you never said a word/you didn't send me no letter/don't think i could forgive you/our world is slowly dying/i'm not wasting no more time/dont think i could believe you/our hands will get more wrinkled and our hair will be grey/don't think i could i could forgive you/the children are starving and their houses were destroyed/dont think they could forgive you
when seas will cover lands and when men will be no more/dont think you can forgive you/when there will just be silence and when life will be over/dont think you can forgive you
prayer in the c - lilly wood & the prick
The sunlight feels good against your skin, beams of light brightening up the forest, warming your face as you tilt your head up to the rays that pour through the thick canopy above you. You feel your body sway from side to side, a steady rhythm as you move naturally with the mare that bears your weight. You can hear the ordinary sounds of the woods that surround you as you let your eyes slide briefly shut; the sounds of wildlife scurrying across the ground, the faint trickle of water somewhere nearby, the call of a bird. It's been a long time since you've ventured into these woods, with it's giant, century old oaks; the home of the Trikru.
Almost four years, you muse to yourself, listening carefully as a faint sound catches your attention, a noise that doesn't fit in with the melody of the woods, followed by the crack of a branch. You become alert immediately, right hand reaching for one of the many blades that are hidden on your person as you remember the reason why you're following this path in the first place.
Peace never lasts, you think.
You feel your horse become restless beneath you, muscles tensing as it restrains the urge to bolt and you stroke her neck softly as you grip the handle of the dagger that is hidden at the small of your back while you lean forward to murmur soothingly in her flickering ears.
"Steady, girl."
You feel the shift in the air as the arrow is loosed and you hunch forward over the mare's neck, long fingers tangling in the black mane as you tighten your thighs, urging the horse into a run. The arrow flies harmlessly above you, the head sticking in the trunk of a nearby tree as you twist in the saddle, flicking the dagger into the shadows behind you.
A gasp and a thud lets you know that you've hit your mark and you smile grimly in satisfaction, urging your horse even faster as you bolt through the trees. You hear quick footsteps following behind you, and your smile only grows as they give chase, knowing that they won't catch you before you reach your destination.
Your blue eyes search the distance, looking for a break in the thick clusters of trees, hearing a warm, familiar voice whispering instructions in your head.
"Follow the coast until you reach the edge of the woods and ride north for two days, until you reach the road to Polis. You must not be seen or heard; their spies are everywhere and they will warn the Queen of your approach. Ride hard, Clarke, we're all counting on you."
You barely turn your head as an arrow skims past your shoulder, whistling in your ear as you continue searching until you find a gap between the trees. You urge your horse impossibly faster, until you finally burst out from the tree line and hard hooves skid briefly on the dirt and rock road. You turn the mares head, glancing briefly behind you before you push onward, knowing that there's no time to waste, and giving yourself no time to question where you're going and what you're doing.
Your people are counting on you and there's only one person now that can help.
Even if she's the last person on earth that you ever wanted to see again.
/
You see the great walls of Polis long before you reach them, as they tower above you, seemingly to rise right into the heavens. Scrap pieces of metal and wood, tied together with rope made from tree bark, surround the great Capitol of the grounders. Even from this distance, you can see the faint, hulking figures of the warriors that stand on top of the walls, arrows fitted into their bows, ready to guard their city against any who would try and breach it.
Your body is slick with sweat from the exhausting ride, as is Raven's, the midnight black horse that you named after a girl that you once knew, what feels like a lifetime ago. You feel a sharp stab of guilt as you notice the froth that is starting the form around the horse's muzzle, knowing that you've pushed her much too hard in the three day ride that you've taken together from the coast.
You had only stopped twice, for less than an hour each time, to let the horse rest and get it's fill of food and water. You had ridden hard for most of the trip, only slowing to give the horse a break and to let yourself catch a few minutes of sleep from atop it's back, lulled by the mare's steady gait. But Raven was strong, stronger and faster than any horse than any horse that you had ever met, with an air of determination and sometimes, a bit of an attitude, which is why you had named her after your old friend.
"We're almost there, girl," you say to the horse, feeling her muscles ripple beneath you as she runs. The walls are looming steadily closer, their shadow beginning to fall over you as you near the gates that remain firmly closed at your approach, hiding the city from your searching gaze.
Two members of the Trikru are standing guard outside the gates, their faces stern and their bodies scarred from a lifetime of battle. Their hands grip tighter to their spears as you ride closer, pointing towards you threateningly as you finally skid to a stop, only a few meters away. With all the strength you have left, you swing your leg over the side of your horse, slipping down to the ground with barely a sound and raise your hands to show them, weaponless, to the guards.
"Chon yu bilaik?" One of the guards growls in trigedasleng, his dark eyes narrowed and suspicious. He towers above you, with tanned skin and dark tattoos that swirl over his bare arms, muscles flexing as he grips tighter to his weapon. Who are you?
"Ai laik Klark," you speak, stumbling over the words that haven't been spoken from your lips in so long. "Klark kom Skaikru."
The two guards start at your unexpected introduction, their eyes wandering over your small but strong body, taking in your leather covered limbs and the weapons that are visible. You wonder briefly if you've ever met them before, knowing that you would be harder to recognize in your grounder clothing. You know that you've changed; your golden hair has grown long, littered with messy braids that now reach half way down your back, and it's lightened several shades in the passing years from spending so much time in the sun. You haven't grown much in your time away, but your body has changed much, losing it's childish curves and gaining muscle that now tenses and flexes beneath the stare of the two guards.
Your face has changed the most; harder now, since you lost the rest of your baby fat from your youth. Your cheeks have lost their roundness and are now more sharply planed, with a strong jawline that clenches with your nerves. Your skin is no longer pale, but is now a golden brown, bringing out the blue in your eyes; eyes that are the most changed things about your appearance, you know.
But it seems you haven't changed so much that the guards don't recognize you, because within moments, both men are staring at you in unabashed awe, dropping to their knees in a sign of respect that leaves you frozen with shock.
"Klark kom Skaikru," the same guard speaks your name almost reverently, even though it hasn't been your name in almost six years. His next words are spoken in thick English. "We welcome you to Polis, Skai heda, defeater of the Maunon. Do you wish to enter the city?"
You close your eyes briefly at the word, Maunon, feeling a lump form in your throat as memories, nightmares, flit behind your closed lids. You quickly snap them open, clearing your throat before inclining your head. "I wish to speak to the Commander, your heda; the news is urgent."
You watch as the two guards exchange almost guilty looks and feel your stomach drop, clenching your hands into fists as the second guard finally turns to look at you with apologetic eyes. They are a wide, stormy grey, and they remind you briefly of Luna.
(in a small moment of weakness, you wish desperately that she was here with you.)
"Heda is not here, Klark kom Skaikru, and we are not sure when she will return. She hunts in the woods, three days from here and has been gone for five days," he pauses briefly, matching your frown before his eyes suddenly brighten. "But, we could take you to her chosen, Saka, who will surely receive you in heda's absence. It would be our honor, skai prisa."
Saka, the name is known to you, since you have heard it many times before, especially recently. You have heard it whispered in both awe and rage, spat with hatred and once, torn from the bloodied lips of a captured warrior, who died soon after.
On the tip of your own blade.
Saka kom Azgeda, or, you think disgustedly, more recently known as the Commander's wife.
Which is just so damn fitting, you think. The traitors deserve each other.
"No," the word spits quickly from your lips, with barely suppressed rage as you shake your head adamantly. "These words are for the Commander's ears only." You pause briefly, your mind whirling as you think, unless. "Is Indra here?"
The guards face's light up almost instantly at your words as they both nod their heads, seemingly excited to help you in any way they can. You let a tiny smile flit across your lips briefly at their response, before inclining your head slightly. "Could you take me to her?"
They nod once more and with a shrill whistle, the gate is being pulled open to admit you into the city, and you can't help but take a deep breath at the sight that greets you.
You've been to Polis once before, many years ago, under the cover of darkness, but the sight of the city still takes your breath away. Wooden huts and stone buildings line the walk ways, along with a few half collapsed buildings from the old world and there is so much colour that it seems to burst from every direction. There are people in every direction you look, bartering outside stalls and walking down the main street with small children running in between their legs. There is laughter bouncing off the walls of buildings, and the voices of merchants who shout into the streets, grabbing the attentions of passerbys eagerly.
Polis is full of so much life, and you can't help the brief smile that flashes across your lips at the sight. It's warm and buzzing with so much energy that the whole city seems alive.
"Jeres," the guard who still stands at your side snaps at a warrior that stands just inside the gates, pulling you from your thoughts. "Escort Klark kom Skaikru to the pits, where Indra is training the seconds."
The warrior, Jeres, is a massive, hulking man, with scars lining his leather and fabric covered body and dark brown hair pulled back into a single braid. His eyes are wide and full of awe as he stares at you, his hazel eyes scanning up your body before finally meeting your stoic gaze.
"Sha, Redar," Jeres murmurs, giving you a short nod before beginning to lead you down the main street, where you follow, barely a step behind him.
You let your eyes wander as you follow the man's quick pace easily, taking in the small homes of the people of Polis, who stare back at you just as curiously as you stride along in their midst. Most of the houses are made with wood, though there are some made of brick and stone, along with larger buildings that still remained from the world before. You pass a bustling street of what you think must be the Polis markets, not so different from the ones you've seen in villages from years past, though much larger in scale. Farther in the distance, you can see a large, white stone building, standing high above the city in it's brilliance and you know that the building is where the Commander lives with her wife.
You don't let yourself linger on those thoughts, thoughts of the Commander, as you haven't for many years now. You still feel a prickle of bitterness, of anger at the thought of her, the faint taste of iron and bile at the back of your throat, but you push it away. There is no time.
Em pleni, Clarke. Luna's voice whispers in your mind soothingly, enough to relax your slowly tensing muscles. Stop fighting.
Jeres turns down an alleyway of sorts and you follow behind without hesitation, your sensitive ears picking up the faint sound of metal clashing against metal. The alley widens the further you travel, until you are faced with a rickety old metal gate that Jeres pushes open, before his hulking form disappears down the worn stone steps that lead down into the fighting pits.
The fighting pits are housed in a huge, open air stadium that reminds you of the football games that you used to watch with Wells on the Ark. Stone benches line the arena, enough to seat thousands, and the steep stone steps lead down to the blood soaked sand of the pit. You slowly walk down the steps, watching the fight between the two Trikru warriors that is taking place before you. The fighters can't be more than fifteen years old, still skinny, with too long limbs and lacking the grace of a seasoned warrior. You watch closely as one of the boys missteps, fully earning the painful smack from the flat of the other boys blade as he leaves himself open for the strike to his ribs. You almost wince at the sharp sound, though the boy doesn't make a noise, simply dropping to one knee before swinging his blunted blade in an arc, aiming for his opponents knees.
"Em pleni!" A strong and familiar voice shouts over the sound of the clashing blades easily, and both boys stop the fight instantly at the sound. "Nou mou. Gon yo we!"
You turn your head away from the boys, to find Indra standing at the other end of the arena, with her dark eyes locked firmly on you. Even from the distance, you can see the tightening around her wide eyes, her unhinged jaw that gives away her shock at your presence. Jeres stands at her side, whispering something in her ear before he also turns and follows the boys out of the pit, along with several others at the older woman's command, leaving the two of you alone.
"Sky princess," Indra says finally, as her eyes rake over the dark leather that hugs your form, her eyes pausing briefly as she catches sight of the sword hilt over your shoulder . Her voice is as monotone as ever, though you are surprised at the lack of anger that always used to coat her words when she addressed you. "We thought you dead."
The girl you knew is, you think as you take the last few steps down into the arena before your feet reach the sand. The grains beneath your feet remind you briefly of home, of waves crashing against rocks and the smell of the ocean. Weakness, you think to yourself, pushing those thoughts away. Focus.
"Indra," you say her name softly as you study the other woman, who hasn't changed much in all the time has passed. She must be close to reaching her fortieth year, you think, but she still looks as if she could cut a man's head from his shoulders with one simple stroke of her sword. As strong as ever. "As you can see, my body is whole."
Though my heart has blackened and withered, hollow inside my chest.
"Why are you here?" The dark skinned woman asks you bluntly, with her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, though the gesture is more natural instinct than threatening. "Last we heard of you, you had disappeared into the woods and your people knew not where you were."
"They still don't," you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm here for the Commander, though it seems as if I am five days late."
Indra's eyes harden as she holds your gaze, searching for something, though you know she won't find what she seeks in your hollow stare. You know that your blue eyes are a mere shadow of what they once were, no longer a window to your soul and emotions; showing nothing and hiding everything.
"If you come on behalf of the Skaikru-" Indra begins, only to have you cut her off firmly, politeness be damned.
"I do not," you say coolly, earning a raised eyebrow from the other woman. "I come on behalf of Luna kom Floukru."
Both of Indra's eyebrows raise at this new information, the surprise on her features the first show of emotion that has passed between you. "What?"
You sigh, glancing warily around at the empty stadium before locking your eyes on the captain. "Luna sent me. I've been riding for three days to talk to the Commander on urgent business, but she isn't fucking here."
(she's never really there when you need her, you think bitterly.)
You see the corner of Indra's lips curl into a smirk at your crude language, before it's smooths out into it's familiar thin line. "If it is on Luna's command, and the business is urgent as you say, we should speak to Saka str-"
"No!" You hiss the word angrily, the emotions bubbling up without your permission, earning another surprised stare from the seasoned warrior at your exclamation. "I cannot."
"Saka is the Commander's chosen," Indra responds indignantly, her dark eyes sparking at your hissed words. "She has heda's voice when she is not here to speak for herself."
"You don't understand!" You growl, fighting the urge to kick the sand beneath your feet in your frustration. You know you're acting childish, which is not what you want, especially in front of Indra, but you can't help yourself. You're so damn frustrated.
"Then explain."
You narrow your eyes at the older woman, receiving an angry stare in response before you finally give in. If the Commander isn't here, you didn't really have a choice. You needed help, Luna needed help and you'd be damned if you left this city without it.
"We are under attack," you finally say, your voice emotionless, despite Indra's widening eyes. "The Boat people have been under attack since the first snow, at the beginning of winter. It is only now that we come for aid, as the snow has finally begun to melt and we could afford to make the journey to Polis to speak to the Commander. We have been almost completely boxed in over the last three months and supplies are running low and the casualties have been too many. There are too many of them."
"Too many of who?" Indra demands, taking a step towards you, with her dark eyes lightening with a barely concealed fire. "Too many of who, Sky girl?"
Your eyes narrow hatefully as you stare at the older woman, and the name is spat from your mouth like poison.
"Azgeda."
/
Indra didn't splutter in surprise at your words, nor did she falter in the slightest; merely stared at you with cold, hard eyes. You hadn't expected her to believe you, since you knew that she held no fondness for you and what you were saying sounded simply unbelievable. After all, the Commander was married to the Azgeda prisa and if her clan was truly attacking another clan that was apart of the Commander's coalition, it would be considered treason.
So, you are truly surprised when Indra merely nods at your information, without a single moment of hesitation.
"We must send our fastest trackers to heda's camp immediately," Indra says, her voice lowered as she takes a step closer to you, until there was only mere inches between your bodies. "It will take a few days before she will return, but I know that she will ride hard and not rest until she does, once she hears the news. This must be kept quiet, for it would be ruinous to us all if Saka were to hear of this, to know that you have made it here to warn the Commander. I will start to quietly gather up our warriors to arms to come with us to Luna's aid, and I will double the watch on Saka, to make sure that no spies enter her presence to warn her. You can stay with me, so that none will find you and recognize you, until heda returns. I know that she wishes to speak with y-"
"No," you cut Indra off, the word slipping from your mouth without your consent, though you do not regret it. Indra frowns at your response, but you ignore the confusion in her eyes. "No," you repeat, softer this time. "I can't stay, Indra. The longer I'm here, the more chance that there is for me to be recognized and I need to get back to Luna. You can tell the Commander what I've told you and she can make her decision and send a scout with her answer to our camp."
"You do not wish to speak with her," Indra comments quietly, more a statement than a question, though there is little emotion in her voice.
"No, I do not," you respond, your voice tight as you hold the older woman's curious gaze. "But that isn't why I won't stay. I just need to get back. The Boat people are not equipped for this kind of war, they are a more peaceful people than the Trikru and I'm needed there. Luna needs me there."
Indra eyes you curiously at your soft words before slowly inclining her head in acknowledgement. She nods her head towards the exit and you breathe an inaudible sigh of relief as you turn to leave with Indra on your heels.
"I will escort you to the gates," Indra murmurs as she walks beside you, climbing the stone stairs to exit the arena. "I will have a fresh horse prepared for you and I will bring your mount with us when we come to your aid."
You nod your head in thanks, though you cannot stop the next words that slip from your lips. "You can't be sure that the Commander will help us. Her wife is the daughter of the Azgeda Queen, after all."
"She will," Indra's reassuring words are soft but firm and you turn your head to catch her surprisingly soft eyes as she stares back at you. "She will come."
You turn your head away from the older woman, feeling your heart lodge firmly in your throat at the hidden meaning behind Indra's words that sound loudly in your ears, nevertheless.
She will come. For you.