame is not your shame. His deeds do not reflect on you. Look at Abigail Griffin and I, and see the truth of my words. Your brother was a good man once, remember that Bellamy and never forget that the choices he made led him here, nothing more.”

“I find you guilty of the charges against you. You shall die the death of a thousand blades. Mine was the first mark on you, removing half your arm. Mine will be the last mark upon you. We will begin.”

One by one, first Lexa, then Indra, then all the warriors present, then even Octavia, hatred brimming in her tearful eyes, stepped up to cut him, Lincoln following right after. Even Marcus Kane cut him, and that’s when the Arkers were freed from their invisible shackles. One by one, all of them came to take their turn, save the children.

Having lost consciousness several times, she had him roused again for her final cut. Leaning forward, she whispered.

“Know that Octavia is the one good thing you did in this world, and that I’ll ensure that she’s nothing like you. This last cut, this blade is Raven’s.”

With that, she plunged a knife through his groin at an upward angle, the high pitched squeal lasting only a few seconds before he died.

Stepping back to the stage, she took a piece of paper from the gona there and read off the fifty-two names of the guilty, all of them now tied around the clearing. Reading the summary of the charges, ranging from enslavement and assault to child abuse and assault, they were each found guilty. Rather than complete each punishment before starting the next, she walked down the line cutting each, the Kongeda and Arkers following suit until every one of them was dead.

Turning to Kane, “You may bury or burn them, but do it by midnight tomorrow along with the rest of your dead from the battle. They’ll start to stink soon and make hunting, sanitation, and sleep that much more difficult.”

Speaking loudly to the crowd again “Finally, it is the judgement and the decision of the Kongeda that the Arkers are given a final chance to adapt to the ground and to succeed.”

From every direction, there were murmurs, whining, and bitching about how it wasn’t fair, that Pike had drugged them, why were they being punished?”

“Regardless of any influence that you were under, for a year after the mountain, before Pike, you lazy fucks did nothing!”

Silence reigned.

“You will learn how to hunt, how to fish, how to trap, how to weave, how to work leather, make weapons, fletch, cook, build houses from the trees, everything you need to prosper here. The Trikru will teach, and the Skaikru will learn. Any that feel that the deal sucks, start walking west. It’s a seventy-three day journey on foot, over uneven ground, with a grounder’s sure and quick steps. You might make it in a hundred if you’re lucky. You can even take everything you legitimately own, and that’s all. No?”

Waiting a few moments, there appeared to be no takers. Their bravery when told to put up or shut up was a shock to none, least of all Clarke.

“You will learn. If you refuse, you’re banished. If you suck at every job, you’re banished. If you want to live of everyone else’s work, you’re banished. You will be a productive group or those willing to work will be separated from the rest, taken to Polis to thrive, and the rest of you will stay and die. I’m sure we’ll burn your remains a few years later when we reclaim the land and everything you own. And we’ll be heartbroken, really, to effortlessly take back prime farming and hunting land from people who didn’t pay for it.”

Turning to Kane, “Indra remains for a minimum of seven days to work out the details of the tichas that will come. I am also leaving five hundred Trikru gona here with her. Against my better judgement, they will help feed the people until they can feed themselves. Once the time comes that they should know how, the gona stop hunting for the Skaikru. It’s sink or swim.”

Smiling, Kane nodded, knowing that all his people really needed was a chance, and Clarke was giving it to them. They’d succeed, with Indra’s people as teachers, they had no excuse not to.

Turning to her wife, they’d arrived at the time that Lexa would speak. Nodding, Lexa stood and approached the edge of the stage.

“Lincoln, formerly of Tree Crew, and Octavia, formerly of Tree Crew, approach.”

Gulping, Octavia raised her chin and did as instructed. Lincoln knew that this was going to be the moment that decided their fate, good or bad. Banishment and a Kill Order were no small obstacles to overcome.

Moving as directed, they both bowed their heads at the assembled leaders before returning their eyes to Heda.

“In recognition of the aid you have given Skaikru, your banishment from Coalition lands is hereby lifted. The kill order against Lincoln of the Tree Crew was already removed, some twenty months ago by my order.”

Standing in shock, Octavia was speechless. Lincoln, not much better, eyes shining at his Heda, lowered his head in thanks. Almost immediately after the mountain, she’d ensured that he wouldn’t be hunted and executed by Kongeda warriors or bounty hunters.

“Mochof, Heda”.

“Do not thank me yet, Lincoln kom Trikru nodotaim. You are reinstated as a scout ranger under the command of Anya. She currently resides in Polis, and you will return with us there.”

Taking a moment to let that sink in, she turned to Octavia.

“Octavia kom Trikru nodotaim, you are hereby detached from Chief Indra kom Trikru and assigned indefinitely to Wanheda, Clarke kom Trikru. Once she has deemed your service to her is complete, you may, at Chief Indra’s discretion, rejoin her as seken. You leave for Polis with us.”

Having finished the announcements, Clarke dismissed the assembled Arkers and gona. Kane moved over to Indra immediately, eager to reacquaint himself with her now that the unpleasantries had been settled.

Grinning at the two talking animatedly, Clarke interjected impishly.

“We’ll, just uh, be going. Have fun you two. Chancellor Kane, good luck.” With that, Clarke extended her hand, half expecting him to grip it. Instead, he gripped her forearm, already putting his talk of acclimating to the ground to practice. Yes, Clarke decided, the perfect man for the job. Hopefully also the perfect man for that cobweb and bat infestation.

“So Commander Sexy Abs, should we stay the night or head home immediately? You still need punishment and a lot of I Told You So’s for your armor upgrades”

“Well, my HOTness...”

Clarke groans, Lexa’s puns are the worst.

“I am sure that our things can be packed within the hour. It is a day’s ride, and I would rather be reunited with Aden a day sooner, not to mention disrupting whatever Anya and Raven have managed in our absence.”

“Hmmm, you’re right. I’m sure Aden’s fine, but it feels like weeks since I’ve seen him. He’s probably back to copying you nonstop again. We’d better get back so I can undo the damage.”

Swatting Clarke on the rear when no one was looking, Lexa increased her pace back to their tent. Informing the guards that they were leaving in an hour set off a flurry of activity. Most worked to help remove their possessions as soon as they packed them, the rest moving to secure smaller travel tents they’d need the following night, should they not make good time due to weather. Still others went to get provisions for the journey.

Clarke had stepped out to see about their horses and Lexa was left alone. Sensing movement near the entrance, she turned only to see Lincoln standing there, unsure.

Remembering himself, he entered and bowed, “Heda.”

Having finished her packing, Lexa moved to him, placing a hand on his shoulder “Stand Lincoln. It has been too long to stand on formalities when we are alone. How are you? I had forgotten to ask if you are well enough to travel after the gunshot wound.”

“I am fine Heda. I can easily make such a short ride. I am here to thank you for the mercy and forgiveness you’ve shown me after disobeying you. I know you did not have to do so Heda.”

“Leksa, Lincoln. When can I get you to use my name in private?”

“When you are no longer Heda, Heda” Lincoln grinned, their old banter renewed.

Sighing, Lexa looked at him with fond exasperation, “Still the same stubborn older brother, always giving me grief.”

“You’d have it no other way, Leksa”

Embracing tightly, the two spent the next few minutes in each others arms, the customs and laws of their people having separated them for too long. Breaking apart, both pretended not to see the shine of the other’s eyes.

“You assign Octavia to Wanheda to correct her course, yes? I had tried, but with so many dangers surrounding us, she was too stubborn to see the path she was taking. It was all I could do to protect her and those innocents I could. I did not do enough for Raven.”

“Raven’s situation was unique. She was not just another number to Pike or even Bellamy. Distracting them would not, could not have worked. You did what you could, and where there for her when few others were. She will heal in Polis, and from what I have heard, she bears neither of you ill will. Though I do believe she will enjoy watching Clarke teach Octavia who is the ‘Head Bitch in Charge’. Sky people have such odd sayings.”

Grinning at each other, they carried out the last of the trunks to the waiting warriors packing the rest. Clarke approached, an odd young man following that Lexa vaguely recalled from description.

“Commander, may I introduce you to Monty Green. Monty, this is Lexa of the Tree People, Commander of the Coalition, aka Heda.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you Montee kom Skaikru.”

“Uhm, thanks! Heda! Thank you Heda.” Monty stood there shuffling, worried he’d already offended the Commander. After Clarke’s stories, there was little chance at that.

“Monty’s agreed to come back to Polis with us. He’s going to work with Raven on some things, like that project I was mentioning for the tower.”

Monty speaks up, eager to help “Absolutely! And I already know how to help with the other thing. We just need to make Clarke President.”

As Lexa looks perplexed, Clarke sighs. “Monty, let’s talk about that later, okay? We’ll get back and fill Raven in and all come at this together.”

Nodding, Monty stayed quiet as Clarke issued some orders for another horse and provisions to be readied, Monty only having the contents of his backpack to his name.

As the group finished their preparations, Kane and Indra approached, together, to the surprise of no one.

“Leaving already Commander? I’d have thought you’d stay another evening, just to make sure everything was going smoothly”. Kane wasn’t second-guessing, just concerned if something urgent had come up.

“Hardly Chancellor. I trust in Indra’s abilities, and am eager to return home with my wife.”

Hearing this, Kane split a wide smile “Yes, Indra did mention it. Congratulations to both of you. I understand. I want to thank you both again for this chance. We all know… well, we all should know that you didn’t have to give it to us. We won’t let you down.”

Looking at him, Clarke decided to reply, her mission after all “We know you won’t Kane. If the people fail, it’s on them. You can lead a horse to water, or something, but he can’t swim.”

Twisting his face at her butchering of the expression, he let it pass. “Safe journeys to all of you. Send Raven my best please. And, may we meet again.”

Clarke muttered the same, looking at the man kindly, nodding at Indra, and directing the gona and Monty to ride out. Turning to Octavia and Lincoln, already on their own horses, she addressed them.

“Octavia, your duties will begin with me the day after we return to Polis, and will continue every day thereafter, with no break, until I am satisfied with your readiness as a warrior of the Coalition. That includes physical, mental, and emotional readiness. Lincoln, since Anya is stationed inside Polis at the moment, it’ll be a lot of boring duty for a scout, but I’m sure she’ll find something for you to do. Do NOT let her lure you into her pranks. Her last assistant ended up purple for three weeks when one backfired.”

Not expecting or waiting for a response, she waved at Indra and Kane and rode out, Lexa by her side, Lincoln and Octavia in the rear, ready to start a new chapter of their lives, free of past mistakes and ready to face new challenges with friends and family by their sides.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

The group rode into the forest, following the increasingly worn path towards Polis. The warriors left behind would mostly disperse over the coming week with thanks from their Heda and Wanheda. Indra would see to their orderly departures, with all of those having participated having been acknowledged through either tattoos or scars bearing kill marks, and with the debt markers for the battle. These tended to be small tokens with a unique symbol to differentiate them from others, a token that could be used with traders to compensate the warriors, healers, and others who were called away for battle. The tokens were then traded for what was needed like food or clothing, anything really. This helped to ensure that the warriors, healers, and laborers who heeded the Kongeda’s call for them did not suffer for the time away from home. It’s not like the army got paid formally, so it was a compromise put in place by Lexa. No one should suffer for aiding the coalition or their clan, especially when the coalition or clan and repay them.

As night approached, they began to slow their pace. Clarke and Lexa knew that they would soon come to a stream near a clearing, the spot used as all but a formal camping area between the two peoples. Clarke supposed that, given the now formal nature of the alliance, with Kane set to visit Polis and declare the loyalty of Skaikru to the Kongeda six weeks hence, the area in question would likely become a permanent rest camp.

Between the guards for Lexa, the guards for Clarke, Lincoln, Octavia, and Monty plus the two women and the various required personnel like a healer and cooks and a few hunters, they numbered close to thirty. Having reached the spot in question, the warriors immediately secured the area. Dismounting, the ones not needed for that task as well as everyone who was left began clearing the remains of the old fire, preparing a new one, and generally getting the camp set up. Several warriors took the horses, ensuring to give Clarke and Lexa’s extra care, and led them to the separated area some hundred feet away that was used for that purpose. Untacking and removing their saddles, the warriors settled the horses in for the evening as the cooks and hunters did their jobs.

After getting the camp ready and setting up a very decent but modest in comparison tent for themselves, Clarke and Lexa checked on the others. Lexa, finding a struggling Monty dealing with his tent, decided that this was the perfect time to get to know the young man better.

“Would you like assistance, Montee kom Skykru?” she asked, trying to hide her amusement at this predicament, lying prone on the ground, the tent material covering him and indeed, binding up his legs to a certain extent. When he registered her presence and words, he tried to stand, promptly wrapping himself further, and falling face-first towards the ground.

Moving quickly, Lexa caught up, righting him on his feet before she unwrapped him, mirth clearly showing on her face. Clarke had spoken fondly of him, his exuberance and caring as well as his keen mind were great assets to her. Now having a first impression, Lexa could agree, and if she were honest, he did appear to be like a young puppy, all eagerness and energy, getting himself into trouble and chasing his own tail.

Seeing Lexa standing there, having kept his face intact, Monty felt himself relax. Clearly she wasn’t the bloodthirsty savage that Bellamy and the rest had made her out to be. He hadn’t met her personally, but Raven had said she was both ‘hot and fair’. Later he was busy being trapped in the mountain when Clarke had worked out the deal with the Commander.

“You’d help me? I mean, you have all these people of yours but why would you help?”

“Most have assigned duties, and since Clarke has spoken so highly of you, I wished to get to know you. Much of what we know and suspect will require your help to resolve. It’s wiser to get to know you now, rather than when so much else is happening. Also, the help you will provide involves great power and responsibility. I wish to not only ensure your loyalty, but also your character.”

Taken aback by the honest, something that was sorely lacking for the last two years, he couldn’t help but respect her for it. So much lying, maneuvering, and backstabbing had happened in Camp Jaha and he was sick of it. Whether people liked you or hated your guts, Monty preferred to know it up front and without the bllshit.

Grinning at Lexa, he replied “I’d really appreciate the help, thank you Heda. Also, you don’t have to worry. My loyalties will always be with Clarke. She’s always been the one to protect us, even when we didn’t want it and didn’t appreciate it. She didn’t want to be the leader, but if the last two years have shown me anything, it’s that the people that want to lead generally shouldn’t, and those that are the best at it usually have to be pushed into it.”

Nodding at the simple truth of the words, Lexa and Monty set about putting up his tent. It was quick work with two people, and as they finished, she could hear voices off to the side. Looking over, she noticed the warriors gathered around the area normally reserved for small training bouts. Deciding she wanted to investigate, she nodded at Monty and moved in that direction. Not one to miss out on the excitement, he immediately followed.

As she got closer, Lexa started making out the words. Of course it was Clarke and Octavia. The former seken was speaking, rather passionately from the sound of it, again about the missile that hit TonDC. She noticed Lincoln also gathered with the gona, and as she approached, he spoke.

“Heda. Wanheda has promised that no permanent harm shall be done to Octavia, so I suppose that’s something. Based on her weapons and armor, I assume that she knows enough technique and control to be able the promise such a thing?”

Lexa nodded, directing her attention to Clarke and Octavia standing at the center of the small training area.

They were circling one another, both with swords at the ready. Of course Clarke was holding her’s properly and in the correct stance. Octavia seemed to already be allowing her emotion to get the best of her. Her grip was wrong, the hands too close together. Her footwork was also sloppy and she would be off balance in any real battle.

“So many people, all you had to do was tell someone Clarke!”

“Octavia, someday you’ll learn that in battle, in war, there are times when you have to make a choice between two really shitty outcomes. You might not like it, but Indra would say the same thing.”

“No she wouldn’t! She wouldn’t choose for so many of her people to die just to trick the enemy!”

At this Octavia rushed forward, brash and stupid. Clarke easily parried her blows and slid sideways to again get distance.

“We’ve been over this and over this O, over and over again. I see it now. I see it in your eyes.” Here Clarke paused, looking at Octavia deeply. That’s why this kept coming up.

Octavia began to get nervous, terrified really. She hated everything about Clarke’s decision but she knew deep down that she wasn’t being honest, she just couldn’t let it go. Something wouldn’t let her let it go.

“It’s betrayal O. It’s not about the people in TonDC. It’s not that I let them die so we’d win against the mountain or keep your brother alive long enough to disable the fog. This is about you. This has always been about you, hasn’t it?”

The warriors gathered looked on, not knowing the backstory but understanding enough to see where this was going. It was a lesson learned early as a warrior, obviously one this Sky Girl hadn’t been taught until now. Monty looked on in fascination, knowing that this was what O needed to finally pull her head out of her ass.

Octavia was mortified to feel the sting of tears in her eyes.

NO! She wouldn’t let Clarke do this! It wasn’t fair, she had the right to be angry! Those people deserved better!’ She told herself, lied to herself, again and again to try to block the truth that she knew was coming. She rushed Clarke to distract herself, locking swords with her.

“You understand it on some level. That warriors have to die to achieve victory. Your problem O is that you never thought it would be you. You’re mad that I saved Lexa, and that we left. You’re mad because you saw that day that to win I’d have sacrificed you, and you can’t stand it. It’s betrayal, and it’s the reality that you might have been my friend, and we were getting closer, on our way to being best friends, but that I’d let you die to end the mountain. That’s it, isn’t it O? You’re angry, enraged at the thought that you could be expendable. After so long under the floor, being worshipped by the 100 for being a second child, being the first to talk to a grounder, being the first to fall in love with one, you thought you were special, that this whole thing was your story, and how dare I almost let you die.”

Crying now, Octavia shook her head in denial and came at Clarke again. This time Clarke didn’t dodge or give a half-assed response, she parried the swing and hit back with one of her own, using the flat of her blade against Octavia’s stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

Backing off quickly, Octavia steadied herself knowing that it was a lucky shot because she was upset. Time to make Clarke hurt for as much as that betrayal hurt.

She swung again, trying to score a hit, but Heda must have taught Clarke some tricks, because she was again thwarted. After blocking a thrust to the side, Clarke used her left fist to deliver a series of hits to Octavia’s stomach and ribs. Octavia took the hits and tried to use Clarke’s one-handed grip to her advantage, putting all her might behind pressing the crossed blades forward. They didn’t move.

Growling in frustration and pain, she backed off again.

“Or was it more? Was it that I would’ve sacrificed you, or was it that you saw what was happening with Heda and I? You were seken to the Trikru chief, but there I was with Heda, talking strategy, planning battles, sharing meals and learning about their culture and helping to secure the future of the Kongeda. Was that the rest of it O? Were you jealous because of something so petty as measuring yourself against me, deciding that you were always second best? Some stupid fucking dick measuring contest, and I just had more?!”

A hush fell over everyone, and Lexa could see by Octavia’s eyes that this was the heart of it. Lincoln must’ve known it too, as she saw the understanding dawn on his face. He looked resigned to the truth of Clarke’s theory, but also somewhat relieved now that the cancerous and petty thought was in the open to be dealt with. He didn’t envy Octavia. He loved her with all his heart, but she clearly had to learn this lesson.

At this, Octavia screamed in rage, at Clarke for getting everything in life handed to her, at herself because she did feel second best, and especially at the fact that she knew it was petty jealousy. Why was she under the floor all those years? Didn’t she deserve to be the one to get it all? She wanted to call the shots and have the partner with the power and be respected like Clarke was. She wanted to be the legend GOD DAMMIT!

Racing to Clarke, she swung with all her might. What came next only registered to her in flashes. She swung over and over again, but each time her blade was stopped, and each time she felt escalating pain. She had never seen a truck, but she imagined that getting hit by one felt something like this. Even then, that happened once and was over. The next flash that she registered told her where the pain was coming from. After each of her swings, Clarke hit her with a closed fist. The target varied, from her stomach, to her ribs, to her arms, and even a few hits to her legs from Clarke’s feet. The pain was more than she’d ever felt before.

Sure, she’d gotten hit in training. Accidents happen, and pain was a great teacher. Even so, even with the fights and battles where she’d been hit full force by grown, strong men, it hadn’t felt like this. Each hit brought a grunt or hiss of pain from her lips and from the first one she’d had to fight to keep her knees from buckling.

She didn’t stop swinging, so neither did Clarke. She took what she thought was a fast swing with her sword, aiming for Clarke’s head. She met nothing but air and, having overextended, felt her payment for that mistake land on her right kidney. At that point her knees did buckle. To her credit, or stupidity, she rolled back to her feet, not willing to stay down.

Eyeing Clarke, the blonde looked about as mussed as someone who was on a Sunday stroll. Octavia’s annoyance flared, and she flung herself back into the right. Octavia wondered how many more tricks Lexa had taught to Clarke and where the fuck she was getting the strength behind her punches. Whatever, the bitch was going down. Octavia knew that Indra had chosen her for a reason, and she practiced with Lincoln almost an hour every day. No way Miss Spoonfed could compete with that long term.

She would be told later what happened next, having no memory of the event herself. In Lincoln’s words, she “foolishly attempted to taunt Wanheda in a most disrespectful way”, whatever that meant. She did remember first the look of disappointment on Clarke’s face and then, something she’d never seen before, appearing foreign. A cold and menacing grin appeared on Clarke’s face, and that was all she remembered seeing. Octavia did, however, remember the feeling of fists hitting her, again and again. Her stomach, again, her ribs, again, but this time with even more strength and at a speed that made her think it was four people hitting her.

The final blow she felt was to the face, a punch just as devastatingly hard if not somehow more so. She felt the bone on the verge of breaking, and the hit resonated throughout her entire skull. It also served to relieve her of consciousness.

The warriors gathered, having heard Octavia’s words regarding how Clarke had earned her place in their society, notably on her back, witnessed Wanheda dismantling the other girl piece by piece. They had seen her fight and wondered why she had shown such restraint. They supposed it was due to the disrespect being shown to her. Had someone disrespected Heda in front of Wanheda, their severed genitals would’ve filled the mouth of their severed head, then handed to the standing corpse.

The fight now finished, the warriors moved to finish their duties. Lexa and Lincoln came from the side, Lexa wrapping Clarke in her arms and kissing her gently. Lincoln bent down to check on O’s condition.

“You did not break her jaw? I thought… it would not have been permanent, but even so, thank you Wanheda.”

“It’s Clarke, Lincoln. Come on, you’ve known me since I was a Sky Princess running around in those horrible clothes. We’re friends, at least I hope we are.” Okay, so knocking out his true love probably wasn’t the best way to reaffirm their friendship.

Grinning up at her, a twinkle in his eye “Of course we are friends Wanheda.”

Lexa chuckled, mirth and exasperation in her eyes. “Now he can be difficult with both of us. You have given him a great gift Clarke.”

Sighing as he finished examining Octavia “You gave Octavia a gift as well. I could tell that you held back at each stage of the fight, even with the fist strikes. I’m sure that she will come to appreciate the ability to chew food over the next few weeks, even if she is undoubtedly sore tomorrow. Mochof.”

Clarke nodded to him. As he moved to lift and carry Octavia, Clarke stopped him. “She’s under my command, and in my care. She’ll hate it when she learns that I carried her, but if she’s to be my seken, which is what I had in mind, then she gets the full treatment. I expect her dedication, and I have to be willing to give her the same or this won’t work.”

Bending down and scooping Octavia up with ease, she passed right by the tent O would share with Lincoln. Initially he was confused, until he saw that she was marching straight towards the stream behind their camp. As she stepped in, she examined this stretch of it. Smooth rocks nearby rather than jagged, and the bottom appeared to be more dirt than rock. It was only about three feet deep, and Clarke paced around a bit to ensure that there were no rocks hidden below the surface. After having satisfied herself of the safety concerns, she simply dropped Octavia straight into the water. The water that was, at most, fifty degrees Fahrenheit. She had told Kane that Winter is Coming, after all.

Octavia came to immediately, sputtering and flailing in every direction. Clarke had already stepped back enough to avoid the splashing, and she waited for O to right herself and finish cursing. Once she had, she raised an eyebrow and waited for O to finish her whine.

“If you’re done freaking out, visit the fisa to ensure your bruises and jaw will be fine. Then clean your armor and get ready for evening meal. Once you’ve done that, you’re to work with Lincoln on side thrusts, parries, and blocks.”

Not waiting for an answer, Clarke moved out of the stream. Lexa silently communicated that she’d follow shortly, so Clarke headed for their tent to clean up before dinner.

“What you say in the privacy of your own thoughts is your business Octavia kom Trikru, but know that if you ever again disrespect my wife and she lets you live through it a second time, you will not enjoy my reaction.” Nodding at Lincoln, Lexa left.

Octavia, flabbergasted at everything that had happened, sat in the water with her mouth agape. Married? And since when could Clarke fight like that? Her fists felt like fucking hammers. Feeling her jaw, she knew there’d be a mark there come morning. Looking up at Lincoln, seeing the disappointment and love there, she resolved herself to showing everybody just how much better of a warrior she was than Clarke. Ignoring Lincoln’s hand, she leavered herself off, promptly falling back on her ass. Huffing, she got up and out of the stream and headed for the healer.

Dinner was a pleasant affair, despite or perhaps because Octavia remained silent throughout. The rest of the group all talked about their excitement for returning to Polis. Lincoln and Octavia learned that many of the men had been encamped around what was once Camp Jaha for some time, in some cases months. Lincoln had seen the scouts and had said nothing, but he didn’t mention that to Octavia. She appeared to be stewing in her own juices, hopefully coming to terms with the fact that Clarke had called her on her bullshit. In all likelihood though she was imagining revenge on Clarke for showing her up.

As they finished their beef stew with bread, Clarke and Lexa moved to sit the first watch. There were endless objections, but being in charge meant that you get to win arguments with your soldiers. As Octavia ducked into her tent, she scowled at she saw the ease with which Clarke scaled a tree to observe from above.

Stupid Clarke and her stupid tree climbing and fighting.

The night passed uneventfully, though there were odd sounds for about an hour, some kind of animals in the trees moaning and shouting, and it sounded like a tree was about to shake apart. Some of the noises almost sounded human.

As the camp came awake, Octavia rolled out of bed moaning. What the fuck had happened? Oh, that’s right. Clarke happened. Looking over to Lincoln who was already almost dressed, he looked back and tried to keep the grimace from his face. Moving to the pile of their things, he located the two jars that the fisa had given Octavia last night. Handing them to her, he reminded “The green mint cream is for pain, and the white is to reduce the bruising. If you’d like help applying them just let me know after you rinse in the stream.”

Nodding, she grabbed her change of clothes, a towel, and a piece of soap before heading out to the stream. The camp appeared in good spirits, though many of the warriors looked tired, especially Monty. It must’ve been those animals keeping everyone awake. She swore that there were words in those noises. Shaking off her irrational thoughts, she arrived at the stream, seeing several others already there, both men and women. They were using a deeper part than where she’d taken her unplanned dip the day before, the water about four feet high.

At Camp Jaha, men and women were strictly separated for bathing. In grounder culture, there was no point. Why be ashamed of your body, or worry about the warrior next to you seeing it? They could be trying to hold your organs inside your body in the next instant, so what was there to hide? Plus, she was rather proud of her body. She didn’t have the muscle of some grounder women, but compared to the Arkers, she was buff.

Glancing around after removing her clothes, she decided that she was going to have to increase her practice time with Lincoln. Several of the other women around her appeared to have quite a bit more muscle. Making a face, she realized it would be training time with Lincoln and Clarke from now on. She got to work washing, turning to face the sun to allow it to offset the coldness of the water. She’d miss the hot water that Camp Jaha’s plumbing had allowed, but that was about all she’d miss.

Dunking under the water to rinse her hair out, she came back up and turned to allow the sun to hit her back, and that’s when she completely froze.

What the FUCK?!!!

About twenty-five feet farther down river stood Clarke. Lexa was sitting on a rock on the shore, apparently having a discussion with her wife. Clarke, standing in profile, had her hair unbraided, her war paint off, and had not a stitch of clothing. These were all examples of details that didn’t even register as Octavia stood motionless.

Clarke was ripped as fuck! Remembering back to the comparison she’d just made between herself and the Arkers, she came to the conclusion that even that didn’t do Clarke’s body justice. It would be more apt to say that if Clarke were the grounder women also taking a bath, then Octavia would be the Arker.

Octavia wishes she could say that the shoulders, the biceps, the ass, even the abs and quads and calves worked to make Clarke look manly. She’d like to say that, but she couldn’t. Even the presence of underarm hair didn’t detract from the picture. Wait what? Looking at the other women around her, they were all the same. Some were hairless in intimate places, some not, but not a one appeared to shave their underarms. She resolved herself to throw that shitty dagger away immediately.

Clarke was a woman, complete with a very ample pair of breasts on display, but she was as shredded as any woman that Octavia had ever seen. The change between the Clarke she knew two years ago and the one before her now could not be more extreme. She had seen the hair of course, shaved on one side, cut to just below her jawline on the other. She’d even made out the tattoo, because how could you miss a scalp tattoo. But there were more, and they were beautiful. Breaking her train of thought for a moment, she considered that if the grounders could tattoo with that much beauty, she was definitely going to have to look into it in the future. Maybe she and Lincoln could get matching ones, or ones that complemented each other?

Slowly, she finished cleaning herself, keeping an eye on Clarke through her lashes. After Clarke rinsed off and came back up, she actually turned to Octavia and began to speak.

“Hey O, after breakfast go ahead and help Lincoln get your tent broken down. We’re going to set off again once everyone’s packed. When we head out, ride up with me so we can work out your duties.” Having finished, Clarke turned and exited the stream, again not waiting for a reply.

When did body jewelry become a thing, and did getting your nipples and belly button pierced hurt? Maybe when she stopped hating Clarke she could ask.

Getting out of the stream, she put on her clothes and went to do as instructed. As she walked, she let it hit her for the first time that day that she was free of the Arkers, and so was Lincoln, and they were both pardoned and could live their lives amongst the Trikru like they’d wanted for the past two years.

Hell yeah bitches! Not only that, but they were going to the capital city of the entire coalition! I mean TonDC was great and all but the capital! I bet there are like a thousand people there! Maybe even like two or three, like more than the Ark! And she’d get to see whatever this Heda Tower was that Lincoln talked about. He said it was big but nothing more than a few stories high was still around. Better humor him and Heda about it. I’m sure it’s better than anything the arkers will build.

She continued randomly thinking of all that life will have instore for her and Lincoln as they packed things up. They’d be spending the foreseeable future in Polis, so she might as well make the most of it. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate what Heda had done for them, she totally did. She just wasn’t going to treat Clarke like some exalted or mythical being because come on, it’s Clarke. Besides, the grounders around here might kiss Clarke’s ass, but she was sure that once they got to Polis, it would be the Lexa show twenty four seven and Clarke would just be the plus one, hardly noticed and then only if she got in someone’s face to probably remind them of who her wife is, so they’d better do what she said.

God she could see it now. Clarke throwing around Heda’s name demanding respect and worship. Octavia sighed, coming down slightly at the thought of how annoying this could get very quickly. And she was assigned to Clarke until Clarke decided that they were done. It could be worse, she could have been assigned to Pike.

Octavia shudders, loading her horse before casting her eyes across the camp. Packing is almost complete, with Clarke and Lexa’s things already packed and put away. Monty was done, talking with the fisa and one of the warrior women. She was glad for him. His best friend had lost himself, but now Monty was free of Camp Jaha, free of people using him and abusing him just for what he could do, not that he was as good at hardware as Raven.

Everyone not packing is finishing their food and rinsing their dishes in the stream, so she hurries to do the same.

Preparations complete, the group mounts up and leaves, Clarke and Lexa in the lead, now once again dressed in their full armor, war paint, and medallions on their foreheads. There are several guards scouting ahead, and several more following about fifty feet behind to ensure that they’re not ambushed from either direction. As they all settle into the pace that Clarke and Lexa have set, Octavia joins them at the front, nodding at Lincoln as she pulls ahead.

“Octavia, good. We should get to Polis just after midday. We’re not stopping again before we get there, so we can either eat what we have as we go or you can wait for fresh food in Polis. I’m going to brief you on what this whole ‘assigned to Clarke’ thing is about and what you’ll be expected to do.”

Pausing there, she looked to Octavia, seeing a grimace, before receiving a nod.

Expected to do? God please don’t let her be Pike with tits. I mean I know she was a good leader at the dropship but things change, and two years is a long time. Please be wrong please be wrong fuck I bet I’m not wrong. Next time she’s eating dirt not me.

Clarke continued “Just like you were Indra’s seken” another grimace from Octavia “that’s what we’ll work up to. I know we haven’t seen one another in a while, and it’ll take time to get used to each other again. I know a lot’s happened in your life, and the same goes for me, but we’ll get there O, if you’re willing.” Clarke looks at her, hoping to one day soon get her friend back. Hopefully a more mature version.

Yeah, if I’m willing to bow and scrape and kiss the boots of the great Wanheda you mean. What are people going to think when I kick your ass? Oh maybe they have another legend, one that kicks Wanheda’s ass. Octavia the Mighty! Just because she has muscles now doesn’t mean she’s hot shit. Do grounders have steroids? Maybe she uses steroids. I wonder if I can get some steroids.

“I have the first day planned for just settling back in. There are some personal things that I need to take care of, but tomorrow first thing we’ll start. I’m going to have you and Lincoln stay at The Tower so you’ll both be close to your Anya and I in case we need you. And you’ll get to see Raven. I gave her her own space in The Tower too. We’ll be spending a lot of time with her and Monty for a while. Lots of things in motion, but you’ll hear about all of that tomorrow.”

Things in motion, yeah, like sweet-talking or bullying your way into more followers. The cult of Clarke. Better than Pike, Better than Pike. Seeing Raven would be good, especially not in that hellhole anymore.

The forest began to change as the sun reached the midpoint in it’s journey. Everyone seemed to perk up, even the horses if that were possible. Lincoln had a look of excitement on his face, as if he were going to see an old friend. If cities could be friends, then that’s actually true. Clarke and Lexa were talking about someone named Aden, missing him and whatnot, so she dropped back near Lincoln.

“So we’ll be there soon, right?”

“Yes, within thirty minutes. It will be good to see Polis again, and to see it through your eyes. We are very proud of our capital. Until this point, you’ve seen the Kongeda through small glimpses, given by our warriors or by seeing TonDC, and even then, you saw only the forward outpost of the city. This will be your first real look, and I am eager to see it.”

Nodding, not really getting it but understanding that this was important to him, she resolved herself to be polite and respectful. After all, they’d just been given a Get Out of Hell Free card, and if nothing else, she respected what Lexa had done with the Arkers, and Clarke too, sure, but she figured the driving force was Heda.

As they rounded a bend, they began to climb a gentle sloping hill. Turning her head, she eyed Monty behind her.

“Hey Monty, are you excited? It’s the capital.”

“Hell yes! Clarke was telling me some really neat stuff about the tech that survived. I can’t wait to see it!”

Nodding and smiling at his enthusiasm, she supposed that anything that survived must be small, and likely next to useless in the grand scheme of things. Oh sure, radios were helpful but they already had those. Still, she wouldn’t burst his bubble.

Looking back ahead, she saw something odd. In the distance, it looked like there was a big tall… there were vines on the side of something really tall.

Looking over to Lincoln, he was alternately looking ahead and looking expectantly at her.

“Lincoln is that a wall?” He nodded. “Jesus how tall is that thing? What’s that in the middle? It looks like a shiny finger sticking in the air.”

Turning to face front, he addressed Lexa “Heda, has the wall grown in the last two years? It appears bigger, and Octavia was curious as to the present height.”

“Sha Lincoln, still an impressive scout’s eye even from this distance. It is another twenty feet since you last saw it. Wanheda plans additional modifications to it once Raven and Monty kom Skaikru have had a chance to talk and plan.”

“Really? That’s awesome. I can’t wait” Monty added.

“Mochof Heda.”

Turning back to Octavia, “With an additional twenty feet of wall, it now stands at roughly one hundred feet, with the poisonous and thorned vines surrounding it on the outside. The structure in the middle..”

“Structure?! You mean that’s a building?!” She interrupted, her head snapping back around to stare at it, trying to make out any features.

“Sha Octavia, the structure is Heda’s Tower, where we will be staying.”

“Yeah, that’s where I’ll be helping, with the tech still around” Monty said.

She tried to play it cool, she really did, but seeing the Tower, the walls a hundred feet high surrounding a city that had to hold not hundreds or thousands but tens of thousands of people.

Oh my God there are so many people look at that TOWER I get to live in that thing I wonder if I’m afraid of heights?

As they got closer, Octavia could make out more details, the vines, the guards patrolling both the base and the tops of the walls. Interrupting her thoughts was the blast from a horn in a pattern she’d not heard before. Three short blasts, one long, and three more short. There was an answering horn a moment later, and a new flurry of activity could be seen near the large gates to the city.

Thinking of it more, she supposed that there’d be more gates than just this one. Probably one set on each side, to allow visitors from any direction to get inside. One gate for an entire city would quickly become a nightmare as goods shipped in and out of the city would have to share the same single gate as all horse and foot traffic.

As they got closer, she realized that the green she’d seen at the top of the tower was actually a signal beacon of fire. She realized it because a moment prior, something drastic happened to it. The fire, previously there but subdued, suddenly roared to live, easily five times as tall as it had been. The flames also shifted from the green color to blue.

“It means that the Commander is in residence in Polis” Lincoln explained.

“Heda and Wanheda. There are other colors for when one of us is here but not the other” Clarke advised.

Humming, Lincoln nodded. It made since, especially given that they were married, that Heda and Wanheda were both revered among the people, and that one may have business with Heda but not Wanheda, or the opposite.

At a distance of one hundred feet from the gate, all of the warriors there snapped to attention. The guards that had been riding ahead and behind moved to the flanks, leaving Clarke and Lexa alone in the middle, with Octavia and Lincoln in the second row, Monty and the fisa in the third, and so on.

As they reached the gate, Octavia looked again and did a double take. Running along the road to the tower, and it was indeed a road, were lines of people, all crowding to get a better spot to see. There were also warriors positioned at intervals along both sides, all at attention.

Everyone in their party seemed to be sitting straighter in their saddles, even Clarke and Heda. It was hard for her to admit it, but as regal and commanding as Heda appeared, the same could be said for Clarke. Turning back to the crowd, she saw the people staring up at both of them, but instead of the dull or fevered gaze of fanatics or brainwashed fools, she saw respect, admiration, and the love one has for a ruler that cares. It had been a long time since she’d seen that look on people’s faces. Certainly never at Camp Jaha.

As they began to pass, the people reached out, hoping to touch them. What surprised Octavia was that both Heda and Clarke moved to opposite sides of the streets on their horses and reached out themselves, giving in to the wants of the people, not being standoffish and aloof, not acting better than everyone else, but giving their people a touch, a look, a nod of acknowledgement. Children and adult alike were clapping and cheering for them, happy to have them back in the capital.

The crawled along at a snail’s pace thanks to the attention they were giving the people, but neither seemed to mind. As the last of the group would pass each guard position, they would allow the street to open once again, so the crowd was following behind them as well. The people were excited but respectful, not trying to rush them, not shouting unpleasantly. In fact, other than shouts of Heda and, loathe as she was to admit it, just as many shouts of Wanheda, the crowd wasn’t very vocal. From all that she’s seen of the culture, Octavia supposed that except in battle or celebrating, they were quieter than arkers.

Finally within sight of the tower, it was even more amazing close up. It had to be a hundred stories tall, and amazingly intact. It wasn’t perfect like brand new, but it sure didn’t look a hundred years old. She spotted what looked like a recessed balcony taking up a lot of the second and third floors on that side of the building, overhanging what must be the entrance and lobby. On the front of the building, above the doors, she could make out a symbol, the Commander’s gear. But there was something else as well, bright like it had just been added, behind it. She realized that it was Clarke’s blue star, painted to appear as if it was behind the gear, neither bigger than the other. Apparently this was now Heda’s and Wanheda’s Tower.

She looked up at the balcony, realizing it was some kind of reviewing or receiving area. There were guards posted along the balcony, but standing back in the shadowy recesses. Looking to Heda and Clarke for explanation, she didn’t have to wait long.

Clarke knew something was going on, just by the fact that no one official other than the guard captain at the gates had greeted them. One of the lead scouts for the group had ridden ahead to alert both the gates and the tower that their party was arriving, but so far only the guards had arrived. Looking at Lexa, she could see something on her face and it looked like.. Amusement. As she was about to ask, there was a burst of activity on the balcony.

Rushing in from the side, appearing winded, was Anya. Just behind her, moving more slowly but still rushing, was Raven. As she looked back at Anya, she couldn’t help but notice that her lower armor was… askew. Alright, Anya’s entire left ass cheek was hanging out because the leather of her bottom armor was twisted and bunched. Apparently Raven saw it too, because she was frantically trying to signal Anya without it looking like she was trying to signal Anya. She failed to signal Anya. Eyeing Raven more closely, Clarke had to put a hand over her mouth to keep her snort from carrying. Raven’s shirt was caught in her bra, the entire bottom part tucked into the cup, and the lower half of her breast showing clearly through the sheer cup.

Anya slowed to a stop at the center of the balcony, attempting to appear calm and cool. Octavia and Monty were sitting in their saddles with their mouths hanging open. Clarke and Lexa were trying to decide how best to use this to their advantage. It was at that moment, confronted by Anya trying to appear completely straight-faced, that Raven noticed her own issues and started wrestling with her own shirt.

Anya sighed resignedly and turned to help Raven, trying and failing to speak quietly “I told you that we did not have enough time to finish. At least half the Kongeda didn’t see my boobs Reivon kom Skaikru.” With that, she gave her best wicked grin.

As Anya was finishing adjusting Raven’s shirt, Raven reached around and slapped Anya on her exposed ass several times, “Don’t get cheeky, cheekbones.”

Chapter Text

Clarke knew that Raven and Anya together would be a goldmine, she just never imagined that it’d start paying off quite this early. She watched as both of them scampered away as soon and as quickly as possible. Turning to Lexa, they both eyed each other as if they’d just been handed the key to final victory over every foe that existed.

Turning to the warriors, Lexa dismissed those that were no longer needed before she and Clarke dismounted, handing off the reins to Sam so that the horses would be stabled properly. Clarke ordered Octavia and Lincoln to go get settled on floor ninety-seven and to come back to the throne room in fifteen minutes. She told Monty to join them, and that the guards on that floor would direct them to their assigned rooms and for him to likewise come back to the throne room once he dropped off his stuff.

Another pair of guards took possession of their personal items so that they could be taken to their suite in the tower. As she started to move away, Clarke made no move to follow. “Is something wrong hodness?” Lexa asked, lifting an eyebrow at Clarke, already knowing the answer.

Rather than respond immediately, Clarke moved into Lexa’s personal space, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s neck and leaning in next to one of her tiny, adorable little ears. “You’re full of surprises. I told you that you didn’t have to do that love. Your people deserve their traditions, and tradition says that this is the place that Heda rules from.”

“And thanks to the knowledge no longer hidden by a natrona Flamekeeper, we also now know that the Flame and the Light were meant to be together, and though Wanheda has had far fewer hosts, they always have been together, starting with Becca and moving forward until both spirits reached us. They were fated, we were fated, and with both of us now chosen rather than just I, we have no reason not to embrace the union of all that we are.”

Looking uncharacteristically tender in public, Clarke captured her wife’s lips, drawing her closer and kissing her passionately right in front of the tower for all to see. Reluctantly breaking contact, blue gazed into vibrant green “When did you get so poetic? That was beautiful Lexa.”

A slight coloring to her cheeks, “I speak only the truth my love. Somehow our love grows stronger each day and I want each of my days to be spent with you.”

Smiling and nodding, Clarke took Lexa’s hand and they headed towards the grand doors to the tower. Eyeing the symbol one more time before passing through the doors, Clarke did have to admit that her symbol sitting behind Lexa’s did look badass. They seemed to enhance each other, just like her and Lexa did.

As they moved towards the elevators, they spotted two figures bickering quietly near one of them. Moving closer, Clarke surmised that it was an argument about whether it had been worth it. Oddly enough, both seemed to agree that it was, but Anya still wanted them to be more responsible and not give Lexa and herself more blackmail material.

Grinning at them both, Clarke interrupted “Hey guys. Thanks for cumming to welcome us!”. Clarke’s grin reached critical mass and was in danger of fission from her own shitty pun.

Then something happened that tilted the universe on it’s ear, and both Lexa and Clarke could feel it, likely due to their spirits and the unique connection to the world around them.

Both Raven and Anya rolled their eyes… at the exact same moment, and in the exact same way. Not only that, but upon hearing the word “cumming” with so much overemphasis that it may as well have come from a twelve year old, Anya’s reaction, other than the eye roll, was to actually turn a very slightly darker shade.

Before things could get too out of hand, Lexa intervened. “I assume that the Kongeda still stands, that Polis is not on fire, and that Aden has behaved himself and is well?

Anya nodded before leaning over and activating one of the communication tubes. Raven, taking her chance to act now that the focus was off Anya, leaped forward and bear hugged Clarke, squeezing with all her might and burying her face in Clarke’s neck. Clarke could feel a slight bit of moisture there, and quickly eyed her wife to let her know that Clarke had this.

Uncharacteristically emotional, Raven roughed out “I didn’t really thank you after you sprung me from that shithole. Thanks Clarke, and thank you for making me a priority for you, to find the medicine and to work with another healer to give me the best chance to get better. I thought that I knew what family meant with Finn bringing me scraps of food, but I was wrong. You’re my family Griff.” Sniffling, she hugged Clarke tighter one more time before trying to brush her tears away and turning back to the elevator.

When Raven had moved to hug Wanheda, Anya had experienced something new to her, a burning jealousy that she was unprepared for concerning the Sky genius. Once she overheard the beginning of the declaration, she did what no one expected of her. A tender look came over her features and she turned away, back to the elevators, and said not a single word. She did what she would want someone to do had it been her and Leksa, she gave them the most privacy she could.

It was this reaction more than anything that told Leksa that her general was in deep. Sex was one thing, and what a thing it was. But this, this behavior and respect after so short a time, this she knew meant that Onya was treating this seriously, perhaps more serious than Lexa had ever seen. Knowing that Raven was a woman of honor, and that she could never hope to find better than Onya, Lexa was content to leave them to navigate the waters of new love on their own. But, as her wife would say, she reserved the right to tease the everloving shit out of them constantly. Some things were just a given.

The elevator doors parted and the four women climbed aboard. Raven was silent during the ascent, fidgeting slightly after her emotional display and hoping that Cheekbones didn’t get the wrong idea. Clarke was hot as fuck, hell so was the Commander, but Clarke was like a living example of a no-fly zone.

The awkwardness continued, Raven thinking of how she was going to get these elevators working so fucking good it’d be like flying on a rocket as smooth as Anya’s ass when she was done. An odd noise was heard a few seconds before it reached its destination, just as the awkwardness reached its peak. Suddenly, the muzak version of Girl from Ipanema came over the speakers. The shocked and terrified looks were shared by all before the elevator and the music stopped, the doors parting and everyone exiting quickly.

They all moved towards the throne room, Lexa and Clarke in the lead, all silently agreeing not to discuss the elevator incident ever again. The guards swung the doors open at their approach, and they all strode in, Clarke mentioning the arrival of visitors soon so that the guards would know. Once the information had been relayed, the doors closed behind them.

Raven hadn’t had the chance to visit this room since she’d arrived, and she immediately noticed what must have been a fairly new addition. Sitting next to Lexa’s tree-branch throne was another, also on the raised platform which appears to have been enlarged to accommodate the addition. It also appeared that the Commander’s throne had been modified, at least from what she can remember of the original one before the mountain. This throne had a center disk, behind where the Commander’s head would be, It was carved out of a red wood that’d been polished to a golden and fiery finish. It was also intricately carved with the shapes of the gear wheel and, on top of that, many more cogs and gears within it, with flames etched around it. Clearly this was an artistic and stylized version, and the craftsmanship was remarkable.

The throne next to it was intricately carved as well, shaped as if it had sunbeams coming out from one central figure, the exact spot where the occupant would sit. It was an extremely light ash, polished to an almost mirror shine. The disk behind the head appeared to be a stylized version of Clarke’s symbol, the blue star surrounded here by light rays which continued on for another foot.

The two approached the thrones, and Raven understood that her best friend, her sister, was taking a back seat to Wanheda. She imagined Anya thought the same thing about Heda and Lexa.

“Report Anya, just the highlights please. The details can come tomorrow.” Lexa’s voice held obvious command, but also a specific warmth reserved just for Anya.

Anya began to relay what had happened while Lexa was away, giving brief summaries only. Nothing of consequence occurred for most of it, and then Anya reached the part of the report where Raven had arrived. Anya left no detail unreported and, rather than feeling miffed about her privacy being violated, she actually felt a warmth inside her when she realized that almost everything (within reason) had warranted being included on the ‘important’ list. Clarke especially listened with a trained ear for the information about the drug being administered and how long ago that was. She had returned to Nyko twice a day in the days since, allowing him to evaluate the bone, the muscles, the joint, and the nerves. To say he was astounded was to undersell it completely.

Raven was fucking amazed and said so to Lexa and Clarke when Anya reached that spot. That being the end of the report, Raven picked up where Anya left off.

“Yeah, I’m telling you, this shit was the real deal. The first night I could feel the difference. The twitching, the deep aching hollow pain in the joint and bone, they’d all started going away. The next day I started on this crap that the coalition uses for people that get hooked on the poppies grown more south. I guess the poppies are an offshoot of what the pills were made of before the Earth went to shit, so it’s about as close as you can get. I haven’t had the shakes, the sweats, or anything else that I know I’d face if I stopped taking the pills. Between the two treatments, I feel like the badass I used to be before the mountain, but after you realized how awesome I am Clarke.”

As Raven finished, Clarke smiled in relief for her friend. Of course Raven being mobile and free of pain would help with her plans, but to know that the burden had been lifted forever from Raven’s shoulders, that was priceless. Clarke noticed that Anya likewise looked pleased at the progress that Raven had made.

“Has your physical therapy started yet?”

“Not yet, though I am going to one of the warmer springs in the area and moving through that water for at least thirty minutes twice a day to help. It’ll be more of that plus weights to get back in shape. I did have a volunteer to help, so I think it’ll be fine.”

“Great Raven. Just make sure that you keep on top of it. I know you had no choice over what happened in Arkadia, but we’re going to need your brand of awesome in the coming months, and it’d be great if your recovery made that easier for you.”

As Clarke finished talking, two wraps were heard against the double doors before they were pushed open, Monty in the lead, Lincoln and Octavia following behind. When Lincoln spotted two thrones on the dais, a smile bloomed on his face. He knew the legends of Wanheda, and if what he’d seen and what he’d been told of the battle at Arkadia were accurate, the throne sitting by his sisters could only mean that they now ruled together, as the old stories had said it should be, how it had been for Primheda.

Monty, seeing his friend and badass leader sitting on the throne next to the Commander of the entire Coalition, couldn’t help but smile in happiness for her. Spotting Raven though, he made a beeline for her before stopping awkwardly and hugging her gently.

“I’m so glad you’re okay Raven. Thank you for stopping Jasper. The friend I had, the person I knew, would’ve wanted you to stop him. I’m so glad you’re free of that place. Oh my God your brace is gone! That’s so cool!”

He continued to jabber for another minute or two, excitedly exchanging information about both their separate trips to Polis and what they’d seen. Clarke allowed it, using the time to alternately observe Anya and, more importantly, observe Octavia.

Octavia’s reaction was as predictable as it was tiring. Envy, envy and jealousy and the look of someone judging you not for who and what you are now, but based on what they knew of you years ago, without acknowledging growth or change. Given how Bellamy had refused to see O as an adult, that was pretty fucking ironic. Clarke came to a decision, one she’d been mulling for a while. Tomorrow. Tomorrow Wanheda would be let out to show Octavia just how badly she kept misjudging Clarke.

“So, I know everyone wants to get caught up, and we can and will, but first I wanted to show you all a few things about your new home, and a few surprises that Lexa and I, and the people of Polis have arranged. As you know, this is the one hundred and first floor of the tower, the top floor. The only thing on this floor is the throne room, while the floor below us is mine and Lexa’s quarters. Let’s head to the elevators, and we’ll take the short tour together. Yes, we’re all going and no complaints Anya, Lincoln, and O.” She looked at each with a gaze that said there’d be no argument.

They all piled in, with Lexa and Clarke near the doors, the rest arranged around the middle and sides. “Raven, you probably did some exploring on your own and might know some of what I’m going to tell you. The only reason we know this at all and we’re not relying on you and Monty to figure it out is that there were records. The Kongeda and the individual clans might not have a written trigedasleng language, but there were records in English about this building.”

The doors parted, letting them out on the ninety-eighth floor. As Clarke began walking, she continued, “This is ninety-eight. This floor used to be conference rooms where clans would get together and bitch or try to stab each other in the back. That’s been moved down several floors, for the simple fact that their bitching used to reach us up on one hundred.” As Raven and even Monty heard the number and started perking up to speak, Clarke beat them to it “Yes, I realize that we were the one hundred, and now I sleep on the hundredth floor. Well, we sometimes sleep. Anyway, here on this floor, we’ve had the rooms converted into something I think you both will like.”

Continuing down the hallway, she came to a set of doors. Unlike the other doors that they’ve seen, large and wood and lacking knobs, these doors were different. First, they weren’t made of wood. From what Raven could see, they were metal, they were heavy duty, and they looked amazingly undamaged and had a big fucking lock on them.

“As you might have noticed, these doors are new. Obviously we didn’t need anything heavy duty for the meeting rooms, but once they were gone, and we’d agreed on what would be in this space, we decided that security was a must. With that in mind, we found some security doors being stored in the basement. Yes, we’ll get to discussing the basement in a second. So we found these doors, and then we had a blacksmith get to work. Contrary to popular belief, there are tools, some of which are quite large, that are still in use today. The difference is that they aren’t powered tools. So, the smith was able to hammer out and press some flat plate steel and mount it to the existing doors using a combination of welding and recessed bolts. Here we have our finished product, doors that are tough as fuck.”

To demonstrate, she drew one of her mismatched practice blades and slammed it into the door head on. The blade shattered.

“So, Raven, I’ve known for a while that one way or another you weren’t staying in Arkadia. Lexa agreed completely. Monty, the same goes for you. Raven, this is a gift for you.” Reaching into a pouch, she produced a set of keys. “Use the one marked W. You’ll see the reason for it in a second.”

Bewildered, she looked to Anya for some clue. Getting nothing but a curious glance back told Raven that Anya wasn’t in on the surprise. Lexa had a slight smile on her face, but also the look of anticipation, as if she was the one about to get a gift. Clarke just smiled with kindness in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, Raven slide the W key home in the lock and turned it. The sound of several very large bolts sliding filled the air. Grasping the handle, she prepared to turn when Clarke interrupted her.

“Oh! I almost forgot, if you go in this way it’s going to be less dramatic. Here, one sec.” Clarke reached down and removed one of the thick spare bandages she always kept in a pocket. “Do you trust me Ray?”

Nodding, “Of course Clarke, but blindfolding me? This had better be something fucking amazing, like a 67 Mustang, cherry!” Laughing at her own joke nervously, she watched as Clarke handed the bandage come blindfold to Anya. Anya nodded, acknowledging the gesture for what it was rather than keep up a pretence. Stepping behind Raven and slowly tying it, Anya left one hand on Raven’s shoulder and put the other on her forearm, guiding her to where she needed to be. Putting Raven’s hand back on the knob was all that was needed. The next second the knob had turned, and Raven pulled the door open. The reaction behind her was instantaneous.

Monty immediately shouted “Holy FUCK look at all that!” at which point he was promptly gagged with the palm of a hand over his mouth. Octavia was just stunned at what she was seeing, and Lincoln knew enough to know that this was not easy to achieve.

Anya pulled her into the room, manoeuvring her slowly and gently, then backing her up until she lightly bumped into the wall behind her. Raven realized that Anya was putting her in a position to see everything at once without missing anything. Nodding, she then felt Anya’s hands withdrawal. Reaching for the blindfold, she couldn’t help one last nervous joke “You know, I never did get anything for my birthdays. That’s like 22 of them almost to make up for. Let’s see how you did Clarke.”

Taking the blindfold off and opening her eyes in one go, she was glad she was leaning against the wall. If she hadn’t been, she’d be on the floor. Everywhere she looked, every surface, every shelf, it was perfect.

Chapter Text

She felt tears well up in her eyes and instantly overflow as she took in the sight before her. Tools. Tools that looked fucking amazing, not beat to shit scraps someone pulled out of the ass end of rubble. And parts. Parts everywhere, on workbenches I HAVE WORKBENCHES!!!! , to bins, organized on shelves. Trembling, she moved to a bench, sliding the rolling work stool to the side so she could get closer. Looking at the parts, the tools, she didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. They weren’t broken. They weren’t worn down, or scavenged junk. Wiping her face, she turned to Clarke and uttered the only word she could in that moment.

“How?”

Smiling, Clarke nodded. “There are levels below ground for this building. Sub-basements. We’ve also been sending out search parties to different locations where old world tech used to be. There were numerous military bases on the east coast. Some of those had storage areas that were intact. The shortest answer is that what you see here came from all over. The Kongeda and the clans aren’t fearful of tech, they just need to see a clear use, a clear benefit, before they’ll even consider using it. With your brain, we knew that the entire coalition could be helped if we only had the resources. SInce the situation with the Arkers took so long to be resolved, the search teams just kept searching, and finding, and bringing it here. As a result, this workshop and the three storerooms down the hall are bursting with things you can  use to build what we only wished we had at the dropship. With the jamming signal gone, you could build radios to reach the whole Kongeda. The possibilities are endless.”

Nodding, Raven realized that this was it. Anya had fucked her to death and this was the afterlife. There was no logical explanation, she’d simply cum so hard that her brain had exploded.

Seeing the look on Raven’s face, Anya managed to decipher it and, in an exasperated voice, “I did not fuck you to death Raivon kom Skaikru!”

Raven, having all the brainpower of an eight year old at the moment, responded at that level, “Shut up!” before turning beet red, unable to imagine how Anya knew what conclusion she’d come to.

She moved away from the wall and began exploring the area a bit. Her work benches had mounted lights above them, so no joy there, but then she noticed that with the normal hand tools, there were also corded and cordless power tools. Ignoring that for the moment, she rooted around in the drawers, finding tools and other useful stuff, before she noticed a series of very thin, very wide pull-outs on top of the other drawers. Pulling out the top one, she might’ve peed a little.

There, affixed at the edges to the pullout surface, was a blueprint. It was a blueprint of the tower she was standing in. Looking closer, she noticed that the there were several drawings all stacked on one another, done on transparencies rather than paper. Gripping the tabbed edge for the top one, she flipped it up, revealing the power distribution diagram for the building. One look at it and she knew something was very special about this tower. Looking up from it, she found Clarke’s eyes for confirmation.

“Those schematics were found on a sublevel, in the building’s operations office. There were also some brochures, press clippings, stuff like that. They said that this building was revolutionary, one of a kind, because it would not only provide its own power, but also power for the surrounding area. They’d hoped that it would be enough for the businesses and homes for ten miles in every direction.”

Raven nodded, breaking eye contact and examining the designs more closely. That shimmer on the surfaces of the building that she’d ignored was the answer. The building’s entire surface, except for the windows which had obviously been replaced, were covered in a next generation solar cell grid. Based on the connections she could see, the power would then be fed into several of the sublevels where it looked like some kind of batteries were housed.

“Are the batteries intact?” Without those, the design wouldn’t do much good for them.

“Yes, from what we can tell, almost none of them have failed. The press packets said the batteries were a new design, long lasting, high efficiency, and low discharge rate without a current draw. None of us are engineers, but from what we could tell and based on the records from previous occupants of the tower, the main system worked fine. They described the problem being in the, quote, switches that control where the power goes. Some type of power distribution system maybe?”

Raven nodded, it made sense. There had to be a complex distribution system, not just for the building but for getting the power outside as well. From what she could see on the drawings, flipping through different layers, there was a central system for power distribution one floor above the batteries. Without advanced knowledge though, the people wouldn’t have known how to fix it. That also explained the elevators, that worked at once time and then stopped. Nodding to herself, she knew that with the right parts, she could make it work again. It’s just a series of switches, like the records had said. Even if she couldn’t replace it like for like, she was good at cobbling things together. Besides, she was fucking awesome, this building would be humming with power in no time.

Looking over the water systems, she saw how some of the solar power was diverted from the cells before reaching the batteries to run to what looked like boilers. If it didn’t run through the distribution system first…. Holy shit!

“I thought they were heating the water over a fire or something, like maybe some big tank in the basement that they’d keep hot constantly, but there are actual boilers.”

Taking a moment to digest all she’d just learned, she was disgusted with herself for the assumptions she’d made, all of them had made. She thought the grounders were as low tech as you could get, practically luddites. That wasn’t it though. They had technology, it just wasn’t apparent in their far-off cities. They use it and incorporate it when they can, but they’re also more than capable of living for weeks in the forest with nothing but what they can carry.

Clarke saw the moment it clicked in Raven’s head. LIke herself, she knew what Raven had assumed. The people were adaptable, versatile, and were quick learners. In Clarke’s mind, it was the best of both worlds.

“There are parts in the storerooms we have for you, and of course the tools you see here and others. Milling machines, presses, even fabrication. I know you’re the queen of hardware, and we wanted you to have a place where you could fix or build or invent whatever was needed. You can sort through things and move them around based on need. There are also two levels of workshop just below ground level in case you’re working on something too big to get up here. Oh, and there’s a cargo elevator that leads to this floor too. It’s not the biggest, but with the counterweight system, you could get about fifteen tons up here. More, once you fix the power issue and get the elevators running the right way again. As far as projects go though, the tower is the first on the list. We need power again, and soon. There’s plenty of cabling, either the high grade stuff used in this building, or the really high voltage kind you’d find at power plants. One of our scouting parties found a goldmine of stuff at Chesapeake Power. Collapsed and abandoned basements seem to be where the new world hides it’s old world treasure.”

Well, Raven was in fucking candyland. All the tools she needed, a shit-ton of parts and materials, and the best part, someone willing to get her what she needed to do shit right. Well, and the other best part, Cheekbones was there, looking at Raven like she was the queen of her realm. Fuck yeah she was. Best housewarming ever.

“Okay, with Raven’s gift out of the way, and with it not quite time for a meal yet, let’s see if we can get through some of Monty’s stuff. Monty, you’re on the same floor as Raven, on the opposite side, so let’s head over. Oh, and Raven, that means that you’ll be doing your explosives research and testing elsewhere. I don’t want Monty pissing his pants regularly”

Chuckling, the group filed out of Raven’s domain. Once outside the door, she relocked it, now understanding why the heavy door and locks were there.

Taking a moment to hug Clarke after seeing what Clarke had done for her, she mentioned “I’m not going to blubber on you again. Just know that, other than reuniting me with Cheekboned jackass here, this is the best. Thanks Clarke.” Clarke nodded and smiled, letting Raven play things off.

They headed through the wide corridors to the opposite side of the tower. As they walked, Raven considered the scale of the building. From the outside, it didn’t look that wide or deep. It was a trick of the eyes, because there were no other buildings surrounding it, just the open-air markets at it’s base that continued on the inside. Now seeing it from the inside, she realized that the building itself must’ve occupied several blocks in the old city. If she had to guess, three to five blocks in each direction. This wasn’t a thin and tall building like the dime a dozen office skyscrapers, this tower was a behemoth. If it were a hotel, they could’ve fit hundreds of rooms on each floor.

“This entire floor is for the two of you, and everything on this floor is either one of your workshops, tool rooms, or storerooms. The inventory for everything on this floor is on a series of clipboards that was hanging on the wall by your door Raven. Same for you Monty. Here, I have your keys.”

She handed him a set, explaining to both him and Raven that the extra keys were to the aforementioned storerooms. Many used the same lock, so there were only five keys on each of the keyrings. The doors were marked with a letter, which corresponded to a letter engraved on the keys. The only exception was the key to their main workshops themselves, with that key fitting nothing else.

“So Monty, we did our best to get the layout how we thought you’d want it. If you want to change anything, just let me know and we can get the team back to juggle things around. That goes for you too Raven. We’ve got a pretty great group of people that do maintenance on the tower, which I’m sure you’ll both get to know. They can even move walls if you really need it. Okay Monty, it’s time to open your Christmas gift.”

Grinning wide, he used the key, turning the knob and pushing the door open. Keeping his eyes focused on the group, he stepped to the doorway and turned his head. The keys hit the floor a moment later, and his jaw was metaphorically there a moment later.

The room itself wasn’t super deep, though he imagined that it could be changed. Mounted on the wall directly in front of him were six of the biggest screens he’d ever seen, including in that hellhole of Mt Weather. Below that, there was a badass desk the size of half the Ark, with monitors and tools and various electronic odds and ends on it. What really took his breath away, other than the screens, were the boxes. Sitting on the desk were four identically marked cardboard boxes. Had she found some perfectly preserved shopping mall or something? It was the towers for four desktop computers.

Moving closer, he saw the specs printed on the boxes and almost cried. These were better than Mt Weather had, hell they were better than what the Ark had as workstations. He started to turn back to ask Clarke where they’d found them, when boxes against the right wall caught his eye. Moving forward like lightning, he first noted the large black rails that had been fastened to the floor and ceiling. There had to be twenty, each precisely placed. He could even see where the floor had been marked to ensure it was done right. The boxes though, they were the prize. Stacked ten high, there were five rows of them, the top box cut open the contents not exposed. As he reached inside the box, more light flooded the room as Clarke opened the curtains.

“Thanks. I guess ruining my eyes now would be too cruel a joke.” The smile wouldn’t leave his face, and it was starting to hurt.

Pulling out the moderately heavy contents of the box, wrapped in a special type of plastic, he moved it to his desk (HIS DESK!) and set it down. Carefully unwrapping it, inch by inch, the plastic gave way to the sexiest sight he had ever seen. It was a server. Examining it front and back, he could see the keys taped to it that locked the front panel in place. Pressing the release tabs on the sides, the panel came away revealing the storage drives in hot-swap bays. Pulling one, he noted the capacity and read/write speeds on the label, eyes bugging out.

“This is faster than anything we had on the Ark. Clarke, where, how, just how?”

“I’m not sure if any of you are aware of geography, but Polis and Mount Weather are in Virginia. Historically, a lot of other things were in Virginia, since we were so close to the nation’s capital. It was a very high tech area, with server farms and lots of government facilities. The servers and desktops though, those came from a place near the coast. The main part of the complex was almost completely destroyed, but several of the storage areas were intact. These, and a few more of the surprises for you, were from what appeared to be a secure storage facility. The complex was a base, Norfolk Naval Base.”

Hearing the name, Monty just looked at her. That meant that this was cutting edge military shit. No wonder the specs were off the charts. When you had an unlimited checkbook, you bought the best. Eyeing the back of the server, he also saw what he now expected to see, a thousand gigabit hyperfiber connection. The processors, the storage, the speed, the redundancy, this would be more processing power than Mt Weather and the Ark combined. Looking at Raven, he put on his best puppy dog pout.

“Ray…. you know what this means. Power Ray, we need power and fast. Can you imagine what this gear can do?”

“Yeah, jack shit without power, and then not much else without anything to connect to.”

“That’s totally harsh Ray. Don’t be a buzzkill, Buzzkillington!”

Raven put her arm around his shoulders “Soon, we’ll have power soon. You’re gonna help, right?”

“Hell yes! I’m not as good with hardware as you are, but with all this tech and the stuff in your workroom, we should be able to make a permanent fix and program whatever we need to so that the power system purrs like a kitten. I think we’re going to have to rewire this floor though, don’t want overloads and the power needs to be clean.”

Nodding, understanding exactly what he meant, Raven looked around. Spotting two double-doors off to the side, she nudged Monty and gestured with her head towards them.

Seeing where he was going to head next, Clarke spoke up “So, in there is the super big gift Monty. I need you to understand a couple of things before you see what’s in there. I didn’t understand the specifics, but I did recognize enough of the wording to know how valuable it will be, if you can get it working. In fact, a lot of what we talked about before we left Arkadia will be helped if you make it work. That being said, we don’t know if the other end of things is working, so please don’t get your hopes up yet, okay?”

Nodding, having no idea what she meant but understanding that it tied into her totally awesome plans that he still needed to talk to her about later, he moved to the door. Not having the slightest bit of patience like EVER, he flung them open. Inside was a massive crate, with several smaller ones beside it. At this distance, the only legible markings spelled out two things, both acronyms.

MUOS5

MILSTAR12

Now, as an adult and a dude, there are certain things you don’t do. Screeching at a high enough pitch to cause everyone in the room, even Lincoln, Anya, and Lexa to cover their ears, that was one of them. The other was flinging yourself across the distance and literally mouth kissing the crate while clutching it like a lover. A very prized and talented lover.

“Ugh, Monty GROSS!”

“Raven you don’t even understand, do you know what this is? MUOS and MILSTAR are the military’s satellite systems! Like spy satellites and communication and cell phones and data networking but no cell towers needed. They’d just launched the last of the MUOS Five satellites before the Ark went up. This is literally the very very last and greatest satellite system Earth has. With the right handhelds, you could have battlefield communication, data transmission rates good enough to live stream at 4k anywhere on Earth, and enough left over to shop at Amazon in another tab! Not only that, but the network tied into the old MILSTAR system, so the entire military defense network operated off of MUOS. Do you know what this means Clarke? We can do it, with this equipment and this uplink and the server power in the other room, just give me a week and you’ll have it all.”

Smiling, Clarke relaxed against the other wall, a load lifted from her shoulders. If it were possible, if they could do it, it would give them a chance, a fighting chance.

Octavia didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, but she was happy for Monty. He and Raven both seemed to be getting what they needed to really do their thing. Octavia just wondered what Clarke wanted to be buying them off so obviously.

Staying in the back with Lexa and Lincoln, she kept her thoughts to herself, leaning slightly into Lincoln’s arm.

Anya, on the other hand, was right next to Raven, observing everything, trying to pick up what she could. You didn’t last long commanding warriors if you didn’t use every tool you had available.

“So these devices allow you to talk over great distances, like the radios that the Sky People and the mountain used?” The question was directed at Raven, but she and Monty each answered part.

“Yes, but it will be a lot more powerful. Because the signal will be so much stronger, and not have interference, the voices will be very easy to recognize.” Monty said, keeping things simple.

“Not just that babe, but remember how the radios didn’t work behind hills and things?” Raven turned deep red after he slip, but resolved herself to ignore it. As Anya smirked but nodded, she continued.

“These won’t have that problem. The signal is coming from space, so no matter where you’re standing, it’ll still reach even with all the mountains everywhere. The only time you’d lose signal would be super deep underground, but anywhere that deep would probably be a military bunker anyway and be receiving the signal already.”

Nodding, Anya continued “And you would be able to speak at greater distance, such as from Polis to TonDC, or even Polis to one of the other clans?”

“Exactly, once we can build some radios that work with the signal, you could take that radio anywhere, literally anywhere and still be able to talk to anyone else with one.”

As they were talking, Monty undid the latches and cracked the seal on the larger crate.

“Uh, Lincoln? Can you help me here please? Yeah, just the other side and we’ll lift straight up.” Lincoln moved from by the door, assuming the position that Monty had gestured to. The crate had a three foot tall lid, and each side was four feet long, so the lid was cumbersome. Nodding at Monty, they lifted at the signal, moving the lid to the side and setting it on the floor.

Lincoln stepped back as everyone gathered around to inspect what had been inside. Moving aside some plastic, Monty pulled out a metal and plastic mesh panel, one of many identical ones.

“These get assembled together and become the dish. Because it uses a mixture of two different frequency ranges, it has to be a bit bigger and the transponder at the center will actually have two parts.” He picked through things, carefully setting aside some parts and mumbling to himself as he went.

“I can’t believe it, it’s all here. This must’ve been waiting to be sent somewhere close. I know they were going to have ground stations, one was going to be in the US.”

Clarke decided to speak up, confused “Yeah but, if that’s the entire satellite uplink in that crate, what are the other three about? I mean they have the same MUOS and MILSTAR markings on them, but then MPT below that.”

The reaction from Monty was instant, and if he kept jerking his head that quickly, he was going to break his neck “WHAT? MPT are you sure?” He darted to one of the crates and clutched at it before he stopped, took a deep breath, and tried to open in. The lid wouldn’t budge.

“Uh, General Anya? Could you lend me one of you knives please?” Monty asked, having heard of Anya’s reputation not only as a hardass but also as someone you don’t fuck with.

Anya raised an eyebrow, taking note of he respectful tone in his voice and his politeness when addressing her. Yes, she decided, Raven could’ve done a lot worse in choosing him as a friend. As far as Skaikru went, he seemed a hell of a lot more useful, more respectful, and less rude than any of the others not in this room. Nodding, she walked over and used a dagger to slice through the tape holding the lid on the crate, moving down the line and doing the same with the other two. They’d have to be opened eventually, she reasoned.

Returning to stand next to Raven, she leaned slightly into her and waited to see what the boy would reveal.

Sliding the lid off the crate, Monty found twenty identical individually packaged items. Using his fingertips to lift one free, he found the same markings on it, FUOS MPT, but this time, the MPT was spelled out. Man Personal Transceiver. The squeal made a reappearance. Opening the smaller box, he began unpackaging what he found. There were several styles of headsets and microphones, from wired all-in-one types to completely wireless earbuds that sensed your voice through your skull vibrations. FInally, he pulled out the prize. It was a small, handheld device which appeared unremarkable to Anya’s eyes, but by Raven’s excited “Holy shit!” and her move to snatch it from him, it must be something valuable indeed.

Removing the plastic from around it, Raven held it in her hand. It looked like a cell phone, but with glass and screen on both sides and all around the edges. In the center of the screen was a sticker and a big X. The sticker read PRESS HERE. Of course Raven pressed it.

Nothing happened. Raven looked like someone had kicked a puppy. She shook it around, then pressed it again, still nothing.

Monty, having been reading through the manual while Raven played with the unit, looked up to see her escalating annoyance with it. Before she could chuck it against the wall, he stepped forward and snatched it back from her. Before she could do much more than yell “Hey!”, he walked over to the window.

Drawing back the curtain, he stood with the unit in the sunlight for about five seconds. He then followed the direction and pressed.

A chime echoed through the room, and Raven’s pout and outrage instantly turned into excitement as she quickly moved over next to Monty. As they watched, the fastest boot sequence they’d ever seen scrolled over the screen. Once that finished, a US Navy logo appeared for a moment, before the screen settled on a few words.

SATELLITE CARRIER NOT DETECTED. INITIATE PEER-TO-PEER NETWORK? (Y/N):

Shrugging, Monty hit Y. A moment later the screen changed.

NO OTHER UNITS WITHIN RANGE. CONTINUING TO SCAN. SOLAR CHARGING IN PROGRESS. BATTERY LEVEL 17%. ESTIMATED CHARGING COMPLETE 11 M - 04S.

“That’s a hell of a good solar cell and battery” Raven said. Nodding, Monty agreed “Yeah, your tax dollars at work. Only the best.”

Looking back over at the group, Monty noticed Anya, Clarke, Lexa, and even Octavia pulling out their own packages. After doing the same, Monty checked the other two crates. As expected, the other two crates also contained the individual portable units.

“So to make this work, to tie it into the satellite system, we’ll need to assemble and mount this on top of the building.” Monty explained.

After putting her cell phone in the window to charge, along with one for Lexa, Clarke spoke up “Yes, and you might not have seen this on the plans Raven, but the tower itself is an antenna for a bunch of different radio bands. All we need to do is tie a transmitter into it and power it and the signal would reach hundreds of miles. I mean it is a hundred stories high. Monty, we got you other radio and transmitting gear too, just sort through it when you have time. So, those were the big surprises. What do you think?”

Grinning and moving over to her, looking bashful but overcoming it, he reached out and hugged Clarke, shocked at how strong she felt. “Thanks Clarke. Between Raven and me, we’ll have you talking to the moon and playing Minecraft in no time.”

Chuckling, she turned to Octavia. “What do you think O? Not quite the stone-age civilization we assumed them to be two years ago. Hot running water, and soon lights and even radios.”

“I mean yeah, it’s a lot to take in. I guess I was expecting Polis to just be like TonDC, or I guess the part we saw, just a lot bigger. How long have you had people out looking for this stuff?”

“Probably somewhere between nine months and a year. After coming here, I realized that a lot of my assumptions were wrong, and ignorant. A lot of what’s held the people back though was the old Flamekeeper. The records that were kept would’ve helped them so much over the years, but the fat natrona bastard was afraid of what technology would do. After I killed him”

Shocked, Octavia interrupted “You killed the Flamekeeper?! Lincoln told me that that’s one of the highest positions in the Coalition.”

“Yes, but like I said, he was a traitor. After I killed him, we discovered so many things he’d kept hidden, from the people and from Lexa. Some people think that burying your head in the sand is a good strategy, but ignoring problems doesn’t make them go away.”

Turning her head as she heard a chime, she moved over and collected the phones that she’d left on the window ledge for her and Lexa. Repeating the startup process that she’d seen Monty do, she brought both phones on. After they loaded, she was presented with the same screen as the previous phone had displayed.

SATELLITE CARRIER NOT DETECTED. INITIATE PEER-TO-PEER NETWORK? (Y/N):

Pressing Y on both devices, she waited. Almost immediately, a new message was displayed.

PEER DEVICES FOUND! (2) PEER-TO-PEER NETWORK INITIATED.

As the others moved to turn on their phones, Clarke handed Lexa her’s. Waiting until all the phones were on, all of their screens updated at once.

PEER-TO-PEER NETWORK ESTABLISHED WITH 7 NODES.

SECURE COMMUNICATIONS: ONLINE

ENCRYPTED VOICE COMMUNICATIONS: ONLINE

ENCRYPTED TEXT COMMUNICATIONS: ONLINE

ENCRYPTED FILE SHARING: ONLINE

PLEASE ENTER A UNIQUE IDENTIFIER FOR THIS NETWORK:

-KONGEDA

Clarke suddenly had a thought, and went to grab more phones. As Lexa, Raven, and Monty looked at her questioningly, she explained after lining up another six in the sun.

“There are others we’ll want to be able to talk to. I know the range won’t be great without the satellites at this point, but, depending on when you guys get the power on, that could change at any time. We’ll want to get people familiar with them, and talking to each other in Polis wouldn’t be a problem. I figure Indra, Nyko, Aden, Kane, Sinclair, and Ryder should get them too.”

Lexa needed, agreeing with the list of people. There would be more, of course, such as Luna, Roan, and the other clan leaders, but that could wait until the range issue was solved.

Clarke decided they needed more information “Monty, you had the book for these things. Can you see what kind of range they have in peer to peer mode?”

“Sure Clarke, give me a sec.”

Looking down, Clarke noticed her screen had changed.

NO IDENTIFIERS OR RFID TAGS WITHIN RANGE. MANUALLY ENTER UP TO FIVE DESIGNATORS FOR THE USER OF THIS UNIT:

“Monty, I think it wants to know our names, like so it knows who’s using what unit. Is that because they’re more like radios than phones, so we don’t have individual phone numbers?”

“Right Clarke, and in the old world military, their ID’s would transmit a signal that the radio could read and identify them that way. Since we don’t have that, we should put in anything someone’s likely to call us on the radio so that it directs the call to the right place.”

“Okay, got it. Let’s all do that and then we can test things.”

Clarke went about entering any name or nickname she could think of. The first to go into her radio? Wanheda, then Clarke, then Clarke Griffin, then Clarke kom Trikru. Finally, she entered Clarke W Griffin and HBIC as a joke. Smiling, she turned to Lexa and looked at her screen.

Commander

Heda

Lexa

Leksa kom Trikru

Leksa kom Kongeda

Looking around, it appeared that everyone else was doing the same. She saw Raven giggling at Anya, and wondered what those two were up to.

Raven’s screen, after showing Raven Reyes, showed FUCKING AWESOME. Anya’s, in addition to her name, also listed her as General Anya and, after Raven snatched her phone and typed, Cheekbones. In retaliation, Raven’s phone now listed ANNOYING SKY BRAT.

Lincoln entered his information in a very straightforward manner. Octavia’s listed her name, and, when no one was looking, she typed in SHOULD BE WANHEDA and FUTURE HEDA.

Once all the names were entered, Clarke decided to test the radios before someone else did. Octavia got to be the first on Earth after 97 years, Clarke wanted this one.

Lifting the radio to her face, she tried a voice command: “Call Lexa”, and waited.

Lexa’s radio immediately began to make a trilling sound and vibrated slightly. The screen changed to WANHEDA CALLING, with a spot to press to either accept or reject it. She accepted.

What neither were expecting was that the entire screen changed. Both could now see the other, in startling detail. It seemed the radios were also cameras, damned good cameras.

Looking up from the manual to see Clarke making a funny face at Lexa before hanging up, he had his answer.

“Okay, so depending on terrain and whether you want a voice call or video, the range changes. Also, the technology in these things is amazing. Without the satellites, and with seven units in use, the range should be about one hundred fifty miles. That depends on mountains in the way, but that’s about the best you’ll get. Now, I say with seven units because each one adds to the range of the others. They combine signal power to give it a little extra boost, so like Kane could voice call us, but since he’s got Sinclair there too, the two radios together might get a video signal through, just not a perfect one.”

After hearing the range, the room got quiet. Typically, it was Raven that spoke up. “That’s fucking amazing! We could reach Arkadia, or TonDC, just with the radios as they are now. And they’re secure right Monty?”

“Yep, absolutely secure. Because we’re all in the same room turning these on, it’s made it easier, but anyone else wanting to join this network separately will have to provide a key to unscramble our signals.”

Nodding her head, Lexa was impressed. It would allow a great deal better communication, it was secure so that enemies could not intercept messages, and it let her see her hodness even when they were separated. All in all, she loved the radios.

“So, Lexa, let’s send messengers to Indra, Kane, and Sinclair with radios for them. The messengers can explain what they are, and tell them to have the radios on them at a set time in a few days. We can call them on the radio then and demonstrate how they work.”

“That is a good idea Clarke. I will go summon a courier and get Ryder.”

Clarke finished setting up the phones for the others, setting Ryder’s to the side and grabbing Indra’s, Kane’s, and Sinclair’s.

“Okay, that’s pretty much everything I had for today in terms of gifts. Raven and Monty, I wanted to show you both a few things, including the power systems vault in sublevel four. That’s where we think the problem is with the building’s power. If you’re up to it, I figure you guys can take a look tonight, and then after dinner I can introduce you to the maintenance crews. They can go through the parts and spares and find what you think you might need.”

They both nodded. Monty couldn’t wait to get started, excited to get the power back on and make use of everything Clarke had given him. Raven, also excited, had other immediate plans though as she eyed Anya up and down.

Lexa returned quickly, Ryder and another man in tow. “Clarke, this is Sten. He is one of our fastest horsemen and is my favored messenger and courier.”

Sten, all six foot nine of him, towered over them all. His blonde hair was much darker than Clarke’s, and his beard was truly impressive, actually braided in a way that somehow made him look even more manly and badass. Hearing his Heda’s words, he promptly blushed as dark as a tomato, Ryder standing behind him turning away to hide his mirth.

In an impossibly deep and rich voice, Sten responded “You honour me Heda, I merely do my best to serve you. Wanheda, it is my true honour to meet you.” As he finished his sentence, Sten dropped to his knees and bowed his head. While it didn’t happen every time she met someone new, Clarke had come to accept that it happened from time to me. She didn’t mind it anymore, and Wanheda seemed to like it. Just one of those things about being part of her people’s spiritual beliefs. Unfortunately, it seemed that some of her people were severely lacking in both cultural understanding and respect. And common fucking sense.

“Oh look, someone else is going to suck Clarke’s cock, as if she’s the second coming”.

Chapter Text

Octavia, already off-kilter from all the revelations that day about the grounders, had observed the bear of a man drop to his knees in front of Clarke. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to give Clarke shit, whether it was for her willingness to sacrifice her, or for Clarke upstaging her by landing the Commander, or even by having a body that Octavia could only dream of having, she just had to speak. Hell, maybe it was for the beating she took on the way to Polis. Whatever it was, it was too much envy and not enough respect, and so she spoke.

Not a sound was heard after that in the room. Even as both Lexa and Anya started to reach for their weapons, she could see the look of resignation register on Lincoln’s face.

Between one blink and the next, she was no longer standing where she was. Before Lexa or Anya’s hands had even touched their weapons, Octavia was against the far wall, her feet dangling four inches off the floor, and Clarke’s face alarmingly close to her own.

Octavia saw Clarke tilt her head, as if listening to something only she could hear. A moment later Clarke looked up, and Octavia realized that she was dealing with something else entirely. The blue eyes, always so beautiful, were different. It was as if the blue was now metallic, a silveriness to them that she’d never seen before. And then Clarke smiled. Looking into those eyes, the eyes of something far removed from a blonde girl from the sky, seeing that smile, Octavia felt herself shiver, sweat breaking out over her skin. If anything, the smile grew wider.

Both Lexa and Anya approached from behind. Anya was staring in open fascination, for it was not every day that Wanheda displayed her strength. She doubted she could hold the girl that high, and definitely not for that long, let alone with the steadiness and apparent lack of effort that Wanheda was showing.

As Lexa reached her wife, she tried to swallow her own anger at Octavia, knowing that no matter what happened, this was now Wanheda’s show. Looking to the side, she saw her brother looking on with fearful concern. Were he still the same man she knew him to be, his mind and heart would be filled with prayers to spare Octavia.

Leaning in, Wanheda took a deep breath through her nose, humming to herself. “You smell of arousal and terror, Octavia kom Trikru. Is it possible that you enjoy this powerless feeling? Do you need a strong hand, hmm?”

Rearing her head back, she wondered how Clarke could tell what she was feeling. Trying to push the jealousy and arousal to the side, she raised her hand as if to slap or punch her way out of this, but before she could get far, Lincoln was rushing forward, yelling “No! Do not attempt to strike her or she will likely tear your arm off.”

Grinning, Wanheda looked back up at Octavia “And quite right he is. Don’t try to hide little Octavia, I see right through you. Yes, you think Clarke is undeserving, that she has not suffered for such a gift as to carry Wanheda, to BE Wanheda. You think your life is like one of those stories your brother read to you, that your suffering was a ticket to better things. You think you should be the one with power, that you should be revered. This body attracts you and your limitless jealousy poisons you to all the good she has done for you. She was once your close friend, but how long was it until you didn’t need her anymore and pushed her away. Yes, the missile. The excuse to become angry at her. That was when the jealousy took root, when you saw that it was her, not you that was working with Heda. It was her, not you that was planning the attack on the mountain, that single-handedly brought the mountain down. It was her, not you that shared Heda’s bed, her heart. And it was her, not you that came to power, that rules at Heda’s side, that has the body and strength and power and will to do what is necessary to win and help her people.”

Octavia was too shocked to speak, too gutted by the truth of the words to react beyond the tears running down her face, so she said nothing.

Studying Octavia as a lion might study the smallest prey, turning her head this way and than, Wanheda decided.

“Lincoln kom Trikru. You will teach her of the Spirits, the beliefs of our people that she was required to learn before joining us. You will ensure she understands the Flame and the Light, Heda and Wanheda. You will do this tonight, for tomorrow you will train her in combat. She has had more than two years to learn the blade, but you will show her every trick, every move, give her every scrap of knowledge possible. For two days hence, she will meet me at the training fields. Together with Heda and fifteen of our finest guards, they all will battle against me in bosh soulou gonplei. The combat of the one against the many. Think carefully, Lincoln kom Trikru, how you claim to love his girl yet did not teach her our beliefs, and think of this girl, who says she loves you yet asked nothing as you prayed night after night.”

Dropping Octavia to the ground as if she were garbage, Octavia’s shaking legs immediately gave out, dropping her on her ass. She stared up at Clarke, as if seeing her in a new light, but it was not enough.

“Take her and complete your orders Lincoln kom Trikru. Should I see her before two days hence, her life is forfeit.”

“Sha Wanheda.” Lincoln knew then that his prayers had been answers, for if not, Octavia would surely be dead. As he passed Wanheda to collect Octavia, he received a knowing look and a smile from Wanheda. Nodding his head respectfully, thankful that she had listened, he picked up Octavia and dragged her from the room.

Clapping her hands, Clarke started everyone. “So, that was fun! Where were we? Oh yes, Sten, please rise.” Waiting as he did so, only slightly shaky after having spent all that time kneeling, she addressed him again.

“We are sending an item to Chief Indra. Once it is delivered, after you return, I will send you to the Skaikru camp to deliver two more. In light of what has just happened, I would like you to make the journey as soon as possible. This is not an emergency, and you should not injure yourself or a horse by making all possible speed. I would like the item in Indra’s hands by sun-up. You may then rest in TonDC and have a meal before returning to Polis. Take this message to Indra.”

Here Clarke paused, waiting until he nodded slightly that he was ready. Without a written language, it was up to a messenger’s memory to relay things. Making sure that they were ready to listen tended to help.

“Chief Indra, I deliver to you a piece of tek. It will allow us to speak over great distance. I will explain how to use it, but have it in hand at exactly midday on the day it is delivered. It will change color and say Wanheda. You are to touch your finger to the place that glows green. Once it changes, hold it to your ear and we will speak.”

He nodded, indicating that he’d committed the message to memory. Next, she demonstrated how Indra should hold it in her hand, then how she should hold it to her ear. Finally, she demonstrated what it would look like when the call came through, and how to accept it.

“Do you understand what I’ve shown you and the message you’re to relay?”

“Sha, perfectly Wanheda. The message and demonstrations were clear. I can have my horse readied and leave within the hour. As it is near the evening meal, and it takes a half day to reach TonDC, I should arrive just before first meal. She will have the item in her hands by that time, I swear it.”

“Mochof, Sten. Here is the item. It is quite durable, so even if it is dropped or gets wet, do not fear that it is ruined. Should anything happen, use it to contact me by saying ‘call Wanheda’, with the item near your mouth.”

“Sha, Wanheda.” Sten said, bowing once again to her, then to Heda, then taking his leave.

Holding up a hand to stop whatever Raven was about to say, “We’ll talk about it at dinner if we have to. In the meantime, with the time we have left, I’d like to show you the power systems so you can take a look tomorrow. Any tools you think you might need feel free to get.”

Raven and Anya left to collect what Raven would need, and Monty went through his own area, finding tools for himself including a voltage meter.

They met up again outside Monty’s door and made the trek to the sublevels via the elevator. Again, Monty and Raven were impressed by the area, and took a few minutes to look around. Raven, using her own meter, quickly checked the power coming in from the battery room. She traced it all the way to a computerized panel that appeared to be “the switches” discussed earlier. That was where the power stopped. She and Monty discussed it for a few minutes, deciding on what to do the next day. As they were leaving, a few of the maintenance people showed up. Introducing Raven and Monty, she explained what repairs they hoped to accomplish.

That conversation continued for several more minutes, with Monty and Raven relaying to the maintenance team what to look for in terms of spare parts. Once finished, they parted ways, with Lexa, Clarke, Raven, Anya, Monty and Ryder riding the elevator back up to the dining room on floor ninety-five.

As the guards opened the doors, they moved to seat themselves, Lexa at one end of the table and Clarke at the other. It was one of the smaller dining rooms, so only a few seats were empty, Octavia and Lincoln’s absence conspicuous.

Of course Raven was the first to speak “Alright, I’ll just say it. That was pretty fucked up with O said. I’m not defending it, not even a little, but are you going to kill her for it?”

“No Raven. Despite what some in this room might think, If I was going to kill her for her disrespect, I’d either have done it immediately or put her on a post already. This is about learning respect and it’s a lesson that’s long overdue. She has her own problems, a lot of them, and she’s not going to get over them until someone tears her down so she can build herself back up the right way. She has a lot of growing up to do.”

“Wanheda is right Raivon. A warrior of the Kongeda cannot be allowed to show such disrespect to a superior. Not only that, but Wanheda is her commanding officer, which makes it worse. Another point against Octavia is who Wanheda is, as a figure in our beliefs. Finally, it is made much worse by the fact that she and Wanheda used to be close and that Wanheda has given her chance after chance. She has earned what is coming to her. The only two options left, should this fail, are banishment and death. If she is banished, it will be from all Coalition lands. She would have to go to the badlands, or farther. At that point, death would be a mercy.”

At that point, Monty spoke up “I wasn’t that close with her back at, well Arkadia now. You two used to be so close, then right before the mountain that changed. I’ve heard the story but yeah, it totally wasn’t the missile. People, leaders, have to make choices in battle and letting a few hundred die to bring down the mountain was the right call. Do you really think it’s jealousy, like uh, Wanheda said?”

Lexa nodded, adding her thoughts “I do. I have seen people in the past, with an inflated sense of self-importance. Look at Titus.” At this, Anya snorted and nodded. “People convince themselves that they are the star of the show, when they are really just a minor recurring role. They can have an important impact, but they aren’t mature enough, complex enough, to carry the story. This is what Octavia is. She imagined herself some heroic knight of old, that she would join our people and become the ultimate warrior, that she would join with Lincoln and be seen with admiration by my people and yours.”

“When none of that happened, she had to have someone to blame. Clarke was there, succeeding in joining our peoples together. She was stealing my heart” Lexa smiles at Clarke “and she was bringing utter doom upon the mountain. She saved our great general” here Anya hummed, looking at Wanheda and nodding in respect “and she saved the general’s seken. She cured Lincoln of the incurable madness, she secured land and peace for the Arkers. After the mountain, she did so much more, ending Titus, destroying Nia, helping to remake the conclave. Everything that Octavia wishes she could be and do, Clarke is and has done. By utterly defeating Octavia in battle, this time in a fight of seventeen to one with no holds barred, Octavia will have no choice to see what we all know. Wanheda chose Clarke, and she is the ultimate warrior, for that is what it is to be Wanheda.”

“Just as you are the perfect commanding general, and that is what it is to be the Flame, to be Heda, standing beside that warrior every day of her life.” Clarke added.

It was at that moment that Raven decided it had gotten too sappy and made a retching noise. When it seemed to echo from in front of her, she looked up to see Anya making the same noise. Both burst out laughing, followed by the rest of the table, with even Lexa chuckling.

Their food arrived, and all talk of Octavia was put aside. Monty and Raven must have been having a contest, Lexa decided, to see who cold make the most obscene noises while consuming their food. Such an odd people, but they did grow on you.

They were eating an amazingly tasty Buffalo steak, medium rare, with roasted vegetables. Monty kept shifting oddly in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position for his food boner.

Raven decided that grounder food had to have some kind of fucking magic in it.

“So, tomorrow while Raven works on the power, why don’t you get your servers mounted Monty? I’ll send up a group of the maintenance guys that helped find the stuff so they’ll treat the equipment right. Once you show them how to attach the rails and get it on the racks, I’d like you to take a few and get that uplink up on the roof. That won’t take long, including the assembly, but remember you’re going to have to string fiber and power to it.”

Nodding, Monty added “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I don’t think it’ll take long for Raven to figure things out now that we’ve isolated it. Once the power’s on, we’ll want to get to work ASAP in owning the military network.”

“Can you finally tell us what all this President shit is about Clarke?”

Knowing that her friend was just frustrated, and hated being left in the dark, she decided to throw her a bone.

“Short version, there’s…” sighing, “okay, medium version. Mount Weather was a bitch, it had missiles and acid fog and an office for the President, so obviously military, right?”

Raven nodded, the answer obvious.

“Wrong. No, hear me out Ray. Mount Weather was part of the continuity plan for the U.S. government, but it was not a military bunker. According to all the information we’ve gathered from the old world, Mount Weather was the bunker designated for the Centers for Disease Control and for FEMA, the disaster relief agency. That’s why there was so much freaky medical shit inside, because it was supposed to be the place to study outbreaks in an emergency.”

Clarke waited for a few moments for that to sink in before continuing “I know it had an office for the President, but I’m willing to bet that almost all government bunkers did. No, if you’ve ever seen pictures of a military bunker, one designed to operate as a command center for the entire US military in the event of armageddon, you’d know that Mount Weather wasn’t it. Not enough computers, not enough of a control room or command center. Not enough armaments, not enough security, not enough secure space. After looking through the old records, we’ve found two places that fit that description. Basically, they’re like an underground Pentagon, capable of deploying all of our remote arsenal and directing the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines all over the world, with communications and satellite controls out the ass. I bet you’ve heard of one. Cheyenne Mountain, also known as NORAD.”

Raven was floored. Of course she knew Cheyenne Mountain, and now that she thought of that place, the smallness, the wrongness of Mount Weather instantly rang out in her mind. Those two places were nothing alike except being underground. She was frustrated for having thought that piece of shit bunker was the best the US could do.

“Okay, I’ll bite, since I don’t think we’re going to Colorado any time soon. The other one, the other ‘underground Pentagon’, it’s close, isn’t it?”

Grinning, Clarke nodded. “It’s amazing how many things are close to Polis. The Navy base I mentioned, all kinds of computer centers, satellite communications stations, national guard armories, and even several bunkers. The one we want, the one that makes Mount Weather look like a fucking dried up wishing well, is called Site R. Site R was literally the designated place that the military would be run from on the East Coast. If the President wasn’t going to be on Air Force One, he was going into Site R. It has command over every missile silo we have, every satellite the US runs, and has every piece of intelligence data possible.”

Raven sat there studying Clarke. There was something…. Clarke was holding something back and it was making her giddy, like the only person in on the joke.

“What? Just spit it out, I see it eating you up inside. What’s funny about Site R?”

“Site R is the nickname and the codename for the bunker. It’s real name is Raven Rock.”

Mouth open, Raven sat there while Monty laughed hysterically.

“God damned right they named the most kick-ass bunker after me, cuz I’m fucking awesome!” Nodding to herself, as if people a hundred years ago had predicted her fucking awesomeness in the years to come.

After everyone settled, Clarke finished her abbreviated explanation. “So, as you know, you can’t just stroll into a bunker, especially one that secure. I asked Monty, back in Arkadia, how he’d get someone into that bunker if he had to, and to give them access to use it. His idea was simplicity itself. Time marches on. As it does, every four years, elections used to happen for a new President. Monty’s idea is to slip into the military network and tell it that we’ve just had an election, with yours truly winning. That would instantly put me at the highest clearance level possible and let me access the bunker and everything it holds.”

Looking at Monty with respect, she leaned over and high-fived him. “That’s some seriously elegant and smart thinking dude. Ten points for Slytherin!”

“But, I’m confused, why do you need the bunker or control of it?” Raven asked. At this question, most of the people around the table deflated, and Monty sighed.

“Because, we need the satellites to see what’s happening out west. We’ve received a few disturbing reports. Report One, there are people beyond the western badlands, and they have weapons and tech. Report Two, said people are moving our way, with their guns and vehicles and tech, including machine guns and rocket launchers. Report Three, Thelonious Jaha is leading them.”

Well, that was a mood killer. It was almost enough to put Raven off her feed. No, no it wasn’t, but it wasn’t happy news.

“Can’t that piece of shit ever die? Bullets, deserts, this time I say we blow him up.”

“One way or another, he’s not walking away this time, I promise you that.” Clarke added.

“So, let me see if I have this right. I fix the power in the Tower, heh, and we use the tower and the toys to open up the military network. Once Monty does that, he feeds in an update that you’re now President. Once you’re President, we can access the spy satellites and see what’s what out west. Why not just use the satellites we have?”

For this, Monty spoke up. “Great question Raven, 10 for Hufflepuff. It won’t work. The satellites that MUOS will give us access to basically run the military Internet. What we need is a satellite control center that can give the satellites themselves commands. Retasking they call it. Changing orbits, scanning specific areas, sending pictures back. For that, we need Site R and actual observation satellites. There were other places that could do it, but even if they were still standing, you can bet that the systems were left on a war footing. If that’s the case, retasking is going to be locked down for everywhere but the most secure locations, and Site R is all that’s left within a thousand miles.”

Sighing, Raven admitted that Monty and Clarke’s thinking was impeccable. “How far is it exactly? And are there any natural barriers or anything that’ll piss on our wheaties on the way?”

Everyone knew what Raven was doing. If something could go wrong, it did go wrong. Hell, Clarke and Lexa had been out for a simple stroll when a nine million pound gorilla decided it wanted to skull fuck someone.

“It’s north, about two days’ ride. It’s near the summit of a mountain, but we’ve scouted the area at distance and there are several approaches. Unless a volcano pops-up between us and it in the meantime, it shouldn’t be any more difficult than the ride from here to Arkadia.”

Their amazing dinner finished, that brought the discussion to a close. Standing, Raven addressed her friends “Well, if I’m going to work miracles tomorrow, I’d better get some sleep. My leg is better but it’s not 100%. I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot of walking, crouching, kneeling and crawling in my future.”

Before she could say anything else, Clarke chimed in. “Maybe tell Anya to do the work in bed tonight. All that sounds like a bit too much in your condition.”

Monty laughed, Lexa smirked, Anya got some pink and looked annoyed at Clarke, and Raven grinned, coming around the table at Clarke. Reaching her, she leaned down and hugged her.

“I’m glad you’re back. Now, leave me the fuck along so I can go hump my grounder and fix your 1400 foot tall penis.”

With that, Raven took Anya’s arm and they left through the double doors. Monty stood, thanking Clarke again for all his new toys, and bid them goodnight.

Turning to Lexa, Clarke recalled what she was reminded of earlier “You know, we never did have sex in the cargo elevator.” Eyeing Lexa up and down, watching the flush spread across Lexa’s chest, she stood and extended a hand to her wife.

Turning to Clarke, Lexa responded “Do you think Ravon kom Skaikru knows that we fucked on every surface of her workroom?”

“Probably not love. Let’s tell her and Anya when it’s just the right time.”

After dragging her out of the room, Lincoln immediately marched towards the elevator. Signaling their destination, he turned back to her.

“I do not understand Octavia. Clarke has been your friend, defended you, defended us to everyone including your brother. She and Heda have lifted our punishment and allowed us to return to our people, free and well. She has defeated her mother, and your brother, and Pike. She has freed the Sky People to live free, to prosper. Why would you do this?

“Are you kidding me right now Linc? Everything she’s done has been for a reason. She defended me, defended us, to build favor and to piss Bell off. She did what she did at the Ark because the whole thing was reflecting badly on her, because her former people were turning into shit. And she brought us back to keep us under her thumb. I should be with Indra, and you should be in TonDC too.”

The elevator arrived and they both got in. Lincoln signaled they were ready and it began to drop to their floor.

“You believe that Clarke, that Wanheda, needs to have us under her control? She does have us under her control, whether it is here or in TonDC or any other Kongeda city Octavia. If Wanheda exists, then she rules by Heda’s side. It is the way of things. The only way we would not be under Wanheda’s command is if we left the Kongeda entirely, headed west beyond the scorching badlands. Other than Heda, everything and everyone in the Coalition is under Clarke’s control.”

They stepped out of the elevator and continued to their room, not speaking until they were inside.

“And that’s another thing, who decided Clarke was this mystical Wanheda? I bet it was Lexa” at his look, she backtracked “I mean Heda, I bet she got the rumor started after the mountain. I mean Heda had just left us to die, and Bell and Clarke somehow pulled it off. I bet it was an apology for leaving her to die, to give her all this power to get Clarke to forgive her.”

“What do you mean, Bellamy pulled it off? He was not in the control room Octavia. Clarke shot Dante Wallace and destroyed the mountain on her own.”

“What? Bell told me he pulled the lever for her.”

“He did not. He had been wounded in the leg. A minor wound, but he insisted he could not continue. We left him with the Kongeda prisoners, in the care of Echo.”

“Oh, well, whatever. What did she even do to deserve to be Waheda?”

“That brings us to the instructions I was given. Let us sit and relax, as there is quite a bit I must explain about the Spirits, about Wanheda and Heda.”

“Look, Lincoln, you know I love you, but I’m not in for all that religious junk.”

“Octavia, even if I had not been told to do this, even if I could ignore the command and not suffer dishonor for it, don’t you think it’s time that you learned about our beliefs? You’ve called yourself Trikru proudly for two years. To do that, you must at least know about my people’s faith.”

Sighing, she realized that she wasn’t going to get out of this discussion, not this time. This whole relationship thing was a lot more fun when people were screaming at her not to do it. Getting comfortable, she gave Lincoln her attention.

Over the next three mind numbing hours, Lincoln explained their mythology, which was less myth than it was reality that happened over the last hundred years. About how Heda, the Flame, led their people as the ultimate Commanding General, and about Wanheda, the Light, fought for their people as the Ultimate Warrior, commanding death to those who stood against their might.

To be honest, she did think that it was compelling. The entire problem with it, the reason it went from an exciting story to an annoyance, was that half of it was apparently about Clarke, or so Lincoln believed. As she’d said before, fighting tricks and insane body aside, they had no real proof that Clarke was Wanheda. She’d asked who got picked as Wanheda’s host. His answer was vague, talking strength of will, determination, dedication to the people, and endurance of pain and suffering on a level that should and would kill anyone else. Even assuming bad shit had happened to Clarke while she’d been gone, Octavia knew it couldn’t have been that bad, bad enough to justify Clarke being picked for what was the co-equal ultimate honor in the eyes of the grounders. If she had a shred of self-awareness, she might’ve asked herself why she thought the word ‘grounders’ in her head instead of ‘my people’, but if that were true, she wouldn’t be getting a crash course in shit she should’ve learned in the first week of knowing Lincoln.

She had a bit more understanding by the time she went to sleep that night, enough to know that if the grounders believed that Clarke was Wanheda, it was best not to piss on that. It didn’t change the fact that she knew it wasn’t true. How can a year of anything compare to her life in the floor, or losing that one kid to the acid fog. Adam? Atom, yeah. She really cared about him. It just wasn’t fair. She was with Lincoln before Clarke ever caught sight of a grounder. She took shit from everyone for it, so she should be the celebrity grounder pounder. Hell even Raven was in on grounders now for fuck’s sake.

Putting a sincere-looking smile on her face, she thanked Lincoln for teaching her about his beliefs. After eating dinner, she let him fuck her and then went to sleep.

Waking bright in the morning, Clarke and Lexa bathed, kissed, dressed, kissed, donned their crowns, kissed, forewent war paint, kissed, and exited their quarters to head to the same dining room they were in last night. Arriving, they found Raven, Anya, and Monty already there, looking bleary-eyed and drinking what appeared to be coffee.

“What happened to you guys? You left early enough to get good sleep” Clarke asked, concerned for her friends.

Anya grumbled, Monty hid his head more, and Raven just glared. Seeing that the look wasn’t going to have the desired effect, she spoke.

“You two happened, you filthy animals! We’re three floors down, that’s like forty-five feet! The moaning and screaming and yelling was bad enough, even with the windows closed, but how in the name of sunny baby Jesus did you manage to make rhythmic pounding somehow transfer through all that steel and concrete be heard, let alone felt, three floors down?! Half my candles, my glass of water, and a framed picture on the wall fell from the vibrations!!”

Lexa, previously looking bashful, suddenly took on a look of horror and mourning at the mention of the beautiful, innocent candles falling to the floor. She would have more brough to Raven’s quarters. And Monty’s. And her own.

“It’s not like you were the only ones trying to get busy last night. How the hell is anyone supposed to get it on when the damned triple crown sex olympics are going on above your head?”

“My Clarke is very strong, and energetic, and is dedicated to ensuring my complete, deep satisfaction.” Lexa loses her train of thought, staring at Clarke, remembering her wife thundering into her last night. She’s fairly sure the wall cracked, and she knows that bed frame will never be the same.

“Besides Raven kom Skaikru, I did warn you about the dangers of clam-jamming me” Lexa finished, a haughty look on her face.

“Oh for the love of Spirits not that stupid phrase again! Just because Wanheda called it a clam does not mean that you have to use that term every time!” Anya had had enough. Stupid sky saying.

A look of betrayal on her face, Lexa faced Anya “Look CHEEKBONES, at least I do not go around telling anyone who will listen about how sexy Raven looks when she blows people up, or walks by, or sneezes. You even said she looked sexy before the mountain when she was making that face from a distance, and Clarke later told us that Raven had bad gas!”

“HEY!”

“The last time you trapped someone into hearing about Raven it was a man sentenced to the stocks for a day. As I passed by an hour later, AN HOUR, he begged me to kill him or send him to the Ripas!”

Scowling, Anya stood from her seat and walked towards Lexa. Lexa, not backing down, did the same. As they stood there facing each other, staring the other down, Heda and former seken to General and former ticha, they suddenly launched themselves at each other. Anya went for the midsection, doing some kind of side-armed squeeze that you might see a retarded monkey perform, while Lexa, Commander of all she surveyed, got Anya in a loose and weird one-armed headlock.

As they continued, it became clear that Anya was attempting to give Lexa a wedgie, while Lexa began to noogie Anya, who began yowling from the friction to her scalp.

Having had enough of their antics, Clarke marched over and separated them, holding each an arm’s length away from the other. Looking at Anya, Clarke and, well, everybody could see the red splotch of irritated skin on her forehead, and her wildly messed-up hair accompanied by her scowl.

Looking at her wife, she noticed Lexa clawing at the lower back of her pants, trying desperately to pry her underwear, the waistband of which was now at nearly shoulder level, out from her crack. Those were never going to fit right again.

“Enough you two! Now, Lexa, you know that you can go on and on about me when the mood happens, right?” Pause “Right??”

“Yes Clarke” came the subdued reply.

“And Anya, you know that there are things that Raven says that you find cute and repeat over and over, aren’t there Cheekbones?”

….

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you.”

Sigh “Yes, Wanheda”.

“Good! See? You both have common ground. Now, I want you both to hug and apologize”

“What?!”

“No!”

“Shhhh! Do it. Hug, and apologize”.

Both Lexa and Anya reluctantly, bashfully approached each other. Awkwardly, they put their arms up in a very stiff attempt.

“Do it right you two. Hug and apologize”

Looking at each other, they embraced before each mumbled, in turn, a small little “Moba”.

“There! I’m proud of you both. Now, let’s all eat our breakfast.”

As both sat down, Clarke glanced at Raven. She was holding her hand over her mouth, the other hand holding the first in place, and she was beet red, tears streaming down her face. Glancing at Monty, his hair was standing straight up and his face registered the most shock she’d ever seen on a face before. In fact, it looked like someone had electrocuted him, and that he’d shat himself, at the same time.

Breakfast commenced after that, with everyone talking animatedly between themselves. It seemed that both Monty and Raven were over the moon with excitement to work on their respective projects. Anya would be assisting Raven, which was code for fucking her in closets, while Monty would have the help of the maintenance teams, which was code for having the help of the maintenance teams and not getting fucked in the closets.

Deciding that he could do with a little fucking in the closets, he recalled that there was a very attractive and buff female guard standing behind him and to his left. Putting on his most alluring look, which made him look like a camel in heat, he turned his head to make his move.

The boredom of guard shifts completely evaporated as the sky boy turned and locked gazes. Well, it had been a while. Why not? Smiling back at the boy, the reaction was not as expected, Monty sputtering and facing forward quickly. Lifting a fingernail, Ryder began trying to pick his teeth, sure that it must be the cause for the boy’s quick rebuff.

Lexa apparently had to sit through boring meetings, and Clarke said she needed to limber-up before Octavia’s big day. She also took the opportunity to inform Ryder, who appeared to be contemplating a beard trim, that there would be need for fifteen of the elite guard to be at the training grounds tomorrow. She didn’t need to explain more since Ryder was there for Octavia’s verbal diarrhea.

Everyone split off to go complete their tasks for the day. Monty mounted six of the servers himself, demonstrating one server for each of the pairs of workers that would assist. They were quick studies, and it wasn’t hard putting in sixteen screws and measuring to ensure proper placement and gap. The transponder had, in the meantime, been moved to the roof already. Gathering the tools he needed, including some ratchets that Raven had dropped by for him, he took his tool bag to the elevator and headed to the top floor. Once there, he asked a guard and was directed to the roof access. It was through a back hallway, and then he found very sturdy and surprisingly heavy duty stairs leading up. Instead of finding a trap door, he found an electronic door that had been opened and a pipe stuck between the sides to keep it open. Coming out onto the roof, he was careful not to dislodge the pipe.

Coming over to the side where the transponder/transceiver array would be mounted, he found a group of six waiting for him, already working on removing the parts from bags. Since the roof had a lip around it of approximately six feet, it ensured that the wind was barely felt and the parts were in no danger of blowing away.

The assembly went very quickly. They didn’t have enough tools for all six of them, but when one’s hand or wrist would tire, they’d trade off. After final assembly, the dish was ten feet across, three feet tall from base to lip, and it sat on a pedestal about five feet high. The entire thing was bolted together, then bolted to the pedestal, then bolted to the roof. There were also two closed loops under the dish, which they used to secure two safety ropes through. If anything happened to the pedestal, or if wind exceed the maximum 270 knots (yeah right), the ropes would prevent the dish from going off the roof.

With that complete, he moved on to wiring it. It wasn’t especially complex, but it did take time. The data and power cables for the dish were routed to a nearby junction box, then fed into a conduit that led from the roof. Cleaning up anything left behind and packing up his tools, they went back down to one oh one and started unspooling wire. Despite it only needing to go three floors, he unspooled a hundred feet. The maintenance men disappeared in utility closets and hidden access crawl spaces, feeding the cables where they were needed. Monty went to the electrical closet for that floor and began adding the power cable for the dish to the wires already found there. As he worked, he noticed that the wiring actually looked like it was in great shape. They had other maintenance teams inspecting the tower in advance of Raven’s Miracle™, as she liked to call it. They’d ensure that the wiring was either in working condition or that it was tagged and shut off.

Finishing, he moved back to ninety-seven and started wiring the transceiver into the system controller that was included with the dish. Fortunately, it was also rack-mountable, so it fight right into the racks, which now that he looked, were full.

Wiring the controller into the hyperfiber switch, he decided that he’d done all he could on that front. Pulling out his radio, he decided that he should start using it, and see if it was as good as advertised.

“Call Raven.”

…
…
“WHAT?!”

“Uh, hi Raven. Wow you sound really clear. Are you alright?”

Sigh “Fine Monty, I was just in the middle of something.” Clothes could be clearly heard rustling in the background, and he even made out a faint but clear mutter in Anya’s voice “Sky goufa and their timing. Clam-jammed dawn till dusk.”

“Uh, sorry if I interrupted anything. I just wanted to let you know the servers are wired and the dish is in place. Did you want any help with the power distribution?”

“No, it’s fine Monty. We worked through lunch, and I thought we actually had it licked” Anya’s uncharacteristic giggle “I thought we had the PROBLEM FIXED, but no joy. We were just about to head up for dinner.”

“Oh that sucks, yeah. I guess I could use food too, skipped lunch myself.”

He could hear mumbling, then cursing in the background as Raven was obviously losing her shit at something. The profanity finally reached a crescendo, at which point he heard what sounded like a hammer slamming against metal. That was the moment that glorious Heaven smiled upon mankind once again.

A deep, powerful hum was heard through the radio, with “Holy shit” coming over and over, at ever increasing volume from Raven. He could hear switches being flipped and buttons pushed.

“88%, that’s a fuckton of power! Where’s it going? Oh the bypass relay! No wonder nothing’s happening.”

“Uh Raven, what’s that noise? Are you okay down there?”

“One second Monty! Hold on to your dick!”

Glancing at the appendage in question, he decided that she wasn’t being serious. In the next instant he wished he had grabbed it.

The power came on. HOLY FUCK POWER!!!

He did nothing for a few moments, staring at the overhead lights that now functioned as something other than decorations.

A robotic feminine voice came through the radio.

“Conferencing all active units at command of WANHEDA.”

“Raven?! Monty! Holy shit guys!!!! You did it!”

“BECAUSE I’M FUCKING AWESOME BITCHES!!!!”

“Just make sure everything good then come to the throne room. Great fucking job Raven, you are awesome!”

Monty grabbed his meter and checked the power coming through to his heavy duty outlets. Everything seemed steady and clean. Still, not being one to take chances, he decided to go with his original plan. Every ten servers were plugged into a power conditioner. Like a battery backup on steroids, it also prevented spikes and signal noise from coming through the power lines. With ten of them in total, six for the servers and the remaining four for network switches, his massive monitors, and the desktops he hadn’t unpacked yet, the room was as safe electrically as he could make it. Moving to the desktops, he unpacked two and immediately got them wired for power and to connect to the network and monster screens.

Moving back to the racks, he flipped the main switch which would start power to all the devices. After the conditioners took a few moments to verify the power was good, they fed power to the servers and the rest. Immediately a sound that Monty hadn’t heard since the mountain filled the room. Cooling fans and the hum of electronics were like music to him. Standing back and looking at all the lit servers and flashing of fiber connections, he actually had to resist crying. This was his now. After years of struggle, his real best friend had returned and this was his life now.

Moving to the desktops, he powered them up and set up his admin rights to both. As he finished, a knock came to his door. Looking bewildered for a moment, he realized it was closed and locked.

Moving over, he opened it, finding Raven, Anya, Clarke, Lexa, and Ryder waiting outside. Shuffling for a second, he invited them in before closing and locking the door.

“What’s up guys? I thought we were meeting at dinner?”

“We were, but all of us knew what you’d do the second you got power. Have you tried MUOS yet?” Clarke asked, grinning at a blushing Monty.

“No, I was just bringing up the commands to access it. Wanna see?”

“Sure. How about you put it up on those huge screens? It took four guys to carry each of those by the way. I didn’t want any chance of dropping them. It’s not like 16k eighty inch 960 refresh monitors grow on trees once the world ends”. Okay, Clarke was semi nervous and babbling, but this was the moment they’d see if the effort and months of planning paid off.

Chuckling, Monty sat down in his gaming chair and started typing. The big screens came to life, and he brought up the command line for the transceiver. He entered the command to search for the satellites and waited.

And waited.

After what felt like forever, the response was almost anticlimactic.

Satellites Deployed: 5
Satellites Operational: 5
Reinitialize Network and Enable CommandNet? (Y/N)

Turning to explain “It looks like with no activity or, well, human activity, it’s put itself into a kind of low energy mode. It’s asking for permission to power back up to full operating capacity. Once it does, the radios will be on that network. They’ll keep working regardless, but once I tell it to reboot basically, the very next thing I have to do is hack back into it. It’s restarting and basically turning the locks back on, and we don’t have a key, well, not a legit one.”

Knowing there was no other way, had never been another way, there really was no choice. Turning to Monty fully, Clarke said with conviction “Do it.”

Hitting Y, in the very next moment the display changed to a graphical depiction of the network being reactivated, a net of signal being cast over first North America, and then the world. Everyone’s radios chimed. Looking at the screens, they saw the change immediately.

MUOS 5 MILSTAR 12 COMMAND NETWORK ONLINE
13 QUAD BAND MPT NODES DETECTED
IDENT TAGS UPLOADED
ENCRYPTED VOICE/VIDEO/DATA NETWORK ACTIVATED

“Monty, what did you say the range of these things is when they’re tied into the network?” Clarke asked.

“They basically don’t have a range, as long as you’re less than 300 miles above the Earth, you’re in range.”

“Okay, let’s head to dinner. Monty, I know you want to stay here and hack 24/7, but first you need food. Make sure that everything here is secure from any intrusion attempts. And I mean everything. Then come join us.” Turning, Clarke and the others filed out. Monty did as instructed, securing the network, then setting up a monitoring program for any satellite activity, to or from. Then he tapped into the building’s control systems and made sure that they were isolated and protected from any outside access. All that being done, he went to dinner happier than he’d been in a long long time.

Octavia was eating dirt, literally. From the moment she woke up, they’d been training. She didn’t understand why she was eating a dirt sandwich for the thousandth time today. She knew she was good, outstanding really.

“Tell me again why you’re kicking my ass this easy.”

Sighing, again, Lincoln answered her “I have trained you up until this point to fight gona, or ripa, or maunon. Tomorrow, you will not be fighting any of those. Tomorrow you do not fight a warrior, you fight THE warrior.”

“Right, but it’s Clarke, how hard can it be, right?”

He was beginning to wonder why he ever thought that her arrogance was endearing, or anything but suicidal.

“How hard was it when she beat you both other times?” he asked. By her scowl, he would assume she conceded his point.

“Again.”

On and on it went, with Octavia getting more frustrated and fighting worse the longer they trained.

They’d taken a break for lunch, and he’d switched strategies, from sparring against her to demonstrating moves. Again and again, move after move. When she concentrated she was a decent student. He wondered what he could do to get her to concentrate more than 3% of the time.

“Do you not take this seriously Octavia?” he asked, exasperated at this point with her lack of, well, anything. She lacked respect for his time and efforts. Lacked respect for Wanheda. Lacked respect for Heda, implying that Wanheda was a false idol.

It was early evening when Lincoln and Octavia heard hurried footsteps fast approaching them. As the figure rounded the last of the buildings before the training grounds, it was none other than a furious looking Chief Indra. Before Octavia knew what was happening she was slapped across the back of her head, hard. FUCKING hard. “What the fuck Indr…”

“Enough you Joken Branwada!!! You need to take this seriously! You have no clue what you have gotten yourself into. Your jealousy and arrogance have no place in this fight! I would not have picked you to become my seken those years ago if I knew how disrespectful you’d become to our culture. So pull the fucking stick from your ass and listen to Lincoln before I tie you to a tree.” With that, Indra stormed off toward the tower, leaving a stunned but furious Octavia behind.

Finally finding her voice after being scolded like a child, “What the fuck is she even doing here?!”

“I have told you Octavia, this fight is also a challenge. You have challenged Wanheda’s honor and now you have to answer for that. The warriors standing with you, even Heda herself, are there to make the fight less one-sided, but in the end it will be about you. By stacking the odds against herself so steeply, she is within her rights to injure, maim, even kill an enemy tomorrow. This is not just a ceremonial conflict played out for show. You are literally fighting for your life.”

“So she wants to kill me? Bring it on!”

At the end of his two year rope, Lincoln finally snapped. “How fucking stupid are you Octavia? If Wanheda wanted you dead, she’d walk down here and break you in half. She’d rip off your head with her bare hands and punt it to the top of the tower. You need to get a fucking grip and understand that this fight is about you and only you. This fight is about learning respect. You may not believe she is Wanheda, that is your right to be stupid and fail to see the obvious. But one way or another, come tomorrow, you will show her the proper respect for the place she holds in our society, a society that you fought to claim as your own, then bitched and whined about it’s traditions, rules, and structure. If you don’t like it, start walking west. In seventy days, you should reach the wastelands and you’ll be free of all this ‘grounder’ shit.”

Finishing his speech, he turned and left. It was dinner time anyway, and why should he miss a meal to help her when she didn’t want it and didn’t use it when he gave the help? He was done being a doormat. He was done overlooking her arrogance, her jealousies, her condescension. He’d never told her that he’s Heda’s brother, and boy did she lack respect. Oh, she tried with Heda, but it was like she lacked the ability to truly respect someone. It was the same with Indra. While Octavia showed respect to them to their faces, he knew that it shifted like the breeze in her thoughts and in private. WIth Wanheda, it’s like she couldn’t even muster up that much effort.

He was sure that there were innumerable lessons to be learned from this situation, but he considered that the most obvious one was also the most simple. The next time you see a pretty girl in the woods, instead of sketching her and convincing yourself it was love at first sight, talk to her, get to know her, and decide if she’s even a decent person first.

Nodding his head resolutely, he entered the tower and proceeded up to the dining room. As the elevator rose, the light above him came on. Gaping at it stupidly for a few moments, a grin slowly spread across his face. Leave it to Raven. Not that he’d ever disagreed, but in this moment, he had all the confirmation he’d ever need. She was awesome.

Sitting at the dinner table and listening to Raven describe what she’d done to fix the issue, Clarke watched Anya looking at Raven in adoration. Putting away the snark and sarcasm, she was glad to have played a role in getting them back together after their two years apart. As oblivious as she was at the time, wrapped up with Lexa, she knew there was a spark there. Oddly enough, Wanheda also not only approved on the couple, but found them endlessly entertaining.

“So then, I’d just had enough. I knew it should work, so I took a hammer and decided to convince the two million volt switch that it should work. A few whacks later, the circuit closed and here we are.”

“Ravon kom Skaikru, you have done a great service to Wanheda and I, as well as the coalition. This tower has not been lit in close to forty years, and it is thanks to your ingenuity. Well done.”

Lexa raised her glass in salute, everyone following her lead, and another hand snaked out to take a glass from the table, Lincoln raising in toast as well as he sat down.

“Congratulations Raven. I missed the how, but knowing you, it either involved an explosive or beating something repeatedly.” Lincoln said, smiling at her and happy to just be with his friends.

The group laughed, Raven reluctantly nodding before giving him the bird for knowing her so well. No one brought up where Octavia was, and for that he was grateful. They started in on their meals, a bird dish with an amazing gravy and roasted potatoes. The contest for orgasmic moaning was apparently back on.

Not three minutes into the meal, the doors opened again to admit Indra. Quirking an eyebrow at how pissed she looked, Lexa waved her over, with Monty and Lincoln scooting down a seat to let her sit by Lexa.

“You made excellent time Indra. We are glad you could be here.” Lexa said, signaling to Ryder, who’d eaten earlier, to have a serving for Indra brought. Nodding, he slipped out to see to it.

“Sha Heda, mochof. I would not miss this, feeling somewhat responsible for not seeing the truth through a pretty face. Everything I have seen, everything you have said, it all comes to one thing that she does not have, respect. Unless that lesson is learned, and I am sorry Lincoln, but unless it is learned, I am petitioning to have her removed from Trikru.”

That brought silence to all at the table. To remove someone from a clan, well, it wasn’t quite banishment, but it was almost worse. A banished person could be forgiven, just look at Lincoln. A person removed from a clan can never been reinstated.

“Do not apologize Indra. If she entered under false pretenses, there is no other choice. I only regret not admitting the problems before now. There has never been respect, not for our ways, not for our leaders. She showed you respect to your faces, but I do not believe that it was ever truly in her heart.” Admitting that, Lincoln fell silent, sitting and contemplating his food.

“Well, you’re all fucking downers.” Raven said, trying to lighten the mood. It was only slightly successful.

“Well, regardless of how it happened, we’re here now. She’ll learn. I’m sure of it. Wanheda is sure of it. At this point, she thinks I’m a pretty face and a body full of steroids. That I’ve been taught a few tricks in how to fight dirty, but that I’m no real threat. She’s thinking back to the days of the dropship, when I was all soft tones and willing to be pushed around. She thinks my pussy bought me my position. If you think about it, everything that she believes is a form of projection. Tomorrow she’ll see things as they are. She’ll either crumble and run, or be defeated, learn, and grow. The choice of how she’ll react to those things is up to her.”

Having said her peace, she finished her food and stood.

“Raven, again, kick ass job. Monty, I know you want to hack until your hands fall off. Just make sure that you protect yourself and our systems. I know we all believe that no one has touched that network in a hundred years. I hope we’re right. If you see any evidence to the contrary, disconnect, protect our end, and get me. Now, I’m going to our suite and doing filthy things to my wife. I’ll see you all in the morning for breakfast. The fight starts after breakfast.”

Standing to leave, Lexa follows suit.

“Well, on that note, I shall turn in. Pleasant sleep and dreams to all.” Indra said, standing and leaving herself.

Next was Monty, then Lincoln, and finally Raven and Anya.

For the most part, everyone slept well. The exception was Octavia. She tossed and turned, feeling uncomfortable and warm, her night clothes sticking to her.

She kept having the strangest dreams. Almost all of them were about Clarke, and almost all of them involved Clarke overpowering her, subjugating her, humiliating her, forcing her into degrading situations, and then things turned graphic.

Each time, she’d jerk into wakefulness. Each time, she felt more uneasy, more.. affected. Her final dream of the night involved a collar, restraints, humiliation, and following Clarke’s every command. That dream she didn’t wake from until the very end. Dream Clarke also came equipped with an addition, one that she shoved into Octavia so deeply that she woke up moaning with her toes curling, tightly in the grip of an orgasm. Sweaty, panting, slick down her thighs, she huffed and climbed out of bed, moving to bathe. Stupid strong Clarke and her stupid muscles and stupid penis. She probably just sits around the tower all day and exercises and rubs her muscles with oil and …

Ten minutes later, she climbed out of the bath. Moving to don her armor, she realized that it would take longer, lacking Lincoln’s help. Once finished, having to readjust it several times, she put in her braids and then put on her war paint. They were generic braids and a generic paint pattern. Only special people got different braids. Only warriors with scars or stories or experience got a different pain pattern. She was none of those things.

Putting on her weapons, she made her way out of her quarters and went to find food, trying hard to focus on the reality that was coming her way and not the dream still distracting her and making her pants uncomfortable.

Clarke stretched contentedly as she woke, feeling Wanheda’s jubilation that the day for the lesson had finally arrived. Curling around Lexa, her little spoon, from behind, she kissed her way up Lexa’s spine until she reached the back of her neck, beginning to nibble.

“Mmm hodness, you must save your strength for today” Lexa said, scooting back into Clarke’s and baring her neck, body contradicting words.

Twenty minutes later, Clarke was climbing out of bed and Lexa was seeing stars. Running a bath, Clarke returned and lfied Lexa into her arms, cradling her to her body and carrying her into the bathroom, slowly and carefully sliding her into the tub before stepping in herself. Leaning against the back, she pulled Lexa to her and held her in her lap, softly stroking Lexa’s hair and back, letting her come back to herself in her own time.

Lifting her head to look at Clarke, her cheeks dusted with a soft rosey color, Lexa kissed her gently on the lips. They continued to kiss softly until they eventually got down to work, washing hair and the rest of their bodies before rinsing and getting out.

Moving to the closet, Clarke looked inside and made a decision, but it wasn’t really a decision at all. Today was about Wanheda more than it was about Clarke, and she knew what armor to use. Setting her full armored top to the side, she instead withdrew the much shorter, more minimalist version of her armored top. It was sleeveless, using the shoulder protection to have any coverage on the arms, and that was only on the outside of the arm. The armor also used vambraces for the forearms, with thin gloves completing the look. The chest area was very exposed, as was the stomach area. The entire thing was blue leather accents, black leather as a base, and polished silver steel plates, not square and bulky, but cut to work with her joints and muscle groups to allow maximum movement.

The matching bottoms were like armored shorts. Also consisting of blue and black leather and polished steel and objectively, they did an amazing job at highlighting her thighs. Wanheda’s colors throughout, maximum flexibility, still some protection, and probably the most revealing armor ever.

Wanheda did enjoy showmanship. Today would show Octavia how far out of her league Wanheda is, and that would be done through skill, yes, but also through spectacle. The girl had no idea, probably still had no idea despite Lincoln’s teachings, exactly what she’d face today. Wanheda would show her.

Kissing Lexa on the back of the neck in passing, she moved to put on her armor. “I know today will be difficult, love..”

“It will not.” Lexa interrupted. Clarke raised an eyebrow, so Lexa elaborated “You think that the Flame will fight her hardest, want to show the crowd what she is capable of?”

Clarke nodded.

“That is not so hodness. Heda and I agree, today we will show the entire Kongeda that Wanheda lives, that she is more fierce than they can imagine, and that Wanheda chose well in you my love. The Flame has had many chances to burn in front of the Kongeda. Today is the day for them to see The Light.”

With that, Lexa finished putting on her light armor and helped Clarke with her’s. They took their usual turns braiding each other, and then applying war paint. When Lexa’s was done, Clarke sat. Today, Clarke's paint was done in blue, and Lexa brought out another jar instead of the kohl normally worn. Twisting the lid off, Clarke saw that it was liquid silver.

“This cannot be worn every day, because there is actual metal within it. The shiniest metal we can find, usually chromium, is ground into microscopic pieces and added to a clear, slightly adhesive liquid to form a paste of shimmering silver.”

Sitting still, Clarke watched in the mirror as it was applied to the claw marks and the stripes around her eyes. Lexa then used the tiniest of bushes to add a pencil-thin blue outline around the silver. The effect made everything pop.

Before putting the silver away, Lexa drew a slightly rotated and slightly larger version of Wanheda’s mark in the center of her brows. Clarke didn’t understand at first, until the medallion was placed. It gave the blue symbol a silver backdrop, and being rotated meant that the arms of the star alternated blue and silver.

Applying Lexa’s symbol for her, the two stood and moved towards their weapons.

“I’m using something different today. You should probably decide yours after you see.”

Reaching up onto a high shelf, it took a moment to extract the long box. The box itself was blue, and the moment Lexa saw it, she knew what lay inside. At six feet long, there could be little doubt of what it contained.

Setting it on the table before her, Clarke flipped the latches and lifted the lid. Inside was a very long item, wrapped in cloth to keep the blades healthy. Gripping it in the center, she slid the cloth off one end and then the other, revealing the gleaming blades.

It was nearly five feet long, and appeared as a double-sided sword. Each end held a blade with a single edge, designed that way on purpose to allow control over the lethality of blows. The tip of each end was tapered, just like one of Lexa’s katanas. In fact, the shape of the blades, the blood channels, the handguards, all made this appear as if it were two katanas joined together at the ends of the handles. The blades gleamed, yes, but they gleamed black. Written down one side of each blade in blue letters was the phrase “Yu gonplei ste odon”. On the reverse, “Death is only the beginning”.

Lexa adjusted her choices, taking two swords instead of one, knowing that it was ultimately useless but would provide a better show. She didn’t begrudge Clarke her due, just as Clarke didn’t mind Lexa’s more strategic mind. They still discussed fighting, and battles, and war strategies. There was always something to learn and share, and neither were so arrogant as to be beyond advice.

Securing their weapons, or in Clarke’s case, simply carrying it upright, they moved to the doors. Lexa took the opportunity to kiss her one more time before exiting, an excuse really since they kissed whenever and wherever they wanted.

They both moved down to the dining room, to enjoy breakfast with their friends. Lexa paused at that realizing that yes, they were her friends. Monty only slightly so, for she knew him the least, but the entire group were people that she could be Lexa with, rather than Heda. Smiling slightly as they left the elevator, entering the dining room a moment later.

“Good morning everyone. Raven, I know a million things have probably popped up since power came on, but if you could have some of maintenance test the motors for the elevators and start getting them back in their old condition, that’d be great.” Clarke said, having leaned her sword into the wall and moved to sit.

“Already on it Clarke, told them first thing this morning. I also said if they see anything funny or not right, do a different elevator and we’ll go back for repairs. By the way, we should get a radio for Maintenance, not for all of them but like one that goes to the work crews that are out and about.”

FInishing his drink, Monty nods “That’s not a problem. With how many we have now, we could probably do three, one for each of the work crews that run during the day, plus a fourth for supervisor in the office to coordinate”.

“That’d be great guys, I imagine the tower will get fixed that much more efficiently.”

“Heda, I must report that overnight we have had a death in the tower. A branwada decided to see what electricity tastes like.”

Raven tried not to laugh while Lexa just sighed at her people’s foolishness. Drink was likely involved in that curiosity.

Indra was the next to speak up, “Wanheda, the meditation area to the side of the field has been prepared, the braziers filled and the incense in place. All is ready.”

“Thank you Indra”.

Leaving it at that, everyone turned to their meals, with Monty talking to Raven energetically about the hacking he’d do today. He’s apparently stayed up late last night writing logic bombs, rootkits, and all manner of nastines. Anya perked up at the word “bomb”, but seemed to pout when Raven explained that it was just a name, and no real bomb existed.

If Anya grumbled about being teased with the possibility of explosives, everyone chose to ignore it. Raven did promise herself that she’d make some explosives soon for demonstration purposes and invite Anya along. With all her new tools, she could experiment with different detonators now.

“Hey Clarke, I know people have brought in a lot of stuff, wiring, gadgets, computers. Did you have anyone pick up explosives?” Raven didn’t see why they wouldn’t, as long as they were handled properly.

“You’re spoiling your birthday. There’s about eight hundred pounds of semtex and C4 in a very secure storage area on sublevel 7.”

Squealing, Raven jumped up and hugged Clarke. Laughing, Clarke decided to give credit where credit was due.

“Actually, you can thank Lexa for that. I didn’t think she’d want explosives in the tower, let alone enough to bring it down if done right, but she wanted to be prepared and knew you’d like it. I think Anya helped with the decision though.” Anya preened, glad to have helped make Raven happy.

Raven hugged Anya, then shyly approached Lexa. Lexa looked amused at the display, right up until Raven uttered “fuck it” and enveloped Lexa in a hug. The amusement turned to a wide-eyed look at Clarke for help.

Everyone around the table laughed, and Raven almost immediately withdrew from the hug before throwing on her cocky smirk.

“Thank you Commander. For the record, Clarke’s muscles are bigger, but I can tell you’re not the string bean you were two years ago.” With that, Raven darted to her seat, with Anya between her and Lexa.

“Though I do not know what a string bean is, I will take it as a complement.”

The entire train of conversation was a ticking, unstable looking bomb waiting to go off, so no one touched it.

Finishing up breakfast, Clarke decided to let them know what the plan was.

“If you’re going to this, which would be appreciated, head down to the training grounds. Indra will have made a section in the viewing area for all of you so that you can observe the whole thing. Since Lexa is on the opposing team I guess you could say, she’ll be instructing those warriors and Octavia, if she’ll listen, in strategy. I’ll be on the other side getting ready, doing meditation.”

“Um, Clarke, I know that everyone thinks you have this other spirit inside you, and that’s cool and I respect that. But other than being super buff and learning how to fight, I mean, you’re fighting the Commander and Octavia and fifteen warriors at once, it’s nuts. Do you really believe you have the spirit of Wanheda?” Raven asked doubtfully.

Clarke immediate held up a hand to prevent Lexa, Indra, Anya, and any number of guards in the room with taking exception to the question. She knew Raven, and that meant knowing that Raven doubted what she couldn’t see.

“I know you’re worried Ray, and I know that your beliefs are your own, but yes. With every fiber of my being, and my belief isn’t required. From my toes to my fingers and all that’s in between, I know I’m Wanheda. In an hour you will too.”

Nodding, still not believing, Raven got up to leave, Anya going with her. Clarke had no doubt that Anya would be answering questions about Wanheda for a while. Indra also stood, bowed her head, and left to ensure everything was ready.

“Clarke, I know this is important to you, I’m just worried for you. I’m not trying to undermine you, like at all, but friends worry, right?” Monty asked, not wanting to offend her or the couple of thousand pounds of guards around and outside the room.

“I know Monty. Just like Raven, I know you don’t believe in the Spirits. That’s okay. All I need you to do is have faith in me.” she said, looking earnestly into his eyes.

“You’ll never have to ask me to believe in you Clarke. From day 1 on Earth, I knew you’d get us through or die trying. Just try not to let it be the second thing.” Smiling, he took his leave.

“Your friends do you credit hodness. They do not share our faith, yet their faith in you keeps them from interfering. It is a lesson I wish Gustus could have learned.” Lexa said.

Sensing the melancholy in that statement, not to mention the fact that she’d brought up her old most trusted guard, she moved to Lexa, cupping her cheek and carefully avoiding smudging her paint.

“I know, Lexa. Have faith in me, and Heda can have faith in Wanheda. Today will be difficult, but I promise not to let her hurt anyone too badly.” Grinning, she lightly kissed Lexa’s lips before receiving a swat on the butt.

“We will see who shall defeat whom, my large blonde sex panther.”

The laughter from Ryder in the corner broke the mood. Huffing, Clarke turned and gave him the finger, his smile just growing in response.

“Time to go.” Clarke said, moving to take her weapon from it’s leaning position on the wall. Lexa rose from the chair, Ryder moving in behind them both. He’d heard stories of previous commanders, even previous commanders of death. He believed with every fiber of his being that these were the best two yet, and he would die for them. Plus they were damned funny.

Descending in the elevator, Clarke looked forward to the day when they’d once again be electronic instead of strictly manually mechanical. She imagined that not only would the speed be better, but the men that worked all day to keep the weights set and to engage the mechanisms would probably enjoy new, less boring jobs.

“Lexa, when the elevators are switched back to running on electricity, we should commend each of the workers who operated them. It had to be boring and thankless, and yet they did it with very few accidents and no fatalities for years.”

Ryder nodded unnoticed behind them, this was why he’d follow them to death. Having no reason to thank or acknowledge those men, they’d do it anyway.

“That is a good idea my love. We should also find out what jobs they would prefer to move in to, whether in the tower or again as normal warriors.”

Nodding, Clarke continued on, out of the doors of the tower and towards the training grounds. She was wearing a cloak over her armor, but it was pretty hard to hide that monster of a sword. People parted for her and Lexa like the Red Sea, the looks in their eyes ranged from respect, to the love one has of great rulers, and even to awe of the religious aspects of the pair. Whatever the clan, there was no hate or disdain, for they ruled equally and fairly.

The crowds swelled as they got closer to the training fields, Looking at them, it seemed that none of the other units of soldiers were practicing right now, the other fields used for even more spectators.

As they reached the boundary area where they would have to part, each brought up their right hand to place on the other’s heart. “Ai hod yu en hodness.”

“I love you too, Leksa. Remember, keep your spirit where it is.” Clarke gave her an impish grin, before nodding and moving off to her side of the area. Two people were waiting for her there, Sam kom Guardkru and Sten, the messenger. He looked tired but otherwise fine, in good spirits but solemn as he felt the situation deserved.

Sam nodded, Sten deciding to explain “I am familiar with what will happen, the one who fights the many, and the preparations. My grandfather witnessed the same rite and spoke of it often when I was a boy. Knowing that Chief Indra and General Anya could not assist, I volunteered.”

Grasping his forearm and nodding, Clarke responded “Mochof Sten. All I really need is for someone to light the braziers in the proper order, and to keep the crowd back with Sam here.”

“Forgive me Wanheda, but do you also not wish for the ritual chants? My grandfather spoke of them at length and seemed to think they were important.”

“You’re right, and so was he. They are important, but they serve to bring forth Wanheda. In past vessels, Wanheda has lain dormant or far below the surface. With me, Wanheda could not be closer to the surface without being outside of me, so she will come when called through thought.”

“I understand, thank you for explaining. It’s my understanding that the Sisterhood has several dozen in attendance here as well, just so you are aware.”

The Sisterhood of Wanheda, a sect of belief devoted to the Commander of Death. They weren’t nuts or whack-jobs, they just studied the stories of Wanheda more so than those of Heda, much to Lexa’s amusement. As she explained it, it was nice to have the spotlight elsewhere for a change.

“Their leader wished to speak with you for a moment, should there be time before the rite began.” Sam said, eyes darting to the crowd to ensure order.

“If she’s nearby, bring her over. I don’t have a lot of time but we’ll see what she wants.” Nodding, Sam moved into the crowd, returning less than thirty seconds later with a tan, dark haired woman in ceremonial robes, the stars of Wanheda embroidered on the front shoulders.

“I am Sif, chief acolyte of the sisterhood. It is an honor Wanheda.” At this, she bowed to her knees, lowering her head.

Clarke moved over, reaching to slide her hand around the side of the woman’s neck, her thumb resting in front of the ear, fingers curling around the curve to the back of the head in the traditional blessing. That hadn’t felt weird the first few times doing it, no not at all.

“Rise Sif. I don’t have a lot of time but tell me what you need and we’ll see what I can do after.”

Standing, Sif refocused, a look of contentment on her face at receiving the blessing so few of her sisters had managed.

“I merely wished to inform you that the book of Wanheda is nearly complete. The Gonasleng passes are done, explaining what stories we could capture that were passed on from generation to the next, and the illustrations are all that remain. Arya and Sansa, the artists, are touted as the best in Polis. They say another week and it shall be complete, though if you could visit their studio in the first artisan section of the inner merchant district, it would be helpful. One of the final illustrations is of you, Wanheda.”

Clarke knew of the book. It wasn’t a bible, it was just a recounting of stories of past deeds, speeches, battles, and some images. The artist in her loved the idea of seeing what past vessels looked like, or at least what the artist thought they did. When it came to being Wanheda, there were really only two choices. Fight it and make everyone miserable, or embrace it and roll with the good, the bad, and the weird as it came.

Letting Wanheda out completely, a total merging of both spirits, wasn’t technically needed for Octavia’s lesson, but she had to answer the challenge to her honor and Wanheda’s authority. She also needed to let Wanheda stretch her wings. Azgeda was a long time ago, and Clarke knew Wanheda was restless.

Nodding at Sif, she answered “That’s fine. Please tell the artists to bring what art supplies they need and come to the tower any day after midweek. I’ll give them what time I can, but it won’t likely be more than a few hours a day that I can use to work on other things, or perhaps they could capture me in the throne room. I leave it for them to decide.” She paused here, putting her hand on Sif’s shoulder “I’m sorry, it’s almost time and I must prepare. It was good to meet you Sif. Wanheda thanks you for your dedication and commitment. Walk with honor and carry justice in all your steps.”

Voice slightly rough, Sif responded “Thank you Wanheda, Klark kom Trikru. Your participation and words honor us.” Bowing again, she turned and left through the crowd.

Moving to the center of the braziers, Clarke removed her cloak and let it fall outside the circle. She set her sword in front of her, perpendicular to her knees before signaling to Sten. As he lit the first flame, igniting the incense, she moved into the lotus position, beginning to meditate.

The crowd around her grew extremely quiet, watching Wanheda with wide-eyed fascination. The second brazier was lit, the smoke from them beginning to collect in the air.

Clarke retreated into her mind, calling to that part of her that she had not been born with, the Other. To say that it was powerful would be an understatement, but she did not overwhelm Clarke. It was as if the two fit together in a spiritual way, similar but different to how she and Lexa fit together.

She felt the power starting to flow through her, filling her body, her muscles, her skin with electricity.

The third brazier was lit.

She knew that Wanheda had many names throughout the years, that the spirit was not new but old, so very old, reaching back to time immemorial. She understood Wanheda’s motives, seeking justice, working to defend humanity’s last chance to avoid extinction, to build a better world from the ashes of the old one. She knew that Wanheda had seen death, slaughter, annihilation and wanted to help, with the Flame, to avoid those outcomes again.

The fourth brazier was lit.

Wanheda wasn’t senseless violence or uncaring force. She didn’t use her power to slaughter the defenseless or to crush dissent. The abilities, the power that she gave her vessel were awesome and deadly. Clarke had struggled, in the beginning, to not let that rush of power, of being nearly unstoppable, go to her head. Surrounded by so many enemies, it was easy to paint the walls with their blood without a second thought. But how many enemies were only doing what they thought right, would turn from that path if given a choice at something better? The wisdom of knowing when not to kill, that had taken time.

The fifth brazier was lit.

As Wanheda slid home into Clarke’s body, fully occupying her for the first time in months, she relished the feeling. She knew Clarke, inside and out, and understood the woman she’d become through the last several years of strife. Clarke’s spirit, her will, was unstoppable even before she’d chosen her. It was only a matter of helping to shape the body into an instrument that would serve them both. With the help of the Ichor used against Clarke’s will, as well as the boosting agent that came later, not to mention her own not small influence, Clarke’s body was now as formidable as her spirit, as their spirits, able to do what needed to be done in the pursuit of justice, the dance of death. This woman, in such agony when they met yet unyielding, was already her best vessel over the years. Others may be started out stronger, or faster, or as better fighters, true. Yet none of them had embraced what it was to be a vessel, or had loved the other and the Flame so completely.

The sixth brazier was lit.

As she readied herself to rise, she considered the force that they’d be facing. Fifteen warriors, hardly a challenge. Lexa and the Flame, far far more of one, and finally the girl, foolish, arrogant, feeling that she deserved the world. She could fancy herself the future Heda all she’d like, hopes and aspirations were good after all. Believing that everything should be handed to you, that you were more deserving than another without regard to their quality, that was the mark of the arrogant, the weak, and the foolish. Yes, the girl has potential, but her attitude needed so much work. Wanheda had seen her like before. Breaking her would help her see reality. Time to get to work.

Wanheda opened her eyes, the six flames around her instantly turning from orange fire to blue, an inner glow and silvery tint having entered her gaze. Peering across at her challengers, she could see the warriors shifting nervously. Even the flame gripped her sword tighter, as if her palm was sweating. They’d seen the change then, in her eyes, her demeanor, even in her aura. Good. It would not do for them not to realize who they were fighting.

Using the toe of her boot, she slide it under the handle of the double sword and flipped it up into her hand gracefully. Smiling, she advanced.

Lexa arrived to the training grounds, splitting off from Clarke so that she could organize the other side of this ritual fight. Approaching the fifteen gona, she noticed Octavia and Lincoln to the side, apparently disagreeing on something. Ignoring the girl for now, she motioned for the head of the guard to join her.

“Ryder, I know that this will be a difficult fight. We must have a strategy. Speak true, now is no time for formalities”. As she finished saying this, Octavia and Lincoln joined them.

“If I am speaking true Heda, then Wanheda will destroy us. There is no strategy we could use, save retreat, that would avoid that fate. My hope is that we will fight Clarke, with Wanheda’s help, rather than the other way around. Facing her as a warrior unleashed will not end well.”

At this, Octavia scoffed “Are you serious? It’s one person against seventeen! I mean I know you believe in spirits and stuff, but even her belief in these powers isn’t going to let her beat all of us!”

Sighing, Lincoln looked to Lexa apologetically, “I am sorry Heda. I attempted to explain to her, for many hours, that are beliefs are based on reality, not myth and legend. She refuses to believe.”

“And she will therefore underestimate our foe until she is broken and bloody, precisely Wanheda’s plan. Octavia, from this moment forward you are not involved in our strategy. We cannot rely on you to take the threat seriously, and you would therefore only work against us. Fight and defend as you will, for if Wanheda makes it through the warriors, Ryder and I, you shall know hopelessness.” Heda advised, turning her back on Octavia.

Glowering, she started with “What the fuck is” before being yanked around to face Lincoln.

“Shut up! You need to understand that you’re facing someone stronger than you, faster than you, a better fighter than you, and someone who is sick of your shit Octavia.”

As he finished speaking, looking into her outraged eyes, the crowd grumbled, drawing their attention. Gasps and pointing followed and, turning to follow the pointing, they saw Wanheda, seated but with her eyes now open, eyes that seemed to glow, surrounded by blue flame.

Lincoln watched speechless, in awe of seeing a spirit made flesh, as Wanheda stood and casually flipped the massive blade into her hand. Looking at Octavia, he could see that even she, still in denial, looked worried. Good, that was nothing compared to the worry she’d be doing shortly.

Lexa and the other warriors moved to approach Wanheda, meeting her halfway. There was a raised viewing area off to the side, which was where they were all headed.

Lexa eyed Clarke, Wanheda, from a few feet away. Smiling, Wanheda grinned back and nodded. While serious, this would also be fun for the two, the Flame and the Light would enjoy their dance.

Looking to the stage, Indra, Anya, Raven, Monty, and … Roan and Ontari?

“King Roan kom Azgeda, we did not expect you.” Lexa said, hopping up on the stage to grip his forearm.

Smiling widely, glad to see her again, Roan gripped her forearm. “We were on our way to Polis for the latest round of trade talks when we heard word of the one who fights many. I couldn’t miss that!” Grinning in his charming way down at Wanheda, he took note of her stature, the powerful look of her body, and finally the faint glow of her eyes. He revised his demeanor immediately, recognizing the spirit that had aided his people less than two years ago.

Bowing respectfully, a much different tone spoke “It is an honor to be present for your rite Wanheda. Azgeda continues to be in your debt, as do I personally.”

Smiling as one would to an older brother, Wanheda nodded back. Opening her mouth to speak, only Roan was unsurprised at her voice.

“It is good to see you again, brother of battle.” To say her voice was different was to call water wet. It was still Clarke’s voice, but somehow it was more than one voice, as if many women were talking, all at once, with the same words. In fact, it was every vessel that Wanheda had ever joined with speaking back.

Raven looked alarmed, Octavia looked confused and about to piss herself, Anya looked awed, as did Lincoln and Indra, though she tried to hide it behind her stoicism. Lexa looked…

Lexa looked completely turned-on. Leaning to the side to address Wanheda privately, she whispered “To borrow Clarke’s phrase, that voice is hot as fuck.” Nodding, Lexa leaned back, enjoying the pleased smile on Wanheda’s face and ignoring Raven’s laughter.

Roan stepped back, nodding at Wanheda again, and took his seat, Ontari standing by his side. Indra stood, raising her hands in the air to quiet the thousand or so people who showed-up to witness this.

“People of the Kongeda! We are here today to witness the rite of combat, the one who fights many! Octavia kom Trikru, assigned to Wanheda’s command, has issued grave insult and disrespect upon the Commander of Death. This rite shall be the path by which Wanheda demonstrates, one last time, the reason that respect has been earned. With Heda and fifteen of the elite guard joining the offender, the Commander of Death shall face them all! There are no rules in this combat but one, if you run, you die! Assume positions and may The Flame and The Light guide your fight.”

As Indra finished, the crowd roared. Both sides backed away until about twenty feet separated them. The guards were, well, fucking huge. There were a few women included to add their speed to the mix, but for the most part, it was a wall of muscle. Lexa knew that their best chance was to overwhelm Wanheda, and so she had given orders accordingly.

As Indra’s raised arm dropped, the fight began.

Wanheda walked to the very center of the field and stopped, looking at the warriors, at Lexa, and at Octavia. “Warriors of Kongeda! I will not maim or kill you unless you give me reason. Especially you, my Flame, but the girl will learn her place if she is to remain. Let us begin.”

Lexa shivered at hearing the voice again before she refocused. Nodding at Ryder, he and five of the largest warriors charged Wanheda.

She did not move, nor react save for dropping her sword to the ground beside her.

As they reached her, it was apparent that they weren’t going to use their weapons. Instead, they collided with all their weight and momentum bearing down on her body, and as they pushed her back, feet sliding on the sand, it appeared that it would work.

Octavia, wide-eyed at the tactic Lexa was using against her own wife, stared in shock, hoping that it would work and this fight would be finished before it started. She started to move forward, sword raised, and was instantly stopped by an iron grip on her upper arm, turning and seeing Lexa shake her head no.

Gasps came from the crowd and, looking back, her eyes must’ve been deceiving her. Two of the warriors were already on the ground, two more in mid-flight despite weighing what must be over five hundred pounds between them. Only Ryder and one other warrior were still trying to grapple with Wanheda.

Leaving Ryder for last, she grasped the front of the other warrior’s armor and flung him behind her. He traveled for a good fifteen feet before meeting the ground where he remained, clearly dazed.

Ryder, gritting his teeth and pushing still against her, decided for desperation. As he clutched her instead, he brought his head forcefully into hers, hoping a headbutt would at least disorient her.

It disoriented someone, but that wasn’t the right someone. The next thing Ryder knew, he was being held aloft, over her head with both hands.

Raven was beyond words, gripping Anya’s arm tightly throughout the fight. Finding some working part of her brain, she whispered “How the fuck is she that strong?”

“She is Wanheda.” Anya answered simply.

Octavia watched as the headbutt did nothing, watched as Clarke reached down and lifted the hulking man above her head, watched the display of muscles and sweat and determination from the girl that was once so soft and useless in a physical fight. How did Clarke go from that to an armored Goddess of muscles and strength fuck me abs and just, ultimate capability?

As Lexa watched, Ryder went sailing into the group of warriors she’d planned to send in the second wave. Only four went down with the impact and, true to her word, Wanheda hadn’t used enough force to seriously injure them. Knowing her wife’s strength, she could’ve sent Ryder at them like a shot from a gun. She grimaced at that mental image, far too messy to imagine.

Of the warriors that had joined the battle, nine in total that had been engaged, only one looked as if he was in a position to rejoin the fight. Wanheda took care of that one quickly enough, retrieving her blade and using the dull side to rap him on the head. He dropped from his knees back to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Six, plus Lexa and Octavia. She signaled four to advance and engage with blades.

They approached, Wanheda holding her ground and waiting. Two swung at once and hit nothing but air, Wanheda standing two feet from where they’d swung. In pairs, they tried again and again to strike her, but hit nothing but air. Tiring of the game, Wanheda again used the dull part of her blade to knock them out, one by one, spinning the blade faster than the eye could follow.

Four left. Four, out of seventeen. Lexa nodded to Octavia and, with the other two warriors, they advanced. In an instant, the two other warriors were on the ground unconscious, with Wanheda standing behind Lexa and Octavia.

Turning quickly, Lexa sized her up. In response, Wanheda grinned, a little lecherously, a little dangerously, extended her hand, and used her fingers in a ‘come here’ motion.

“Come my Flame. It is time for our dance.”

Drawing her second sword as she fought down the shiver up her spine, she felt Heda grinning within her, knowing the moment had arrived.

Unfortunately for Octavia, she chose that moment to interrupt, launching herself at Wanheda. Sidestepping easily, Wanheda flat-bladed Octavia on the ass as she went by, landing face first on the ground with a stinging ass.

Octavia huffed and rolled over. On the sidelines, Lincoln was shouting at her to fight smart, to show honor and respect, and that this would go more easily on her.

Turning back in to what was happening, she looked up and saw… something. Lexa and Clarke were sword fighting, but she couldn’t actually see the blades, not clearly anyway.

Wanheda was spinning, and spinning, a whirling tornado of steel, the blades swinging around her like scarves around a dancer.

Octavia jumped up, rushing to help, coming at Clarke from behind, hoping to surprise her. As she lifted her sword to swing, it was knocked aside in an instant. Maintaining her grip on it only barely, she gasped and backed away, stunned and in so much pain. She looked down to take inventory and stared dumbly at her body.

She had a slash across both thighs and her stomach. Not deep, but very painful. Reaching up to her face, she touched her cheeks and came away with blood from each.

‘What the fuck she didn’t even swing at me! No don’t panic! You can do this, she has to get tired soon you can win! Stupid trick sword… it’s just her muscles distracting me! Fucking abs and thighs!’

Charging back in, this time it appeared that she’d gained more than just Wanheda’s passing attention.

Wanheda hit Lexa’s main blade with quite a bit of strength, the crack of steel on steel echoing across the field. The force of the blow slid Lexa back fifteen feet, giving Wanheda time to deal with the little yapping bitch coming up behind her.

Octavia watched as Clarke shoved Lexa back farther than should be possible, then Clarke turned around to face her. It was the eyes, this close, that finally started to make Octavia see.

Wanheda knew, now was the time to break her. Without looking, she threw her sword like a javelin towards the stage. Raven and Monty both squealed, and would argue for years about which was higher pitched. The sword anchored itself firmly into one of the support beams in front, the tip driving into the wood several inches.

Octavia knew, now was the time to win. She drew back her sword, then swung with all her might, her hands joining together in the overhand swing.

Raven practically climbed into Anya’s lap, watching Clarke disarm herself and then Octavia take a swing that hard with her sword.

Lincoln closed his eyes, knowing that it was about to be over. He had loved Octavia once, but her disrespect in attacking an unarmed opponent, in not believing in what was right before her eyes because the savages believed in something supernatural. He knew what was about to happen.

Lexa watched in horrified fascination as the blade cut through the air, unerringly aimed for her wife’s neck. She knew Wanheda was powerful, and fast, and tough. Perhaps it would be better if she were cautious.

Feeling the thrill of pending victory, Octavia pushed even harder. As the blade came down, Wanheda’s hands came up and the blade came to a stop, instantly, in the V formed by her palms flat together.

Raven was shaking Anya back and forth, hard, yelling “what the fuck” with each shake. Anya merely grinned at Wanheda.

Indra knew that the pain was already on it’s way. Perhaps she could find a new seken amongst the other Sky people? Marcus would surely help.

Octavia’s eyes practically bugged out of her head, but Wanheda wasn’t done with just stopping the blade. She stepped forward and, using her forearms, snapped the blade in two before plucking the useless handle from Octavia’s scared grasp and flinging it to the ground.

“Now, fight me as if your life depends on it. Fight me as if I can’t see your pupils dilated, as if you weren’t quivering with arousal right now.”

As she finished speaking, she heard the wind shifting behind her. Whirling, she caught Lexa mid-leap. Wanheda flipped her in mid air to bring her to the ground on her back. Lexa braced for the impact, knowing she had a lot of momentum behind her. Instead, it felt as if she’d been gently placed on her bed as a prelude to making love. Looking up at Wanheda, Lexa saw the both, Wanheda and Clarke, staring back at her with adoration.

Reaching up to grasp her wife by the throat, she needed to take her Flame out of the fight so that she can finish with the chit.

Squeezing a bit, “Do you yield My Flame?” She couldn’t help gently stroking the sides of Lexa’s neck as she asked.

“Since I know you could pull my head from my shoulders, I believe it would be wise. I yield.”

As Wanheda was about to release her and stand, Lincoln shouted “Don’t do it!”

Sailing into view, Octavia’s booted foot and armor-covered calf slammed home into Wanheda’s chest and face.

Octavia fell to the ground and immediately started rolling around, wailing in pain.

Looking back down, Wanheda smiled and said “If you will excuse me for a moment my Flame, this needs to end. I know Clarke prefers to let her live, though that wish is changing every minute. Do you have a preference?”

Huffing and sitting up, Lexa answered as honestly as she could “I would only allow her to live should she have a real epiphany. Otherwise kill her, lest her disrespect spread like a cancer.”

Nodding, Wanheda wandered over to Octavia. Leaning over, she grasped her buy her shoulders and pulled her to her feet as one might lift a feather pillow. Setting her on her good foot, she looked her in the eye.

“There is no surrender, no yielding for you in this fight since you are the reason it has happened. Fight me as if your life depends on it, for it does.” Stepping back, Wanheda took a fighting stance.

Ignoring her pain, Octavia put both feet on the ground and took a swing. It was blocked, and the follow-up punch from Clarke broke two ribs. She tried again, and lost another two on the other side.

She tried a kick, and a black bruise was instantly forming on her thigh. Over and over she threw punches, tried kicks, elbows, knees, and every time they were blocked and she was bruised or broken.

“All that this was ever about was respecting Clarke as a leader, and her place in this culture as the carrier of my spirit, but you couldn’t even show respect. You doubted her skills because you didn’t witness her get them. You doubted her spirit because you refused to see. She has earned your respect, over and over. You have spit on her, over and over.

Octavia swung wildly with her left hand and Wanheda rewarded her by dislocating her left shoulder.

“Fuck you! All you ever were was a power-hungry whore willing to fuck whoever it took to give you want you wanted! Now you fucked the commander to give you a place with the grounders!”

“It’s funny that you say that Octavia. From the moment you landed on Earth, you’ve tried to fuck anyone willing. First it was Atom, because he was big and could protect you. Then it was going to be Jasper, because he knew what you could eat to keep you alive. Then it was Lincoln, because he could hunt and protect you from the savages. You’ve tried to fuck your way to safety since you got here.”

“But we both know it’s not just safety you want. Your dreams last night told you that. No, you need someone stronger, and you need someone to teach you your place. So, congratulations. I’m about to give you everything you dreamed of. I hope you like it.”

Twisted, humiliating and sexual images flashed through her mind from her dream of Clarke last night. Before she could react, she was being punched.

I know I can do this! I’m better than that slut! I’m going lead and be Heda and …

Another punch rocked Octavia, sending her to the ground. Wanheda picked her up and continued.

She’s so strong. How the hell did she get so strong?! She could protect me..

A punch to the gut this time had her breath wheezing out between her bloody lips. Seeing stars, she dropped to her knees. Looking up, wanting to see the next hit coming, she froze.

There, standing before her, was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Tilting her head, she realized that this wasn’t Clarke. There were wings, black as night, extending from her back. She stood there, a light emanating from behind her, wearing nothing at all. And she was magnificent.

Standing behind this creature of beauty and power, this not-Clarke, was Lexa, but not-Lexa. With wings of orange and red, like shimmering fire, she looked on as not-Clarke gazed into Octavia’s soul.

“Wa-Wanheda?”

The Commander of Death. The Angel of Death.

With one more punch to the face, it was as if a switch was thrown in Octavia’s mind. Her thoughts raced as her consciousness swam through epiphany and realization so life-altering that she couldn’t remain unaffected.

The God of Death. So beautiful! So strong! She can keep me safe… she wanted me to follow her, gave me the chance to be one of her chosen after she left hundreds of others behind.

How could I have been so stupid? I was wrong to ever doubt her, I was wrong! I’m sorry! Please I can do better. I can serve you Wanheda! You’ve saved me so many times Cla..Wanheda. You’re my savior and I’ll serve you and repay your gifts of life and freedom and love!

The final hit drove her to unconsciousness, but only after Wanheda had seen the shift in her expression. Hopefully the girl would see that someone with the strength and skill and courage of Clarke should be respected, not have their kindness and compassion spit on.

Turning to Lexa “It is over. Have her and any of the others that need it taken to the fisas in the tower.” Walking up to Lexa, she kisses her deeply, squeezing her little flame close.

Using the ‘sexy voice’ one more time, she murmurs in Lexa’s tiny little ear “Ai hod yu in Leksa, ai Flaim.”

Letting Wanheda slip back into the background, Clarke releases her hug, take’s Lexa’s hand, and moves towards the stage. As Indrea speaks the words to announce that the ritual is over, the people on the stage move forward to talk.

Indra, surprisingly, is the first. “Very well done Wanheda. Hopefully it is enough to bring about real change.” Not needing a response, she turned to make her way through the crowd and return to the tower.

“Remind me not to challenge you anytime soon Wanheda” was Anya’s contribution. Raven just looked at her in shock and sputtered a few ‘what’s and ‘how’s before Anya led her away. Monty high-fived her for kicking ass and told her that he needed to get back to work.

Turning to Lexa, Clarke linked their arms and started walking towards the tower.

“I hope this settled things. We have too much going on, too much we need to handle, to deal with any more of that.” Clarke said, rubbing the back of her neck.

“I agree hodness. Should she provide any more trouble for us, I know Luna would be happy to take her out to see and drop her weighted body overboard” Lexa said with a straight face.

Laughing, then shaking her head at laughing about the premeditated murder of someone who used to be her friend, she unfortunately agreed.

“Okay, any more trouble out of her and she’s gone, but she doesn’t get the option of banishment to the west. We don’t need any more trouble from that direction.”

Humming in agreement, Lexa nodded as they entered the tower.

A man was standing near two cordoned-off elevators, explaining to any who asked that they were being refitted to use electricity again. Clarke was relieved to see everyone working so quickly to adapt things back to using tech again. They headed up to the throne room and proceeded with the drudgery that comes with running a coalition.

Clarke and Lexa received a report from Nyko a short time later. Almost all of the warriors had already been released. The two that remained behind were merely being observed as a precaution due to their head wounds.

Octavia had numerous cuts, none of them life-threatening. She also had a concussion and a severely bruised jaw, as well as her left arm broken in two places. He’d popped her dislocated shoulder back into places while she was still unconscious. He also informed them that Lincoln had asked of her condition, then promptly left after explaining that he’d ended things with Octavia that morning.

Clarke dispatched a guard to find him and help him move his things to a different suite on the same floor, honestly glad that he wasn’t wasting his time with someone who disrespected his beliefs so much. Lexa seemed sad, but Clarke reassured her.

“Love, he’s very handsome, very much in shape, he’s kind, he’s intelligent, and he’s the most caring and attentive man that I’ve ever met. I’m sure that he’ll find someone who’s worthy of him this time.”

Humming, Lexa had nodded and kissed her wife. Clarke was right, Octavia was not the one for her bro. She would have to devote significant time and thought to the project, but she was sure she could find exactly the right match for him. Perhaps Sam…

After wrapping up their duties in the throne room, they went their separate ways. Clarke decided to check on Octavia, since she did put her in the hospital. After riding to the hospital floor and being pointed in the right direction by Nyko, she went to the girl’s bed. Looking down on her, the mother of all bruises was already forming on her jaw.

Hearing Octavia mumbling, she leaned closer. She could just barely make out the words.

“Please please Wanheda let me serve you”.

Well, that was a start. Patting Octavia’s shoulder, she leaned in and whispered.

“If you are to serve me, it will be with respect, and honor, and with everything you have Octavia kom Trikru.”

With that, Clarke straightened and walked away as Octavia resumed sleep, missing her lick her lips and rub her thighs together, breath hitching as Wanheda taught her lesson after lesson, Octavia on her knees in the dream.

I devote myself to you my Goddess Wanheda, mind, body, and spirit, forever... mistress...

The group all met up again at dinner, Clarke and Lexa back in their casual armor. Monty was gushing about how close he was already to cracking the military network.

Dinner that night was a pasta dish, with a garlic sauce and cheese and bread and more cheese. Raven was drooling by her third bite.

“So Clarke, I gotta ask. I mean, after seeing everything today, seeing the changes to you, your hair, tattoos, muscles, everything. Seeing all that, I can’t help but wonder what happened between then and now.”

Leaning in, she asked the question that’d been on her mind, Monty’s too, ever since she had come riding back into their lives.

“What happened after you left the mountain Clarke?”

Finishing chewing her bite, she looked at Lexa, seeing nothing but encouragement. It wasn’t exactly a light topic.

“Well, a lot happened Raven. You see, right after I left…”