The entirety of Polis was present for the conclave, just as they were for Heda's challenge. In front of the clan thrones, Aden stood side by side with the other Natblida's, his comrades. They were adorned in armour and warpaint, their weapons still sheathed. Titus, the betrayer, was before them, describing the sacredness and importance of this event. Sitting in one of the thrones was Klark kom Skaikru, the one they had all sworn fealty to, the one that Heda had loved even more than themselves. Clarke's face was expressionless, but Aden could tell that she was horrified about what was about to happen.
The Natblida's spread out in a wide circle. They unsheathed their swords, waiting for Titus' cue to begin the fight to the death. Aden's blood was coursing through him faster than it ever had, afraid of what was to come. Heda had told them death was not the end, but at the moment he wasn't entirely sure he believed that.
When the fight was signalled, they charged forwards, meeting in the middle. For all of that bravado, swords clashed halfheartedly with one another, as if they were sparring. None of them were eager to land a killing blow. Some of his comrades were barely eight years old. How was he meant to end their lives when they had barely begun? Heda had taught them to be compassionate, that love was not weakness. There had to be another way to select the next commander, there just had to be. Heda had already made some strides with changing tradition, of ending needless savagery. Why couldn't they?
Aden stepped out of the ring of fighters and dropped his sword with a clatter. The fighting abruptly stopped and his comrades looked at him in a mixture of awe and confusion.
"Jus no drein jus daun," he said loudly for all to hear. Both Titus and Clarke sat straighter in their seats. The former in anger, the latter in pride. There was a general murmur amongst the people of Polis.
"You cannot do this!" the betrayer yelled at him. "It is not our way!"
"It is now!" yelled Somo, his closest friend. She stepped out of the cluster beside him and also dropped her sword. "Jus no drein jus daun!"
The rest of the Natblida's followed suit in quick succession, no doubt beyond relieved that they wouldn't have to kill each other now. The uproar in the crowd was much louder. Titus stalked down from the thrones and over to them. He grasped Aden roughly by the shoulders and shook him.
"What have you done, boy?!"
"What Heda would have done," he replied unconcernedly, staring him dead in the eye.
What Heda always hoped we would do when the time came. He was sure of that now.
Titus snarled and shoved Aden away from him. He picked up one of the fallen swords. The betrayer had a crazed look in his eyes, and Aden feared he would now slaughter them all, one by one, starting with himself. Before he had a chance to do anything, Somo bent the knee.
That gave Titus pause. "What are you doing?"
"Swearing fealty to the next commander," she said, looking up at Aden.
Almost in unison, the other Natblida's bowed and began intoning the necessary words in their native tongue. Aden was touched that they would all choose him to lead their people, but he wasn't surprised. They all knew Heda favoured him, and because of the way she raised them, none of them bore him ill will.
When the vows came to an end, Titus staggered back from them, dropping the sword. With tears in his eyes, he fell to his knees as well. "Commander," he muttered. It was both a plea for forgiveness and an affirmation of Aden's new status.
He moved amongst his comrades, placing a hand to the tops of each of their heads, ending with Titus himself. The man trembled under his touch as if expecting, or perhaps hoping Aden would swiftly kill him and end his suffering. Aden didn't want to forgive the man who killed Heda, who took away the one person who had showed him unconditional love and acceptance. He wanted to tie Titus to the cutting tree and end his fight by a thousand cuts. But Titus was the only fleimkepa and therefore necessary for Aden's ascension. Besides which, jus no drein jus daun. The cycle of unnecessary violence would end once and for all with his commandership, just as Heda and Wanheda had wished. Just as his own gentle heart had always dreamed.
Aden looked across the arena. Klark kom Skaikru was already bowing. One by the one the other clan leaders bowed to him too, and with them, the entire populace of Polis. Granted, some of the clan leaders had hesitated a great deal before bending the knee, and they would possibly have to be dealt with at a later date, but for now, he would sit in the throne room atop the tallest tower.
He would ascend and be reunited with Heda. He was happy.
So I just sort of threw this thing together. Needed someone to have a happy ending for once. Hope you enjoyed. :)