Clarke's grip on a metal pipe tightened as she smashed it into the handcuffs that held her mother in place. She grunted with each hit, the metal against metal sending sparks across the concrete floor. Bellamy and Octavia worked at Kane and Raven's chains, desperate in a race against time. Clarke hit harder, clank clank clank.
"It's useless, Clarke," her mother stated blankly.
Breathless, Clarke shot her mother hardened look. "It's not over. Not yet," she commanded. She glanced around, the same hopeless, empty look in everyone's eyes. Less than half of the 47 were in this dungeon, and many of the adult leaders joined them in chains. Bellamy's sweat broke down his face as he grit his teeth together, chipping the wall with a blunt steel bar. Clarke looked to Octavia, the young warrior's brow knit in frustration, cursing under her breath. Raven leaned limply against the wall, blood seeping through her clothes. The others hung in their chains, the metal restraints the only object keeping them upright.
"We have to keep trying," Bellamy confirmed. Octavia simply grunted out in agreement, whispering encouragements to Raven.
Clarke nodded, turning back to her mother's blackened and bloodied hands. She went to strike again when her mother spoke her name. She paused, "Don't."
Abby Griffin sighed, exhausted. "Clarke, you have done everything you could. You're just one person. An incredibly strong person-"
"Mom, please," Clarke's voice cracked as she tinkered with the cuffs.
"Someone your father would be proud of. Someone I'm proud of," Her mother lead on gently. She struggled to reach for Clarke's hand, trying to still her daughter. "I love you so much, Clarke."
Clarke let a few tears fall, her knees buckled, her body collapsing to the wall beside her mother. "I couldn't do it, Mom," she spoke, too tired and hurt to even cry. "I couldn't save us."
At this moment, Octavia held Raven up as the mechanic was nearing unconsciousness. Clarke and Octavia shared a knowing look, the warrior taking Raven's hands into her own. Clarke took her mother's. Bellamy finally ceased his actions, out of breath and angry. He, too, held his weight against the wall between Kane and Clarke. He breathed deeply, gripping the metal bar until his knuckles grew white. "One last fight, Griffin. We've got one last fight in us," he grumbled to his sister and Clarke. The blonde simply nodded, wondering how long the Mountain Men would return. A few minutes passed before the loud stomps of the Mountain soldiers echoed in the halls. Looks like they wouldn't have to wait for long. Clarke hugged her mother tightly, the two sharing a kind and forgiving stare as Clarke stood next to Bellamy and Octavia in the center of the room, ready to take on the next round of soldiers. Bellamy was right. She did have one last fight.
Pow pow pow. Screams. Cries. Yells. It happened quickly. Octavia's ears perked up and she rasped out "Trigedasleng." Yes, it was the grounder's mother tongue reaching their ears through the cement and metal walls. Faint, hard to understand, but there. Gun shots rang out, ricocheting outside the room. Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a confused look, "Reapers?" He asked. Clarke shrugged her shoulders, baffled. There was something about the ruckus outside that turned her insides hot. It sparked the ember of hope that always remained burning. Her brain screamed to slaughter whatever came through the door, but something inside her said it would not be an enemy. More bullets crashed, screams of the dying piercing the air and the stench of blood seeping underneath the door. Whatever was happening outside, was a massacre. Clarke swallowed dryly, changing her stance and crouching slightly. Bellamy and Octavia assumed their own battle stances as the noise drew nearer. In the dungeon, whispers turned to panicked cries from those conscious enough to process the commotion. The blonde leader's eyes fixed on the door, aware but ignoring her mother's pleas and Kane's direction.
She had one more fight left. She would have one more chance at blood. One more chance to vindicate her people.
Then, in a slow second, the noise transformed. The screams of pain and sound of gunfire dwindled quickly, leaving a few moments of stagnant silence, before a chanting began, gradual at first, but then gaining momentum and force. "Jus drein jus daun, Jus drein jus daun." Two loud whacks on the dungeon door was all it took before it opened, falling flat to the floor. Before them stood a pack of grounders. Clarke recognized them as some of the Tree Clan's strongest warriors, their bodies marred in blood and dirt. They chanted heavily, entering the room, pride in their eyes. The Sky People gasped, both afraid and relieved. Clarke and the Blake siblings held their ground, the siblings narrowing their eyes at the people they once considered equal. The grounders formed a half circle in the room, clanging their blood soaked weapons together, repeating jus drein jus daun like a scratched record. Clarke readied to attack when the warriors parted. Indra entered through them, dragging an unconscious and possibly dead Emerson behind her, tossing him carelessly at Bellamy's feet. Bellamy backed away at first, but then the sight of the man enraged him. He went to strike but Clarke stopped him, for Indra was not alone.
Lincoln appeared second, his shoulder bleeding, his eye swollen. He limped toward Octavia, the girl taking not a second longer before rushing to him. The young warrior swung her arms around his neck, and he squeezed her tightly. Together, they held one another up as a pleading cry made it's way through the lines of warriors. President Cage screamed and begged, Clarke recognized his voice. He was being pushed into the room, but Clarke couldn't see by who. It wasn't until he was kicked to his knees that she saw.
She saw Lexa. Chest heaving, a wild look in her darkened eyes. Despite her size, she looked stronger than ever. Her grip on Cage was iron-like, the pain and pride behind her expression rippling. Drenched in blood, she whipped his head back by his hair, a knife to his carotid. Cage's face was blue with bruises, his suit stained in red. He went to move, but she kneed him hard in the ribs, Cage whimpering from the pain. "Jus drein jus daun, Skaikru. The Mountain is yours. This filth," she spat, speaking to the whole room, but avoiding Clarke's eyes. "His blood will be ours to share. The rest of Skaikru awaits below for their leaders." She took her knife and dug it into the shoulder of the President. He cried loudly, and Clarke noticed a small smirk on Lexa's lips. "We will take him and the guilty to camp," Lexa clarified. "And there, you shall experience a thousand deaths," she said into his ear, her voice stern and wicked. Lexa finally looked to Clarke, and the blonde simply nodded in agreement. Lexa spoke to her warriors and they took the President and Emerson away.
The rest of the warriors stayed behind, relieving the Sky people of their bonds, helping the weak and carrying the injured. Clarke stood silently. She couldn't move, she couldn't look away from Lexa's piercing stare. "Come on, Clarke," Bellamy asked, carrying Raven in his arms, Wick at their side. And because there were so many things running through Clarke's mind, but her mouth was so paralyzed in shock, she simply nodded, following her friends and aiding her mother out of the room.
In a few short moments, the room was near empty, the last of the warriors and Sky people exiting. Lexa stood grounded, her hands in tight fists. She wanted to say Clarke's name, to tell her everything. To explain.
"Commander," Indra stated tersely. She placed a heavy hand on Lexa's shoulder. "Your plan was successful. It is time to punish the guilty."
Lexa flashed her a look, a knowing look, and nodded, following Indra out the door.