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Summary: Spoiler warnings. Takes place a month after Mount Weather. Anya is still alive. So are Wells and Finn. Jasper was the one that Clarke killed out of mercy to spare him from torture after Jasper shot someone in a panic. Clarke has fled her people, fled both the Sky People and the Trikru. Both Lexa and Anya, who she was in love with have betrayed her. The Azgeda have caught her. Nia is keeping her captive. And she has something that she knows will make Clarke bow to the Azgeda. Several OCs. Also, Charlotte is still alive too.
Inspired greatly by Rhinomouse's "A Different Landing."
This story will start a month after Clarke kills the Mountain Men and the rest of the story will take place six months after that. So Clarke, Anya and Lexa were all together, but Lexa and Anya betrayed her and left her people at the mountain. Also, part of the Ark is still up in space. Some people are still up there. That's important because of a bunch of the OCs that are going to be in this story.
Trigger warnings for violence, serious violence, and trauma.
This chapter takes place a month right after the fall of the mountain.
The Azgeda Chronicles: The Twenty-Six:
Azgeda territory: Norway
Clarke was bound by the chains. They were clamped tightly around her wrists. She huffed darkly. She faced the steel barred doors that were creaking open, the light from the torches eclipsed by two large bodies arriving at the prison. Clarke's body tightened up with thoughts of the possibilities of what might happen next. She recognized these men's clothing, though she didn't recognize the men. They were Queen Nia's. Azgeda. Not that she had had any doubt. They were covered in white fur, with black tattoos and blue tattoos along their faces that were hands with spirals in them, plus facial scars.
She should have known she was in Azgeda territory. As soon as she had woken up, she had been wreathed in heavy, white furs, much heavier than she'd need, had she been in Trikru territories. She had been taken by the Azgeda. She shuddered, remembering all the stories she had heard about them. She had been wandering around the Boat Peoples' territories, the Floukru for a couple of weeks, trading the furs of animals for caught fish when she had been hit hard across the back of her head and had lost consciousness. She had been drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like only seconds but she now realized it had to have been at least hours, days more than likely if she was indeed with the Azgeda. No, wait, if this was the Azgeda and she was across the sea, then it had to have been almost a month that she had been on that ship. She had been on a ship and she had been awake, then had felt something brought to her lips, some sort of liquid being poured down her throat and then she had blacked out again and again. She had been drugged. Probably multiple times. It made sense since the Azgeda territory, what was once Norway was a monthaway from Trikru territory in what was once America. She had been captured by the Azgeda, drugged by them repeatedly and repeatedly force fed with liquid food for a month or so. And apparently, here she was. At their mercy.
Clarke heaved out a breath. Wonderful. Then again, it wasn't anything she didn't deserve, was it? She ignored any signs of panic she might feel. Any punishment she got, whippings, beatings, skinning, burning, worse, she'd welcome it. She nodded to herself in resignation as the two guards stepped through the doorway. This was all she deserved. She was a murderer. She had killed the mountain men, left people at Ton DC to die, including Octavia, Kane, Indra and her own mother. This must be her justice. Nothing more.
The larger of the two guards, leaned forward in a slight bow. "Wanheda, Queen Nia will see you now." Clarke nodded, stepping forward between the brown-haired, larger guard and the black-haired guard, "Lead me to her, if you will." Both guards nodded and started pushing her gently through the gate, snapping the gate shut with a clang. They wisely didn't take her chains off as they led her, keeping their hands fisted around the chains so that Clarke couldn't twist the chains and turn them into weapons. They obviously remembered what happened last time.
Even as Clarke was led up the cold stone steps of the dungeon, out of the lower floor and into the main halls of the building, she did not feel any dread. Even as she saw the dangling torture tools; a flogger, a set of thumb screws, wrist biters, whips, and other Azgeda torture tools that she had heard the Trikru talk about during their disgusted gossip of the Azgeda at Ton DC.
After what felt like ages, Clarke was brought through the halls, past the many whispering servants and guards, mumbling as she passed by, "Wanheda is here." And past the many frightened whispers of "She destroyed the Mountain." "Wasn't she in love with Heda and her general, Onya?" "I hope she won't kill us all." The rest she heard wasn't in English or Gonasleng as the Grounders called it. It was in the native, Azgeda language and she only recognized a couple of words here or there.
Clarke tried not to laugh at the person who said the last thing that she understood. Clarke had no intention of killing anyone here. What was the point? If anything, the Azgeda was just doing what had been coming to her for a long time. There was no need to delay the inevitable any longer, was there? This was simply justice, finally being delivered upon her.
Did Lexa and Anya ever really love her? Well then, this would be like two birds with one stone, wouldn't it? Not only would Clarke's justice be delivered, but Lexa and Anya's justice would be delivered too. Lexa and Anya would be grief-stricken, knowing that they did not save Clarke from the dreaded Ice Queen. The only pity would be that Clarke wouldn't be around to enjoy their faces when they learned of Clarke's demise, found her head by one of their beds.
Clarke's one thought, as she was pushed through the opening, large, oak doors to the queen's courtroom, finding the wide white room, crafted from stone, bone and ice, eyes immediately finding two thrones, one Nia's and one that of a woman, a woman that Clarke didn't recognize or know the identity of, was Clarke had to wonder how the Arkers would take the news. Maybe they'd feel like she got what she deserved. She grimaced as she thought of that. Octavia, Raven, Wells, Finn, Monty, Bellamy, Harper, Fox, Sterling, Monroe. Surely at least one of them felt like she had had this coming for a long time. Maybe even Abby Griffin, her own mother would be relieved to know that she, the one that had left her to die at Ton DC had gotten what she deserved.
Her resolve almost crumpled then, cold sorrow that had nothing to do with the ice prison that surrounded her sliced into her heart as she went forth before the Ice Queen. She restrained herself from glaring at the silver floor, covered by three emerald, blue and scarlet rugs, leading up the steps of the platform for the queen and her companion's thrones. She kneeled down, chains and all, once she was free of the two guards and went down to her knees, palms of her hands to the middle rug on the floor, head lowered. She heard gasps all around the room, but said and did nothing. They thought it was strange that the great Wanheda was kneeling? They obviously didn't know much about her. Her life meant nothing to her. Not when every time she closed her eyes she saw the bloody, burnt bodies of hundreds of children and the part of her that wished to die grew with each day.
"Wanheda," Nia's voice echoed around the room, though she spoke quietly. "It is an honor to finally meet you. A pity that you were wasted on Heda and her dog general all this time." Nia didn't sound angered at the Commander and Anya's lover being here, if anything, she sounded amused. Clarke ignored the clenching of her heart as she thought of her loved ones, certain that even her own mother would loath her and lifted her head up, changing her position so that only her left knee was bent to the floor, her right leg standing straight on the floor as she kneeled. She said in a calm voice as she kept her gaze on the now standing Nia, who was watching her with fascinated blue eyes, smirking predatorily, "The Commander and her general's lover or not. We all know how that relationship ended." The queen's grin widened. "Yes, we do." She purred. Next to the queen, was a young woman with long, black hair and scars all over round face. She was cocking her head at Clarke and Clarke suspected that this girl was sizing her up.
Or trying to really analyze the young woman who was the commander and general Anya's lover. Either way. It didn't look like either of them were planning to kill her. A little strange as this idea was, Clarke had to remind herself that this was the Azgeda, and this was the royal family of the Ice Nation. It was one screwed up family. The Ice Queen had tortured and murdered Lexa's previous lover, Costia, beheading her and delivering the head to Lexa's bedside. The queen had exiled her own son, Roan. He was out there, never allowed to return to his homeland. Clarke couldn't think of one thing Roan might have done to earn such a punishment. And who was this young, black-haired girl? Neither Lexa, nor Anya had talked about any daughter that Nia had.
But that wasn't really her concern, was it? Clarke began again, uninterested now with what either monarch did next, "I don't think it matters what I have to say. What matters is what you choose to do next, your majesty. My life is entirely in your hands. I'm sure you will give me a fate that you know is fitting for me, whatever that fate might be." There was almost thunderous chattering above in the stone, bone and ice floors above where balconies had been sculpted by most likely slave labor filled the entire room before Nia looked around with a vicious look on her face, clapping her heavily gloved hands only twice and the gossiping almost immediately stopped.
Clarke could almost hear the racing of all the different hearts in the room at Nia's glare, even if she wasn't facing any of the other people in the room.
Nia finally looked back to Clarke, walking further towards Clarke on the platform, almost leaning over the end of the top floor of the podium as she leered at Clarke. "You will not even try to save yourself?" Nia's grotesquely amused face did nothing to frighten Clarke. This was what she deserved. She wanted to see Raven, Monty, Wells, Finn, Octavia, Lexa, Anya, Miller, Harper and her mother and the others again. But they likely hated her. Seeing them again would just hurt her. Clarke ignored all the painful thoughts blossoming in her head like the most poisonous of flowers as she met Nia's gaze unflinchingly, face holding no wrath, regret, resentment, sadness or fear of any kind, pain filling her as the burned faces of all the children in Mount Weather flashed in her mind, her mother and Raven's screams as the drills pierced their flesh and bones rung into her ears. "Do as you will, your majesty. I have nothing but complete faith that you will do what you think is right."
For you.
Clarke left that last part out. Not because she was afraid of retaliation but because there was no reason for it now. What happened next, happened next. Any protest or provoking comment was unnecessary and meaningless.
What she said or did next would do nothing to prevent that or spur it on further.
The queen did not seem displeased as Clarke predicted she might. The woman's eyes fluttered a few moments before she stepped back from the edge, sighing. "I was afraid of that." The queen said, clasping her gloved hands together as her eyes slanted to the wall in thought. "Well then, I suppose I have to use more convincing means, don't I?"
Clarke didn't react, but she felt her chest tighten. The queen was taking this surprisingly well. Something felt off. Was she going to be tortured? If that was the case, Clarke accepted that as well. It was what she deserved too. She didn't want to be tortured, but it would be well deserved. The memories that plagued her of all those children in the mountain told her that much as confirmation.
Nia had a reptilian smile on her face now. "Maybe I can convince you to change your mind, Wanheda. Perhaps seeing some of your people in my care will change that stubborn mind of yours." Clarke's jaw tightened and she almost sprang up from the floor. Almost. Did Nia have some of her people? The 100? Her mother? Did Nia have some of them? She quickly dismissed that thought. No. No, she couldn't think like that. Nia didn't have them. She didn't. She raised her head, defiantly, though she doubted it did much in the situation she was in at the moment. "Your majesty," She began, making sure her voice was clear of the thick emotion she had been certain would fill it, "With all due respect, I might feel more encouraged to believe you if I actually saw these people and recognized them."
Nia grinned and nodded. This action only made Clarke's heart fall. So Nia didn't find anything wrong with bringing Clarke to these people. That meant that there really were people Nia had captive. That wasn't a shock, since it was the Azgeda ruler who she was thinking about doing this, but were the people Nia had captive people Clarke actually knew?
Nia turned to the guards behind Clarke, "Saktar! Mathias! Help Wanheda up and let her come to the main dungeons where we are keeping our other guests!" Clarke immediately got up off the floor before either large, burly man touched her and turned to one of the guards, "Saktar" or "Mathias" nodding to him. "Lead on." The black-haired guard, whatever his name was nodded and without any emotions on his face, turned and walked, Mathias nudging Clarke along. The three of them, joined by Nia herself who walked down the steps till she was next to Clarke, smirking, went to the back, silver door, affixed into the wall to the left of the thrones' podium. Saktar pulled out a ring of steel keys, slipped the smallest one into the lock, turned the key and opened the door. One by one, each person went in, Nia grinning and nodding for Clarke to go first, an all too gleeful expression on the Ice Queen's face.
Clarke's unease grew as she went through the lit tunnel, torches in the clutches of metal claws grafted to the walls. If there was truly no one here that she knew, then there was nothing to worry about. She was going to die, one way or another, painfully, most likely, as these were the Azgeda people. And she'd welcome it. But if there was indeed someone she knew here, she had to protect them. Clarke ignored the growing tenseness in her chest. It was nothing. She was certain of that. The queen was bluffing. Grabbing at any possible advantage she might have. Even if there wasn't an actual advantage at all. If she thought it would help her purpose, even the slightest, the queen would grab onto it fiercely.
This was the woman who exiled her own son. This was the woman who had hoped to start a war between the Azgeda and the Trikru by abducting, torturing and murdering the Commander's lover. This woman was capable of any kind of wild farce, so long as she thought it helped her.
There were dozens of steel bar crafted cells they passed by, till they reached the one at the end of the hall, this one much larger and longer than the others and Clarke's breath hitched against her will when she saw how many people were chained up inside, bound to the bars, arms above their heads, legs tied to the barred walls. There were at least twenty-four or twenty-five or something. Clarke's heart hammered against her will as she leaned closer, trying to see their faces in the torches' light.
Was it them? Was it the survivors of the 100? They were too small and skinny and ratty clothed to be any Grounder she knew. The 100, barring Octavia, Jones, Harper, Wells, Finn, Monroe and a few others, had refused Grounder training of any kind and so remained thin and gangly. She peered closer. She looked at the faces, took a long, good look at them and found relief start to replace the fear that had been building, followed by many questions. These weren't people she knew. They were no Grounder or any Sky person, none of the 100. These were just people that the queen had dressed to look like the 100.
Clarke frowned. Nia couldn't be this desperate, could she? Even she had to know that these people didn't even come close to resembling the 100. She had to know that.
Clarke saw no one that she recognized. Not Raven, not Octavia, not her mother, not Miller, not Monty, not Harper or Fox, not Wells or Monroe. Not Jones or Finn. Not Sterling. No one. The queen chuckled, "So you don't know them? What a pity. Then these Sky people will die knowing that no one has claimed them. It sounded like these delinquents have already been through quite enough." Clarke stiffened, narrowing her eyebrows. Delinquents? How did the queen learn that word? Did that word still exist in this world outside of the Ark people? And that it was used in the context of the Sky Peoples' underage prisoners? Had such language of the 100 reached this far in the world?
The queen chuckled again, "Don't be too alarmed. That's what these youths call themselves. They say that they were locked up in the 'Skybox' and sent down here a few days ago by the person they call the new chancellor, a man named 'Pike.' Someone from the Farm Station, they said. Charles Pike." Clarke blanched in shock. Pike?
Pike. Charles Pike. Her and Wells's Earth Skills teacher? He was the new chancellor?
"Oh," The queen's grin widened. "It looks like you recognize that name. Are you convinced yet, Wanheda? Or would you like to see the ship that they came in? The big, clumsy, metal can?" Clarke glowered. The ship wasn't too shocking. It was most likely that everyone on Earth had heard of the craft the 100 had landed in the middle of the forest with. She turned and looked back into the square cage where the supposed delinquents were being kept, her eyes scanning each of their faces.
Each of them were shaking, eyes wildly looking out at her, pleading for her help. They weren't faking that, at least. These people were indeed in trouble. Some of them had dark brown, short hair, some of them were gangly with thin, black hair. Some of them were only slightly more muscled with thick, brown hair. But they were all scared. Half of their number at least was made up of boys and girls almost evenly. A small number had dark brown skin, three of them as far as Clarke could tell, were Asian, all three young girls as Nia's title of them as "delinquents" had suggested. Clarke then noticed the metal rings around each of the prisoners' wrists, their right wrists.
Their life-detector bracelets.
Each of these people had the bracelets. Clarke's mouth almost dropped. That one little detail, the detail about the wristbands being on each of the delinquents from the dropship in Trikru territory couldn't have gotten back to the Ice Queen. There was no way. That was a detail so small that it wouldn't have been deemed necessary to tell the Ice Queen. Because no Grounder outside of those that Clarke and the other 100 trusted knew about the significance of those wristbands. Unless the 100 opened their mouths about it, which wasn't beyond the realm of possibilities. Maybe they had gotten mouthy and people had heard.
Like you're one to talk. A mocking voice said in the back of Clarke's mind and she immediately glowered. Right. Lexa. Anya. If she just hadn't trusted the two of them, trusted the Trikru, then the children in the Mountain would still be alive. Perhaps. And her people certainly wouldn't be in more danger than they already had been. If she just hadn't trusted the two Trikru leaders.
A thought sprung into Clarke's mind as she recalled that the dropship that the 100 had arrived in had a symbol on it. One representing the station where the delinquents had been sent from. The engineer's station. Each station had their own symbol. The dropship these particular delinquents came in would have a symbol on it too. One that the queen would not know about. Queen Nia wouldn't know what the symbol would look like.
Clarke stared the queen in the eye. "Your majesty? May I speak to them for a moment? Just to ask them a few things to see if they really are where you say they're from." The black-haired guard snarled, "How dare you question-" The queen held up her right hand, silencing the guard. "Saktar. Silence." The queen instructed. "You may." The queen answered to Clarke, nodding to the cage. "Ask as you please. You will see that I speak true. You will not try to help them escape." Clarke nodded in thanks and turned back to the cage where the prisoners were, looked at the one right across from her, bound to the bars like the rest of the prisoners, arms above his head. He was young like the rest. Clarke would put him at about seventeen, eighteen at the most. He had short curls of black hair, dark skin, and light brown eyes. "You," She said gently, but loudly enough for all of them to hear, "What's your name?" The boy looked startled, as if stunned that she would address him. "My name?" The boy asked, slightly abashed as well as shocked. "My name is Edmund. Edmund Davis." Clarke nodded. Last names. Not a Grounder thing. But again, the Ice Queen could have learned that. "Edmund," She said gently, "Tell me, what station were you and the others sent from?"
Edmund seemed surprised by the question, but answered a few seconds later, "Um, the water recycling station, ma'am." Clarke nodded again. "Thank you, Mr. Davis." She turned back to the queen.
"The ship that these delinquents came in," Clarke said, voice somehow even, despite everything. "May I see it? Show it to me, and you will have my decision." The queen lifted her eyebrows, but didn't seem too ruffled by the demand. She nodded. "Very well, Wanheda. Come with me." She turned on her heel and went down the stone hallway, Clarke following after only after she took one more look at the youths most in their late teens at the oldest, some still appearing no older than twelve or thirteen, fourteen at the most, and turned back to look at Nia, eyes on the woman as she moved, ignoring the pleading looks she felt from the cage, being lanced at her like accusing knives.
As she moved, Clarke had to wonder, would she help those in that cage if they were not really who Queen Nia claimed they were? Clarke knew, or liked to think she knew Nia well enough to know from the Commander's stories that Nia would likely kill the people in the cage if she couldn't succeed in getting Clarke to join her, regardless of whether they were of the sky or not. But even if these people weren't Sky People, would Clarke leave them to die by Nia's hand? Clarke thought about it as she followed Nia out of the dungeon, Saktar and Mathias still at her back, the dungeon's door closing shut behind them as they reentered the throne room and went to the left wall, beneath the balconies, thousands of eyes on them.
Clarke ignored those stares as they went through the next door to the outside of the fortress, the freezing cold of the blistery, snow filled winds encasing her and the other three, wild thoughts flooding Clarke's mind. What did those twenty something or so people in that cage down in the dungeon mean to Clarke? Whether they were Sky People or Grounders dressed to look like Sky People, what did they mean to her?
The answer was horrifying at best, but Clarke knew what the answer was. Nothing. They meant nothing to her. She didn't know them. They hadn't fought together. They hadn't eaten together. Hadn't mourned together. A month ago it wouldn't have mattered. She would have helped them in a heartbeat. But now? After the Mountain? Clarke held back a choked laugh as they trudged up the snow cloaked hills where a dark shape was perched, far too tall and wide to be any person or animal. Obviously the dropship. It was a horrible thing for Clarke to realize. But no. The people in that cell didn't matter to her. She didn't want them to die, but what were they to her? Nothing.
Still, the question became, could Clarke leave these particular people to die? Even if they didn't matter and they really were nothing but total strangers to her, could she leave these twenty something people clearly asking for help, and people so young to die?
The small group reached the top of the hill, right next to the crashed dropship. Clarke took in the sight of the metal tube. Well, it sure looked like the dropship that the 100 had come in that resided in the Trikru territory. If anything, this ship was in a lot better shape than the one in the Trikru territory. Clarke's vision was blurry because of the snow, but from the looks of it, the dropship wasn't dented at all. From top to bottom, the dropship was in fine condition. Clarke was guessing that was because the ship had dropped onto a patch of very heavy snow, as opposed to hard forest ground like the 100's dropship had dropped down on. Even Raven's pod had been dented up when she had landed. And Raven had landed in the river.
Clarke lifted her head and scoped out the middle of the dropship, looking for the symbol. She ignored the chaffing against her wrists. The metal of her cuffs were responding in predictable strain in reaction to the freezing cold around them. Her teeth clenched as she felt it, but still walked around the dropship, searching for the symbol. If his was a hoax, then it was a very, very well thought out, elaborate one. Clarke would give Nia that much at least. Nia must have given both Saktar and Mathias the signal to allow Clarke to walk around the ship, otherwise she'd have felt the chains tug painfully on her wrists in protest, as both burly guards were holding the length of her chains. She finally found the symbol she was looking for. It was etched right into the back of the dropship. There was no way in hell that any of the Grounders would know about this symbol. It was the same symbol that the delinquent had spoken of. The water recycling station.
A symbol that represented the water system. A crouching, big bear, with its mouth full of salmon. It had always seemed crude, as before, on the Ark, everyone had thought that Earth was barren and toxic, and it seemed ridiculous to have any kind of animal as a symbol for anything on the Ark. But here it was. And there was no way that Clarke could think of that any Grounder would know of it. Even when Edmund had said "water recycling station," Clarke had felt her dread rise again. Because unless they were told, there was no possible means in which Nia would have heard of that station or the symbol for the station. The 100 sure didn't trust any Azgeda thanks to the Trikru's warnings of them, especially not Octavia, and she was the most vocal of the group. They sure wouldn't have told the queen.
Those people in the dungeon, they really were Sky People. They were Sky delinquents, just like the 100. Clarke breathed in and out, the burning snow and ice crusting onto the little bit of her exposed cheeks doing nothing to tear her distressed brain from its current thoughts.
"Well, Wanheda?" The queen asked, clearly not dissuaded from her task by the freezing cold either, "What is your decision?"
Clarke stared up at the symbol, going over everything in her mind. The twenty something people in the dungeon. They really were sky people. And they needed her help. If she bowed to the queen, the queen would let them live. The commander and Anya had told Clarke to never trust the Azgeda, but hadn't the two of them proven that they weren't trustworthy?
The queen turned her head slightly, smirking. "Well? What have you decided, Wanheda?"
Clarke thought about it. And thought about. She didn't know any of them at all, but shouldn't the twenty something people that had come down in this dropship get a say in what happened to them?
Clarke sighed, making her decision. Yes, she didn't trust the Grounders. She wasn't sure she could again for a while. But these people should get a say in their fate. And if nothing else, she could at least relish how Lexa and Anya reacted to her joining with the Ice Queen.
Clarke looked at the queen again. "Let me speak with the prisoners that came in this ship again. And I will make my decision, whatever it might be. I swear it."
The queen narrowed her gaze, now losing patience. But she nodded again and the four began their trek back to the dungeons. They got inside soon, Clarke almost stumbling at the overwhelming change in temperature thanks to the many large pits of burning fire and burning coals covering the corners of the floor, heating the room up. They went into the dungeons, the torches and the coals in the niches of the floor once again warming them as they moved. They reached the cage where the twenty something delinquents were held captive and Clarke walked over to the middle of the cage, peering through.
She leaned down and turned to the queen. "May I speak to them in private, please, your majesty?" The queen looked like she was ready to blow a fuse but heaved out a breath. "Fine. Have your privacy." She walked to the other side of the hall, gesturing for Saktar and Mathias to follow her. Clarke was surprised that the queen had done as she had asked. Yes, having Wanheda on your side was a very tempting prize indeed, but she hadn't thought the queen would allow something like this. She acted quickly, turning to the group. "I need you to listen to me carefully." She announced to the delinquents, making them look at her, surprised.
She kept her voice low so the queen didn't hear her, but loud enough for all of the delinquents were at attention, the stories she had heard about the Azgeda marching through her mind. "That woman you just saw? Queen Nia? You need to understand now she will kill you if you don't obey. And she won't kill you quickly. She will torture you. Skin you. Pull your fingers and toes off. Rip your bones out. Crucify you." She watched as terror filled the kids' eyes and they started whimpering. She normally would not try to get people to react like this, make them whimper like this. And it made her almost wince to see how frightened they were, but it was a good thing that they were scared. They should feel scared. They should be terrified. Surviving the Grounders was no joke, let alone ones like the Azgeda.
It wasn't cruel to make them be scared, it was common sense. It was common sense to be scared of the queen of the Azgeda, the cruelest tribe in the world. Though Clarke knew now that cruelty was in the eye of the beholder. She knew now that the Trikru were far worse in their deceit. But that was besides the point. They were not at the mercy of the Trikru right now. They were at the mercy of the Azgeda. And the Azgeda were the ones that they needed to survive right now.
"I need all of you to understand," Clarke repeated, "That these people will kill you horribly if you do not bow to them. Bow to the queen. Bow to Queen Nia and her people and they will let you live. Promise to serve them and they will not harm you. Do not say a word against the queen ever. Or she will take your tongue." Each word sent a new shudder through the small group. Clarke sighed. Even the 100 had had a better chance than these delinquents. At least the delinquents hadn't been imprisoned by anyone on Earth till the Mountain Men. She kept on speaking, the stories that the Commander, Anya, Indra and Lincoln fed to her about the Azgeda people helping the darkness of her tone.
Could the Commander and Anya have been lying about the queen's brutality to keep Clarke loyal only to them? Clarke now held it open as a possibility, but Lincoln? No, Lincoln was too good. Too genuine and honest for that. She wouldn't believe that he would have lied about Costia, or about seeing the Azgeda servants as a boy, servants without their tongues, ripped out at the seams for disrespecting their queen.
"They want me to bow to the queen. And I will if it means that you'll survive. But all of you have to bow too. She won't be satisfied with just me. She needs to know that you are loyal too. And don't say or do anything at all that will piss her off. Just do as she says and you'll survive." She took a nervous look at where the queen was, still out of hearing range and turned back to the small group. "You guys don't have to like her. Or me. But you do have to do what she says, if you want to live. The queen wants to use you as leverage against me. And I'm sorry about that. But if you want to live longer, you have to do what she says. Whatever happens next? It's up to you. What do you want to do?"
The terrified and hyperventilating teenagers looked at each other fearfully. Finally, one of the young, Asian girls spoke up, swallowing hard, "Okay. I'll bow. I'll do it. Just don't let her skin me, please." Clarke tried not to wince at the plea and nodded. "What's your name?" She asked gently. The girl swallowed hard again. "Casey Zhu. Please don't let them hurt me." Clarke nodded again, feeling her chest become tight at the girl's fear and forced herself to look around the cage at the others. Slowly, one by one, each of the group gave their names and promised they'd bow as long as Clarke protected them.
She mentally filed away each of the names that were given to her. Casey Zhu. Edmund Davis. Finley Walsh. Beryl Guo. Jesse Song. Blair Campbell. West Ainsley. Avery Brown. Bobbi Shaffer. Cameron Dunn. Cody Smith. Christopher O'Grady. Sabine, Simone and Lorena Thomas. (Clarke was a little startled by that. Two additional siblings that had been hidden?) Dallas Allan. Parker Reed. Glenn Goldberg. Frank Gomez. Martin Shell. Kristin Blue. Hodge Wilson. David Walker. Mario Bianchi. Bailey Shea. And Paul Stack.
She acknowledged all of them and promised them she'd do what she could. She turned back down the hall, not even feeling a sense of horror at being saddled with more peoples' lives anymore. It was just one more thing to do. Like putting more books on a really tall shelf or hunting an annoying, elusive animal. It was just one more duty that she had to fulfill. Her jaded eyes landed on the queen. "Your majesty," She announced. "I have your answer." The queen beamed and walked over. Clarke knew now how many people were in that cell. She had counted them. Twenty-six. She wondered with a saddened heart how many of them would actually survive all of this.
Possibly none of them.
Clarke cocked her head as the queen approached the cage. It was strange how much that thought sounded like a relief. The twenty-six of them wouldn't survive. Maybe they would be better off than having to live in this horrible world where you had to be merciless or die. Perhaps it would be kinder for them to die. Still, the twenty-six should get a say in what happened to them next.
The queen fixed Clarke with a cold gaze. "Your choice, Wanheda?" Clarke nodded, looking at the cage. "What do all of you say? What is your verdict?" A chorus of "We'll bow! We'll bow!" filled the halls, more foreboding than any war drums or war horns that were ever blasted. "Well," Clarke nodded, feeling no remorse, no dread now, she bowed down, going to her knee again and bowed her head, "You have my obedience and my submission, your majesty. I am your weapon, Ice Queen. Your blade. Your soldier." Should she feel horror at becoming an Azgeda servant? Probably. But if her duty was to her people, then she had to protect them. And the Commander and Anya had proven that they didn't consider her their people when they left her at the Mountain. So she had to protect those who truly were her people. The Sky people. At all costs. Someone had to look after the Sky People. And it certainly didn't seem to be the Commander herself, so Clarke would have to do it.
It didn't matter now that she was the Ice Queen's dog. Her rabid bloodhound. The Commander and Anya had made her their puppet and she hadn't even known it. At least the Queen was being honest about it. It was a simple and blunt, "bow to me or you and these people will be tortured and killed." A threat and nothing more. No mind games. No lectures about being a strong leader. No reasoning about how some sacrifices had to be made. No trickery. Just a simple knife to the throat. And that alone, made Clarke appreciate this woman. This woman, in that moment was perhaps the most honest Grounder woman Clarke had ever met.
The queen held her hands open, seeming to be pleased. "My dear Wanheda," The queen announced, and Clarke knew that the queen was grinning, "There is no need to bow to me. Not now. While I'm sure you'll try to escape a few times, you won't want to when you see what have to offer you. For you are to inherit the throne." Clarke froze, looking up at Nia in confusion, her mind now pausing with befuddlement. "Your majesty, I'm not sure I understand. How would I have the throne? I am not your heir." Nia shook her head, frowning darkly. "My son, who is of my own blood, proved to be weak. I had to to exile him. It might even be better for our kingdom. One weak heir is gone. It's simply cutting weakness from a strong tree. Now Ontari, my adopted heir shall have the throne. Ontari is much more suited for the throne. And you are to be married to her soon. The two of you shall bring me glory." Clarke felt the clenching of fear and unease at this information, but ignored it, maintaining a neutral expression. So she was to be caged in more than one way. But that shouldn't mean anything to her. This was just another job. Another burden she had to carry. One more obligation. Who cared who she was married to? She sure as hell didn't anymore. She had thought she would be married to Lexa and Anya for love. But they had proved just how much they loved her, how much their faithfulness was worth. It had been worth nothing.
This would just be another faithless, loveless union. Nothing more. Again, the only difference was that it was honest. It was just the blade to the throat. Not a mind game. A simple threat and command. Nothing else. Beautiful and almost innocent in its brutal and cruel honesty. That would explain who the girl with black hair had been next to Nia. That had to have been Ontari. Nia's "heir."
It was then that Clarke thought about Wells, Raven and Octavia. It hurt. She trusted them. They trusted her. God, she missed them. But she knew Octavia hated her. How could she not? Clarke had left her to die in Ton DC. And both Wells and Raven had to have caught wind of what Clarke had done at both the Mountain and Ton DC. They likely hated her too. If they didn't from those incidents, they had to hate her by now after she had left the remaining 100 and Sky people. And even if only Raven hated her for leaving, Wells? Sweet, moralistic Wells? He had to think she was a complete murderer after the Mountain. There was no way he didn't. There was nothing left to hold onto at Camp Jaha.
She nodded, bowing her head again to Nia, still ignoring the pain of her thoughts. "As you wish, your majesty." What did she care? As long as she protected the twenty-six, who cared?
"Sky children," The queen called out, making Clarke lift her head and look at the woman as the terrifying monarch kept her cold, icy blue eyes on the delinquents, "This is Clarke! Known in our world as Wanheda. The Commander of Death! She was once like you. She is from the Sky like you soft, weak children! But the ground hardened and molded her into a great warrior! She is respected by all! Feared by all. They tell legends about her now all over our tribes." Clarke didn't even wince, but she almost did. These legends were exactly the opposite of what she wanted people to have in mind when thinking about her. Nia continued, "She will be the one to teach you and instruct you. You will obey her from this day forth! For she is the only reason why you are still alive. She is your general, your leader and will one day be your queen. You will follow her every command."
Clarke heard the chorus of voices that solidified the twenty-six's fates as Clarke's soldiers in the queen's mind, "Yes, your majesty!" The queen walked back from the bars, smiling, satisfied. "Excellent! Rise, Wanheda. I shall release your soldiers." Nia gestured to Saktar and Mathias. Both large men moved forward with their keys and unlocked Clarke's cuffs, allowing the chains and the cuffs to fall to the floor with a thunderous clank. That noise sounded so final that Clarke's heart thrummed as she saw and accepted this. She was a monster. And she was going to train twenty-six kids that were just trying to survive to be monsters too. Saktar and Mathias moved away from Clarke and unlocked the prison door. The two guards went to each of the delinquents, unlocking their chains. The now physically unbound teenagers looked at each other and looked at Clarke. Clarke rose up slowly from the floor and nodded to all of them. She mouthed the word, "bow" to them.
Avery Brown was the one who took the hint first. She bowed, going down to her knees before the queen, hands flat against the floor, head of dark brown hair hanging like a curtain. The other prisoners watched, shocked. Their eyes went to Clarke and one by one, they followed suit. They bowed next to Avery. Edmund. Hodge. Frank. Glenn. Dallas. Every last one of them prostrated themselves before Clarke and the queen.
Nia turned to Clarke, grinning. "Well, I see no reason why we shouldn't proceed then. Now we shall begin these twenty-six children's training. Saktar, Mathias, lead the twenty-six of them and Wanheda to the healing room. Wanheda, as I understand it, you are a healer as well as a great killer. Tend to whatever wounds they have."
Clarke nodded, not even questioning. She wasn't going to protest. Funny, wasn't it? Nearly a year ago, before her relationship with the older woman, she had come to despise Anya for trying to get her to be the clan's healer during a time of war with Anya's army. She couldn't care less now. Just another duty needing to be filled.
Everything moved quickly. The confused and frightened twenty-six delinquents followed Clarke as she led them with Saktar and Mathias to the medical section of the queen's fortress. The shallow room, lined with carved pits around the room, filled with red coals on each side, a fireplace with a roaring fire at the front, had multiple wooden crafted stretchers, cloaked over with thick layers of animal skins and furs was what the medical room consisted of.
Mathias and Saktar showed Clarke the wooden box where all the supplies were. Clarke recognized each supply gradually. Clarke took the balm from the curved, wooden boxes on the shelves as soon as she was done inspecting them and tended to her cuts. She turned on Saktar and Mathias and coldly told them to wait outside while she looked at the delinquents' various injuries. Saktar looked offended, but Mathias laid a hand on his friend's shoulder and nodded. They walked outside, closing the door behind them. The "new recruits of the Azgeda" turned to Clarke, thousands of questions dancing in their blue, brown and green eyes.
"What hell is going on?" Parker Reed demanded, brown eyes flashing with indignation. "We're supposed to obey you, right? Well, what's going on? I'm not doing anything until you tell me why I have to obey that creepy ass woman." Clarke kept herself from rolling her eyes. Looked like she had just met the "Octavia" of the group. "Did I not explain it well enough?" Clarke said grimly. "The Queen will have your tongues removed if you say to her what you just said to me. If anyone hears you say it, they'll have you brought to the queen. At least if it's anything like what I've heard it's like, you will. I wouldn't even be surprised if they had me do it. That's just how twisted these people are." How twisted ALL Grounders are. Clarke didn't say. But it was the truth, wasn't it? The Trikru were just as bad as the Azgeda.
Because after all, hadn't Anya, someone who claimed to be better than the Azgeda, held all three Clarke, Finn and Wells captive and threatened to slice both Wells and Finn's throats open if her blonde captive didn't save Tris, Anya's second? Hadn't she planned to take Clarke as her healer, despite Clarke's pleading? Hadn't Lexa, a supposedly honorable ruler try to force Thelonius Jaha and Marcus Kane to kill each other, even though neither of them had anything to do with the attack on the village that Jasper had been responsible for?
Parker looked like she was about to start snapping again when Clarke interrupted, "Let's make something clear. These people aren't like the people on the Ark. They won't throw you out of an airlock like the people on the Ark would. You can say whatever you want about the council on the Ark, but at least they kill you quickly when your execution comes. But the Azgeda?" A cold smile touched Clarke's lips and it had the desired effect on Parker. Parker's eyes widened and she stepped back.
Clarke continued, uncaring, "The Azgeda? They won't just skin you. They'll peel the skin off bit by bit so you'll feel every. Precious. Painful. Second. They'll rip your fingernails off. Cut your hands open and systematically crush every bone in your hand, starting with the fingertips." Clarke narrowed her eyes at Parker. "Would you like to know how I know this? People I know have seen it done. Someone I know," Clarke found the name spilling out in disgust and spite, "Anya, she was here before on orders of the Commander," She spat the word out as she had Anya's name, "She saw something. There was a prisoner they had in their dungeons. Named Henrik. He was a bandit. He traveled here without permission. And his punishment for such a small crime? His back was flayed. His chest was flayed. His legs were flayed. One by one. They didn't even allow him to bleed to death. They cauterized the wound so he wouldn't bleed anymore. That's what they do to people who commit minor offenses. Would you like to say what you just said before in front of the queen?"
Parker had grown incredibly pale. An impressive feat, as the girl already possessed quite ashen skin. Clarke could practically hear Parker's pounding, terrified heart. But Clarke needed Parker and the others to understand the situation they were in if she wanted them to survive even a month here. She continued speaking, looking at the others with purpose. "So you ask, can't we leave? Can't we go somewhere else to survive? Where will you go? You know nothing about this world. Literally nothing. And even if that's enough to get it through your heads that you're in danger so long as you're defiant, do you think the queen will ever let you leave? Sure, you could eventually earn enough of her trust to go out on scouting missions or in fights. But you'll have to come back. Otherwise you'll be a deserter. And do you know what the Azgeda do to people that are deserters?" Clarke had the story burned into her memory. The one Lexa had told her when Lexa, Anya, Gustus and Indra had all visited the Azgeda once. That deserter, Cardan. He hadn't deserved that. No one had. "They're strung up, alive, have a hook put through their bodies, and slowly have their bones pulled out. Again, their wounds are cauterized so that they don't bleed to death. Don't want your deserters to die too quickly."
Clarke slowly turned back to the rest of the equally terrified group. "So," She began, "Anyone else think that this is a joke? In the Azgeda? They won't care that you're juveniles. They don't care that some of you are as young as fifteen or sixteen or younger. They just see bodies that they can use as soldiers. And if you commit a minor crime? No problem. The torture will harden you. Make you a better soldier. Stop. Being. Stupid." Clarke felt like this was partially coming out the way she wished she had spoken to the 100 during the first couple of weeks on Earth. "And if you don't survive the torture? No problem. It will just make the army stronger. Because those that weren't strong enough for the torture are out of the way. You might think you had it so hard on the Ark. And maybe you did. But here? It's worse. Much, much worse. Do what you can to survive. Keep your heads down. Do what you're told. Or don't. Don't and die slowly and painfully. Either way, do what you want. Another group was dropped on Earth. You might have heard of them on the Ark. The 100? I was one of them. They did whatever they wanted and a lot of them didn't survive. There are only forty of us left. We dropped here before all of you and we landed in a much more hospitable environment than this, and seven of the 100 died in the first couple of weeks. Think the twenty-six of you will last? Like I said, there's only forty of us left. How many of you do you think will be left if you keep acting out like this?"
Clarke shrugged as she went back to the boxes, looking at the balm and the stitches, "Either way just decide what you're going to do next and get it over with." Clarke grabbed the whole box and brought it over to one of the wooden benches a couple of feet from the ravine filled with burning coals and sat down with the box next to her person. She pulled out the large roll of stitching and the bottle of balm, one in one hand, the other, the bottle of balm in her other hand. "So," She said, giving every last new juvenile delinquent on Earth a neutral expression, shaking both her hands in emphasis. "Who needs to be looked at first?"
Everyone was frozen for a few good seconds, but slowly, déjà vu of what happened in the dungeons took place. One by one, each delinquent came up and pulled off parts of their clothing, showing their bruised or cut wrists, ankles, backs, knees, shoulders and so on. A nervous Blair Campbell, who if Clarke had to guess, were it not for the clearly young Lorena, was the youngest of the number, and looked up at Clarke with frightened, green eyes. Clarke tried to ignore the pang in her chest at being reminded of the timid Fox and the traumatized Charlotte and Jasper. Those frightened eyes of Jasper as she slipped the knife into him, ending him before the Grounders could get to him flashed into her mind. Jasper had been so fragile, so frightened. He would never have been able to survive long on the ground. He just couldn't. Every time Jasper flashed in her mind, his bright, terrified eyes looking at her pleadingly as he was tied to a post, primed to be given the death of a thousand cuts as punishment for opening fire on a village of women and children, killing fourteen people in a state of trauma, she remembered how Monty stared at her with murder and accusation in his eyes over killing his best friend and brother after Monty had been told by Bellamy after the Mountain what Clarke had done to save Jasper from torture.
But she couldn't live in those memories anymore. She had another problem now. She had left the 100. Fox, Monty, Wells, Finn, Monroe, Octavia, Raven, Bellamy, her mom, they were probably all better off without her. Probably all happy without her too. They weren't her concern. And she wasn't theirs. Their lives were probably better now that she had left. She had just been a constant reminder of Jasper's death to Monty, and a reminder of how harsh and brutal life was for Fox, amongst other things.
It was better that she had left them.
She eyed Blair. "It's Blair?" She asked, though she already knew. The black-haired girl nodded her head, frightened. "Alright, Blair." Clarke said, putting the roll of stitching down on the wooden bench, next to the box. "Let me see." Blair rolled up her left sleeve, showing Clarke the cut that looked deep. It was across the young girl's arm, thankfully above the elbow and below the shoulder, so it wasn't anywhere near either the heart or the wrist. Good. Clarke nodded. She looked at everyone.
"The first batch of you will be those with deep, easily infected cuts. I'll see to the rest after that." After her announcement, she had gathered up those that were in the most danger of getting infected severely. Blair, Hodge, Sabine, Finley, Glenn, Kristin and Cody. After a great deal of whining from each person, whining that Clarke efficiently ignored, with the exceptions of the occasional soft comments that the teenagers were doing great and the occasional pats against their shoulders, (none of which were genuine for her, just another duty) Clarke succeeded in sanitizing their wounds, stitching their wounds up, then wrapping the wounds, taping the bandages closed.
Clarke noticed after she was done with them, that Blair was sitting very close to her. The girl, who Clarke now suspected was no older than thirteen at the most, was sitting down by Clarke's feet. A little too frightened to lean against Clarke, but not wanting to be too far away from her either. Clarke tried not to snort painfully. Blair was wrong to think she would be protected with her. She wasn't a protector. She was a murderer.
She always would be.
She simply proceeded with looking at the last of them, Hodge's cut back and patched it up, he gratefully thanked her, grinning as the others had. After he had gone to stand with the others outside of Blair, getting out of the way, Clarke inspected those that she hadn't looked at yet. "Well," She said, "Anyone want to show me any broken bones or severe bruises they might have?" The next batch came up. Edmund, Simone (who Clarke now realized was Sabine's twin, they seemed to be the same age and they looked almost identical), Bobbi and Casey.
Casey had a broken rib. Bobbi had two broken fingers on her right hand. Edmund, now that Clarke had a good look at the boy who had to be about only sixteen, was bruised all over his shoulder and the right side of his chest, and Simone had a black eye.
Clarke sighed. It wouldn't make any difference either if she didn't do anything, would it? Either way, she was just buying time. She'd patch them up as best as she could. And that was all there was to say about the matter. She was just keeping them alive until the heartless Grounders started to kill them.
Yeah, Clarke's in a dark place right now.