Clarke's hands were bound tightly together, as she was forced through a crowd of warriors, their faces painted white, and their blood smeared along their foreheads and cheeks. She could still make out their scars, both sinister and beautiful — the mark of the Azgeda.

She thought of Lexa, then. Wondered if she was still alive. The Ice Nation's attack wasn't what had caught them off guard, but the fact that Queen Nia had had some of the other leader's in her pocket. Convinced them that Lexa was no longer fit to Command. When they came, suddenly Lexa and Clarke, along with a few leaders who had remained loyal, and their people, were surrounded. The last thing Lexa yelled, was Clarke's name as arms grabbed hold of the blonde, and dragged her away.

She was stopped in front of a horse, who's rider she instantly recognized.

"Roan." She kept her voice even, trying not to think about all the times they had come to an understanding during the previous few weeks. All the times she had allowed herself to trust him. It was her own fault, of course. How could she trust someone who wanted the exact same things as her, but for a different group of people?

"Clarke." It wasn't the first time he had used her proper name, yet it somehow had the same impact as if it were.

They didn't speak as he lifted her up onto the horse, his arms wrapped securely around her as he tightened his grip on the rein. Their silence stretched into hours, and when it was finally broken, it was Clarke who spoke first.

"Your mother's going to kill me." Her words hung between them. "But you already know that."

The spite in her voice was more than apparent, and she could feel Roan sigh, his chest moving against her back.

"I'll talk to her."

"And say what? Your mother wants the power to command death. How will she get that by keeping me alive?"

"The same way Lexa intended. By having you join our people instead."

Clarke laughed.

"Why would I ever do that?"

"Because you want to live. But more importantly, because you want your people to live. Lexa has fallen, Clarke. Don't you see that? Once you're dead, your people will be slaughtered. I told you before that you could find a strong and grateful ally, in my mother, if you fight with her instead of against her. The choice is yours, Wanheda."

"This rope proves otherwise." Clarke said bitterly, lifting her hands to remind him they were still tied. She turned to look up at him over her shoulder. "I'm nothing but a prisoner. A fact I won't soon forget— and neither should you, Prince." His title shot from her mouth like an insult.

"Have it your way."

When they arrived at their destination, Roan was quick to jump from their horse, Clarke's body instantly missing the heat his had provided on their journey. They were much farther North than she had ever been, and the air was cold and crisp here. Roan's hands grabbed hold of her and lifted her down, the ground frozen beneath her feet. They were in, what looked like, a grounder village— only, there were three large buildings that loomed far over the people and their huts. Buildings that must have been over 150 years old.

The only other time Clarke had seen something so magnificent up close was when she was in Polis— but these were different. While the middle one was taller than the ones on its side, the three of them combined probably weren't as tall as Lexa's—though, they were wider. They almost reminded Clarke of a castle, and she began imaging Queen Nia sitting on her throne, ordering for Clarke to be burned at the stake like some kind of witch. Or perhaps she'll stick with beheading, for wouldn't it be poetic for Clarke to end up like Lexa's last lover?

The sounds of children laughing, momentarily distracted her from that thought. They were playing hide and seek in the market place, and Clarke almost forgot that they probably already had kill marks of their own.

She was shoved by two men, then, while Roan led the way. As they moved forward, the buildings seemed to grow in size, becoming more and more threatening with each step she took. Grounders stopped and stared. Some of them looked almost afraid, others looked angry— but there were a few that looked at her with, what could only be considered, respect.

When she stepped inside the middle building, a wave of heat wrapped around her like a blanket, the sound of a fire crackling coming from the centre of the room. Looking around made her feel like she had been sent back in time. The walls, and celling, that were clearly once very beautiful, were now worn, and broken down from years of neglect and radiation. Vines had wrapped themselves around the columns that still looked strong in the corners of the room, and a large staircase rested directly in front of her. Above them, there were several floors, a rusted fence, wrapping around each of them like a protective barrier. It wasn't until she was halfway up the first pair of stairs that she realized they were in, what use to be known as, a hotel.

The hallways seemed endless as she was escorted up each floor, and when she finally made it to the top, she was forced down on her knees— a repeat of her first encounter with Lexa after she had abandoned her. Only this time the woman in front of her wanted her dead.

Nia looked as frightening as she had the first time Clarke had seen her, the make up around her eyes making her look as though she had been crying blood. Her hair was pulled back, revealing her traditional Azgeda scars, and she wore what look to be some type of bone, as a hair piece. Everything about her, from her clothes, to the way she held herself, screamed Queen.

Power must run through her very veins.

"So, the Great Wanheda has finally graced us with her presence." Nia's voice controlled the room. "I trust you had a comfortable journey. My son assured me you'd be more likely to behave, if you rode with a familiar face. Seems he was right."

Clarke's eyes bore in to Roan's like daggers.

"What? Did I hit a nerve?" Nia asked, and Roan shrugged in response, keeping his expression neutral.

"Your much quieter than I was expecting." The Queen continued.

"Forgive me, your highness, if I don't feel much like talking." Clarke received a hard kick in her side from the guard on her left, and she bit down on her bottom lip, stopping herself from crying out.

"Show The Queen some respect." The man practically spat.

Nia lifted a hand, ordering him to stand down.

"Sorry about that. My people are very protective of me. I'm sure you understand." She reached for the cup of wine she had on a small table next to her. "I've had a room made up for you. Nothing but the best, of course, for Wanheda herself. I'm sure it will be much more fitting than whatever Lexa offered you."

Hearing Nia speak her name, sent an angry jolt through Clarke.

"I know what you want from me. So spare me the niceties, and kill me already."

The Queen's eyes narrowed, before she nodded toward the guards, who this time kicked her in the stomach. Clarke gasped at the sudden impact, as pain shot through her.

"If it wasn't already clear, I'm the only one who makes the orders here." Nia's tone had changed. "Take her away."

Clarke was lifted to her feet and dragged backwards toward the door.

"Oh, and Clarke?" Her name sounded foreign on the woman's tongue. "The next time we see each other, it will be at your execution."

Clarke's eyes met Roan's once again, as she was forced out of the room, his and his mother's face disappearing behind the corner.