I was debating whether to make this a Wellstia or a Lostia AU, but ultimately decided on the latter as 3B could have gone a fascinating direction yet still maintaining the A.L.I.E/CoL storyline. This will be told through both present and flashback form. Conversations in Trigedasleng are indicated in italics.
Note: This Lostia fic might be unconventional given it has Bellarke as a background pairing unlike most, where it's future Clexa. Give that it takes place in 3B (and well into s4) with flashbacks, most of everything that happened before this story took place as usual. Though it has the same worldbuilding as my Wellstia fics, where it's been two hundred years after ninety-seven years and not all the Nightbloods are trained to for the Conclave.
The soles of my boots touch the cracked concrete as I descend the carriage after Roan. The frigid February wind bites my face. The marks on my forehead tingling from the cold. Looking at the sky, it has a beautiful orange and gold hue from the early twilight. I have forgotten how beautiful the sunsets were here.
My eyes scale the Commander's Tower towards the top. It's trademark flame gone. It only confirms what we have been told: that the Commander has died and that it will not light aflame until the conclusion of tomorrow's Conclave.
I close my eyes and let the tears run down my cheeks. All those years, she thought I was dead and the devastating part was that she died thinking I died. That I was waiting for her in some form of afterlife.
A hand touches my shoulder. I don't have to look to see who it is.
"Are you okay?" he asks me.
I didn't want to come originally. I wanted to hide in the palace back in Azgeda and spend that time with Ermine. That the company of my infant daughter was more preferable. However, I thought it was best for my mental health and come here with my husband and Ontari. Though I plan on returning to Azgeda just before the Conclave begins.
If Roan and I were alone, I would have fallen into his arms as a sobbing heap. Though that wouldn't be possible with Ontari and our guards with us.
A Queen has to appear strong to her subjects. Though I wonder if Nia confused strength with cold-hearted indifference before her death.
I turn to look at Roan, putting on my stony façade, and say, "I am okay, Roan. I just need to provide myself some closure."
He narrows his eyes, like he's skeptical of my words. He knows me so well.
Ontari steps forward and stands beside me. "When I become Commander, I will allow you to get the closure you want," she offers. "They might not allow it now but once I win, you will be able to carry it out without repercussions."
The image of my sword slicing Titus's neck and watching as the blood pours from his neck replays in my mind. It has tempted me ever since we received the news that Lexa died due to "his negligence." As gratifying as it would be though, in good conscience I will not do it. Not only because he's the sole Flamekeeper.
It's mainly because Lexa wouldn't want that for me.
"I appreciate the offer, Ontari," I say, turning to look at her. "However, since he's the only Flamekeeper, it will not be the wisest thing to do."
Ontari shrugs. "If he disposes himself, I wouldn't be surprised," she theorizes. "No matter."
Killing himself? Interesting, but given his disdain for Azgeda, I wouldn't be surprised if he does himself before he inserts the flame in Ontari's neck. Before my capture, I have heard him say that if he was given the choice of giving the Flame to someone from Azgeda versus death, he would gladly take the latter.
Again, Ontari lacks two of the three pillars of the Commander. Titus would see her as unfit anyway.
"The Purification Ritual is underway shortly," Roan points out. "If we need to make ourselves known, now is the time."
The Purification Ritual. It's where the novitiates pour handfuls of powder on the cloth that the body of the deceased Commander is wrapped in and the ambassadors observe it. I am hoping that Anya doesn't recognize me, though it would be hard to hide something obvious from her.
It would give me another reason to flee back to Azgeda tomorrow at dawn before the Conclave begins.
Roan offers his arm to me and I take it. The two of us approach the main door with Ontari right behind us. With Echo and Yaxley following closely behind.
Nothing would change in between the Commander's. Five years nonetheless. Though that doesn't prevent the corridors from giving me a eerie feeling as we walk down them. As the floors echo under our feet. As if the place is frozen time. Just waiting for my arrival to change it.
It doesn't help that the blood is pounding in my ears and that a knot is tied in my stomach. Tightening as we continue on.
When we reach the double doors to the throne room, it's like the blood wants to burst from it's veins and the tightened knot in my stomach snaps apart. I could feel the sweat collect on my palms.
The guards at the doors stand in attention. Alerted by our presence, like we were unexpected visitors.
"Hod op," they tell us.
Roan's arm disconnects from my own and he starts at the door. "Out of our way," he demands. Pushing the doors open, he is the first to enter followed by Ontari and I. My legs feel like gelatin, though I resist the urge to fall down.
The ambassadors and novitiates turn to glance at us and one could hear the word Azgeda mutteredthroughout the room. My eyes don't focus on them but the linin wrapped body that's lying on the table before the throne.
I feel the tears prick from my eyes and I have half the mind to go over there to uncover her face. just to see her one last time and kiss her forehead. Though I fight that urge. Never again will I run my fingers through her mahogany hair. Never again will I look into those emerald irises that took my breath away every time I looked into them. Never again will I kiss her sweet lips.
"You," Ontari hisses in rage. I look to see her glaring at a blonde girl who's standing next to one of the novitiates. When she lunges at the girl, I grab her elbows to stop her. Ontari drags me to the ground as she lunges forward and my sweaty hands lose my grip. My knees throb as I roll to my side before Roan offers his hand.
A knife is removed from its sheath.
"No," I hear Titus say as I stand on my feet. Ontari is on her knees with a knife poised up in stabbing position. Her hand restrained in a firm grip by Titus. The girl is on the ground. From my peripheral vision, I thought I see Anya stand up from her chair. As if she's giving me a double take.
"Put the knife down, Ontari," Roan orders.
"Your mother is dead because of her," Ontari spits out, turning to Roan.
So, that must be Wanheda. Clarke kom Skaikru. Lexa's supposed new lover. Who performed that failed assassination attempt before that match over a week ago. I still find it interesting that Ontari never connected Roan to the assassination attempt since he literally provided her with the poison. Because who else would?
"You will obey your king," Roan drawls.
Ontari's grip on her knife loosens as she sighs and I take the knife from her hands before pocketing it.
"An unfortunate fact we have her to thank as well," Ontari seethes, glaring down at Clarke. "No matter."
Ontari lifts herself to her full height and Titus helps Clarke to her feet.
"When I am Heda and the king and queen bow to me, you and every last member of Skaikru will die," Ontari declares.
Clarke sends her a glare that would have sent Ontari six feet under if she wanted. If I'm not mistaken, Anya is directing a death glare to her as well.
"If you are curious, this is my wife Eirwen," Roan introduces, gesturing to me. "Queen of Ice Nation."
Clarke's eyes widen to the size of saucers though Titus narrows his eyes. Like he too is trying to place me.
"Pleasure," he says.
"I always found it peculiar that your mother wed you off to someone from a patrol division the Royal Guard," Anya points out. "I thought she would have chosen someone who she thought wasn't beneath you."
Roan scoffs. "She had her reasons," he says in a tone that ended the conversation altogether. He doesn't like it when people bring up his deceased mother. He was nothing but tool to her when she was alive and he knew that perfectly well.
I turn to look at Clarke. They say that Titus's negligence brought on Lexa's death but as I suspected earlier, there must be more to what happened. Perhaps she knows since it's strongly implied that she was Lexa's new lover given the lengths she had gone to protect her.
"I would like to thank you for the introduction," I inform Roan before turning to Clarke. "However, I would like a word with Wanheda in private. Some things need to be answered."
I could see that she swallowed hard. From my peripheral vision, Anya slowly nods her head with a furrowed brow. Yet she says nothing.
Though it's been five years, I still remember which corridors to take to get to the Commander's quarters. Which makes guiding me to it pointless. The doors open for us and I fight to keep my breath even as we step in.
"Leave us," I command to my guards as I look out the window.
There is a pause. "Your highness, we stay here," Echo insists. "If Wanheda tries to –"
"Did I make myself clear when I said this would be a private conversation?" I demand, not looking at her. "Besides, you and Yaxley should be watching over Ontari to make sure she does nothing rash."
Another pause. "Yes, my queen," Echo resigns before I hear her and her companion leave the room before the door closes.
I step closer to the window, allowing the descending sun's rays to bathe my face before she dips below the horizon.
"I have almost forgotten how beautiful the sunsets were in Polis," I murmur, intentionally making myself heard. "It was like an artist painted it on canvass with great care."
I hear footsteps walk closer to me and I look to see Clarke standing next to me. Awareness lighting up her eyes. "Costia?" she asks with uncertainty. "According to Lexa, Nia had you killed. Sent your head to her bed."
I let out a snort. "That's what that frigid hag wanted her to think. She was going to kill me until she found out from her chief torturer that I bled black. She wasn't going to let another Nightblood go under her nose."
Clarke pauses, like she remembers an important fact before she suggests, "You must be the ninth novitiate from Lexa's Conclave. It would explain why she was hesitant to talk about it."
"No, that was someone else," I divulge as I sit on the loveseat. "Now, I want to ask you something: it was said that Titus's negligence killed her. How did she die exactly?"
She takes a deep breath before beginning. "Titus was disappointed because she would not declare war on my people after they attacked a village," she starts. "Lexa enforced a blockade until they would hand over our current chancellor."
Skaikru attacked a village. How does that not surprise me? Especially since they slaughtered two hundred and ninety-nine people in their sleep. Some of them who have not seen a fighting day in their lives from what I heard. Though I don't bring up because it's not the topic of our conversation.
"After Lexa and I…after we said goodbye, I went to my room to prepare to leave when I saw my friend tied to my bedpost," Clarke continues. "Titus thought that by killing me and framing him, that it would get her to declare war on my people" She shakes her head. "He shot her instead when she passed through the doors."
It was like someone took out my brain, rearranged it, and placed it back in my cranium. Titus used a gun – a weapon that is considered taboo – to kill this girl and wound up killing Lexa instead? Just so she could declare war on Skaikru?
If Titus wanted to kill Clarke so Lexa could declare war, it only confirms that Clarke was Lexa's new lover. Only Titus doesn't realize that she would have done the same like she had when Nia sent her that head.
"Lexa never stopped thinking about you," Clarke continues. "She never stopped loving you."
I take a deep breath. Lexa. Gone. Her life taken after she was shot by a bullet meant for someone else. The blood reaches my face as the waterworks come back. Not only was her life cut short but she went in a way that was pathetic and unfit for a Commander.
I regret not taking the opportunity sooner to leave Azgeda and go back to Trigeda to reunite with my family and Lexa after Nia's death. Refusing Roan's offer to annul our marriage so I could return to my people with the promise of raising our daughter jointly. But uncertainty ruled me and still, I doubt my people will accept me back if I showed my face.
"If only Lexa knew that she killed Nia for nothing," I murmur. "That I was actually alive."
Clarke pauses. Like she doesn't know what to say until she clears her throat. "Anya seemed to recognize you when you walked in with Roan and Ontari," she observes. "I can speak with Anya and we can both arrange a caravan to get you back to your people. To your father, your sister, and brother."
I glare at her. "You think my father would accept me back after five years?" I demand. "That my clan would accept me back? Trikru resents Azgeda even after they joined the Coalition. They would see me as an infidel and denounce me as a tainted traitor. Also, by taking me back, it will put Trikru at the mercy of Azgeda. They will think I was kidnapped. I'm a queen now, remember?"
"If we tell Roan –"
"No," I protest. "I will not return to my clan just to be cast out."
Clarke shakes her head and looks ahead of her before turning to look at me again. "There is that Temple of the Flame," she says. "I know you couldn't come close to her but you might be able to pay your respects there before you leave."
Once again, I look at her. The Temple holds some possessions of the previous Commanders and after one passes, they put a few of their possessions in the Temple. Concealed in boxes. I would be happy to pay my respects to Lexa in some form. Even it means holding something she held dear.
"Of course," I answer.
We weave through the dark city streets. Careful not to step over anything that would cause us to trip on the concrete. Right now, all the novitiates are asleep. Tomorrow, only one of them will live to see the sun go down tomorrow and I have a nagging feeling who that will be.
A bunch of twelve year olds are no match against someone who is nineteen and trained for more years then they have. Though Ontari will still be considered ineligible since she wasn't trained here.
When we stop at the Temple door, my heart beats loudly against my chest.
"Well, here we are, your highness," says Clarke's Skaikru companion (who I thought Clarke called Murphy). The last words used mockingly. "Right this way."
I glare at him before turning the door handle. My feet echo against the concrete as we descend the steps. Behind the door, sharp whispering could be heard.
Clarke turns the handle and we slowly file in the room after her. The first thing I see is the pod in which Bekka Pramheda descended down in nearly two centuries ago.
"Clarke, why are you still here?" I hear Anya ask in concern. "Considering Ontari's odds for the Conclave, it is not safe for you here."
I hear someone walk forward before the footsteps stop. When I look who it is, I feel the blood drain from my face. It can't be. It is impossible.
Looking at her, it's like she's seeing a ghost as well. Given that she's pale as a sheet and her green eyes are like saucers.
"Costia?" she rasps.
"Lexa?" I choke.
Five Years Ago
The snow crunches under my feet as I navigate through the woods to find that wildcat that I saw earlier. For some reason, he thinks he might evade me. Though he most likely wasn't taking his paw prints into consideration.
Looking at the position of the sun, it's an hour before noontide. Its two hours before someone rings the mealtime bell for lunch. If my pace is efficient enough, I should be back with the dead mountain lion before then. Trek through these woods two hours after and it would worry father.
Considering our war with Azgeda, I'm not that foolish to give father a scare.
Not to mention that Lexa is coming to the village to pay a visit to discuss battle plans. Nothing romantic is happening but I don't want to appear too unkempt.
After a minute of tracking my prey, I stop and reach into my bag for my canister of nuts. As I start to unscrew the lid, the canister slips from my hands. It rolls away from me.
Blast!
I follow the direction of the canister through the trees and I'm about to reach for it until the can stops in front of a pair of boots. My body freezes as my eyes scale the person in front of me. Blue tinted clothing. White furs.
The blood drains from my face. He's not Trikru.
The man gives me a smirk before reaching down and picking up the canister. He offers it to me. "Is this yours?" he asks me.
It's like the hairs on the back of my neck are beginning to stand on end. Shaking my head, I back away. Only for my back to hit what feels like a chest.
Instantly, I turn around. There is another person from Azgeda.
"Well, what do we know?" she sneers. "We got ourselves a young one. Which unit are you from, girl?"
"Isn't this one of Tristan's brats?" I hear a third person pitch in. "I see her in the battlefield. Always situated close to him. She must be in his unit."
"She's not only his brat," says the first one as the blood pumps in my ears. "I recognize her from Polis as the Commander's lover. She must know a thing or two about that bitch that she could share."
There is only three of them and one of me. Frantically, I look around for a exit. There is one area that's accessible. If I shoot them and run, I could escape from their predatory gaze and make a run back to the village.
I stick my hand behind me and grab a arrow –
Hard rough hands seize my wrist and I'm thrown to the cold snow. Before I could get back on my feet, someone lies on top of me.
"Where do you think you are going, blight?" the first one hisses. "You are not running away from us."
I struggle from his grip and bite his fingers. My captive screams in pain and when I think I find the escape window, a hand grabs my head and slams it on the ground.
Darkness.