Thanks for the support so far with this story! I'm glad to see that it seems like people are enjoying it, so far. Hopefully this chapter is able to keep that interest up.
There is a little bit of Trigedasleng in this chapter, and there will be more throughout the story. I will always put the translations in the notes at the end of the chapter, and if anytime I forget that, just let me know and I'll add it in. I'm using a Trigedasleng translator (don't you just love the internet?), so it's perfectly possible that it isn't entirely accurate, therefore apologies if any of you are fluent in the language (I am jealous if any of you are actually fluent in Trigedasleng) and see the errors.
Thanks all! Enjoy.
For almost a week, Clarke stayed at the cave, barely stepping foot outside it other than to restock her wood supplies and the food stores as they began to deplete. More often than not, Clarke simply sat at the fire pit, staring into it and trying not to think of all that had happened to her in such a short amount of time. Her time on the Ark seemed to be a whole other lifetime away, and yet in reality she knew it hadn't even been a few months since she landed on this planet. How had her life changed so completely, so quickly?
She tried not to think of her people, but found it impossible to do. She wondered what they were all doing as she sat in her cave. Was Raven, and all of the others who had been drilled for their bone marrow, were they healing well? Had Octavia and Lincoln been able to settle in with the rest of their people, or did they still feel as though they didn't belong? How were Bellamy and Monty, the other two who had played a part in the destruction of the Mountain Men, how were they holding up? Did they see radiation burns whenever they closed their eyes, just as she did? Was Jasper mourning the loss of the girl he had fallen for? Was her mother blaming herself for Clarke's disappearance? Was she worried?
Clarke thought about them all. A large part of her ached, yearning to return to them. They were her people, her friends, they looked to her to guide them, but she was broken. Shattered beyond repair, and no longer knew how to look at them without seeing the monster she had become. So she stayed away, knowing that she couldn't help them anymore. She had given every part of her to them, so much so that she no longer felt she had anything left in her to give. She had become empty, hollow, a shell of who she had once been, now filled only with guilt and the burden of being the one who had to sacrifice her own humanity so that her people could all keep theirs. It was a sacrifice she had made willingly, and would do again if she had to, and it was perhaps that very knowledge that kept her from returning.
Each night, as Clarke stared into her fire from beneath the blankets provided for her, she thought that the next day she would leave. She would leave the cave and travel as far as she possibly could so that no one would ever be able to find her. Not Bellamy, not her mother, and especially not Lexa. She thought about getting away, about finding a spot where she could truly be alone, and she would tell herself that, yes, tomorrow she would leave.
But she never did. Each night, once her fire died out and she felt herself fall into sleep, her dreams would plague her, showing her the violent images that were never far from her mind. Burning bodies. Missing limbs. Eyes staring accusingly at her, mouths crying out in pain, in anger, in fear and desperation. Guns, spears, arrows. Weapons firing everywhere, and bodies falling all around her. The people she cared about, staring up at her from lifeless eyes. The sound of a drill whirring, only to be drowned out in battle cries. Blood. Fire. Enough of both to drown an entire nation. It all came to Clarke in her dreams, forcing her to see what she so desperately tried to unsee. And so she would wake, jolted back to consciousness, her body quaking, breath barely reaching her lungs, eyes stinging with unshed tears. Each night the dreams came to her, and each night she tried to pretend they weren't slowly killing her.
Because of the dreams she barely slept. If she was lucky, she managed to get a couple of hours of rest in before the visions would force her awake, but seldom was she that lucky. And so every morning as she rose from beneath her blankets, she did so with weariness, her limbs heavy, eyes tired, and even the thought of leaving the cave was more effort than she had the energy to put in to it. Instead she would build the fire back up, return to her spot next to it, and once again fail to not think of anything at all as she stared into the dancing flames.
On her sixth day at the cave, she began to regret not leaving sooner when she suddenly heard a sound just outside her cave as though a large animal was moving around. She moved as silently as she could, grabbing her gun from beside her and letting her fingers circle around the grip tightly. She got up quietly, moving slowly to the mouth of the cave, unsure of what she would find. What she saw caused the nervous tension to leave her, immediately replaced with anger as her jaw tightened and her shoulders squared. Stepping out of the cave she called, "What they hell are you doing here? You're not supposed to check up on me, that's not what we talked about."
Lexa looked down at the blonde girl from atop her horse, her eyes sweeping over her, quickly taking in every detail of the girl before her. She noticed the dark circles beneath those blue eyes, saw how tired those eyes looked. She noted the tension flowing through the other girl, from the tight grip on her gun to the way she stood with her feet spread apart, as though prepared to attack or to run. She noticed the pull of her lips as they turned down into a frown, matching the glare from her eyes. All of this she noticed in a second, but she commented on none of it. Clarke did not need to be told that her body continued to weaken; Lexa knew she could feel it, and while the thought terrified the brunette, she knew the blonde would not wish to hear it. So instead she focused on the blonde's words.
"I am not here to check up on you, Clarke," she replied, then allowed herself to add, "Though I do admit, I am glad to see that you are still here." When the blonde only glared at her harder, Lexa fought to keep her sigh from escaping, her success not doing anything to lessen her worry. "I am here to tell you that in two days I will be taking some of my warriors to Mount Weather," she informed the blonde, and when she saw the other girl's eyes widen in shock, she continued, "The dead must be seen to, Clarke. The ways of my people do not allow for their bodies to remain behind. They must be cleansed, so that the pain of my people can be cleansed as well."
"You're... You're going back... back to Mount Weather," Clarke repeated dumbly, her brain unable to fully process the words. Lexa merely nodded. Clarke shook her head, her eyes closing just briefly as she said, "I don't, I don't understand."
"Blood has had blood, Clarke," Lexa replied easily, her posture remaining perfectly straight atop her horse, even as the beast began to fidget beneath her, clearly not wanting to just stand there much longer. "Now the dead must be seen to. They must burn, so that the fire can cleanse away the pain and suffering that they have caused my people for so long. I have come to you simply to inform you that the smoke you may see will be nothing to worry about. You, and your people, will be safe."
Clarke's mind raced, still stuck on the idea of Lexa returning to Mount Weather. Her eyes scanned the brunette's face, and while she couldn't entirely read it, she saw a glimpse of something in those green eyes. She frowned, trying to figure out what it was.
"There's more," she stated, her eyes still scanning Lexa's, "There's another reason. Something you're not telling me."
Lexa's face tilted a little higher, and Clarke knew it was true. She held Lexa's gaze until she saw the brunette let out a silent breath, her chest rising and then falling as she did so. Finally Lexa gave the smallest of nods.
"There are those among my people who do not believe the stories," she informed the blonde, and Clarke turned her head slightly, eyebrows pulling down. "The Mountain Men have plagued my people for so many years, many of them do not believe that you and your people could have possibly brought them down. They believe the stories to be lies and fear that your people have merely made an alliance with the Mountain Men. Those who believe this think that your people are waiting to attack us, and that you plan to wipe us out. They believe that we should attack you first, destroy you before you can destroy us." Lexa maintained eye contact with Clarke as she spoke, reading the emotions that flew across the blonde's face. Anger. Betrayal. Fear. All the same emotions she had shown when first Lexa informed her about her deal with the Mountain Men. All emotions that cut through Lexa like a knife. "I lead my warriors to Mount Weather to see to the dead, yes, but I also lead them to be witnesses to the truth of what has happened. I lead them there so that they may return to my people's villages, to tell that our enemy has truly been defeated, that the stories are not just tales. I lead them so that the peace that remains between our peoples, however tentative it is, will remain. But before I lead my people there, I had to come to you first, Clarke. I had to make sure you knew that you and your people are safe."
Clarke opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. As Lexa's words continued to register in her head, the blonde simply couldn't think of anything to say. Her heart ached as she registered the true care in the brunette's words, reminding her what they had almost had before Lexa had walked away. Clarke hadn't known she'd wanted it, hadn't realized how much she had come to feel for this other girl, until she had watched Lexa's back as she had left her alone outside their enemy's door. The knife in her gut twisted then as it did now, the sharp pain simply reminding her that no matter what the brunette said, Clarke could never trust her. So rather than fall into the care laced into her words, Clarke just set her jaw, her gaze not wavering. Finally she nodded.
"If your people need proof, then go," she told the brunette. "Because if even one of them attacks my people, there will be war, and this time it won't stop until everyone from one side is dead. I took down Mount Weather; if I have to, I'll take your people down too, Lexa. I won't let my people die."
She watched as Lexa's jaw tightened, her eyebrows lifting just slightly, the threat to her people pushing past her care for the blonde.
"I do not wish for that war, Clarke," she replied, her tone as even as ever though the blonde could see a number of emotions battling in her eyes. "I am doing all in my power to prevent it from happening. My people have been at war long enough."
Clarke nodded, not saying anything, and after a second Lexa returned the nod before drawing on the reins of her horse, urging the beast to turn around and return to the path they had come from. Before they could disappear however, Lexa heard Clarke call quietly, "Lexa?" She turned in the saddle, pulling the horse to a stop. She met Clarke's eyes once again, raising her eyebrows in a silent question. Clarke paused for another second, and just as Lexa was about to turn to continue on her way, the blonde finally called, "Thank you. For the warning." The brunette nodded once again, her emotions once again battling inside her as she saw Clarke's face soften just slightly even as her eyes remained guarded. Without another word from either of them, Lexa turned back around and flicked the reins gently, urging her horse to move once again. Clarke once again watched her disappear before returning to the cave and her fire.
/
For hours, Clarke sat and stared into the flames, her emotions in a turmoil. Lexa and her warriors were returning to Mount Weather. Not to fight, but to take care of the dead. Even if it was only to prove to her people their enemy was defeated, they would still be seeing to all those bodies Clarke had simply left behind to rot, her need to get her people back home overpowering her need to care for the dead. She had just left them where they had all fallen, barely able to look at them. They hadn't deserved that: few of them had deserved death, and even fewer of them deserved to be left to rot away. Maya didn't deserve that. Her people, the people who had just wanted to be able to live a normal life, didn't deserve that.
With a growl the blonde stood up, kicking the burning log in front of her to the side before she moved to the back of the cave, grabbing her pack and quickly filling it with the supplies she knew she would need. With a scowl on her face, Clarke left the safety of her cave, not bothering to care that the sun had begun to set. The moon would be out soon, and its light would be enough to guide her back to the hell that she hadn't been able to stop thinking about ever since she pulled that lever.
/
Lexa rode at the front of the line, Indra riding to her left behind her, with Walsh, one of her most trusted warriors from Polis, riding behind her on her right. The three rode in silence as they led a hundred warriors through the trees, the steady uphill climb doing nothing to tire their horses. With each step she could feel the warriors behind her tensing up further, but she showed a relaxed back, her shoulders squared in confidence rather than fear. If they sensed any fear from her, then they would only believe the stories further, and she could not have that. Still, it was hard to appear relaxed; though she knew her enemies to be dead, this land that they now traveled on had led to nothing but death for her people for too long, and it was impossible to erase all that history in such a short time. Nevertheless, she sat with confidence, not allowing her body to show the slightest bit of concern.
Finally they broke out from among the trees, riding across the small expanse that led to that great iron door, and when Lexa saw the small figure standing before it, she allowed the corners of her lips to turn up into the smallest of smiles. Indra, behind her, did not share in her happiness.
"Chit ste em doing hir?" she growled, and even without turning Lexa knew she was shooting daggers at the blonde with her glare.
"Shof op, Indra," Lexa demanded quietly, and though she was sure the woman's glare never changed, she listened, clenching her jaw tightly to keep any other words from escaping.
Lexa led her people forward, stopping only a few feet away from the blonde, and even though she must have heard them approaching long before, the blonde didn't bother to turn around. Lexa released her hold on the reins, using her arms to push herself up so that she could swing one leg over the back of her horse, her feet landing firmly on the ground. She heard two other sets of boots hit the ground just before she heard the rest of her warriors begin to dismount, and held up her hand, silently telling her two followers to remain where they were. Alone, she stepped forward, moving beside the blonde as she merely continued to stare at the door in front of her. While Clarke stared at the door, Lexa stared at Clarke, her eyes taking in everything about the girl beside her. Everything about the moment merely reminded Lexa of the similar moment they had had only two weeks before. Since then, everything had changed, and yet here they were again.
"You are here," Lexa merely stated, breaking the silence between them.
"I'm here," Clarke replied evenly, her face hard as she continued to stare at the door before her.
"Why?" Lexa asked, even though she knew the reason.
"I killed them," Clarke answered, her tone quiet but hard. "I should be one of the ones to put them to rest."
Lexa nodded, and then turned so that she too was staring at the door. The words, she knew, were easier said than done. Rather than say so however, she simply stared ahead of her while her small army stood behind the two young leaders, waiting for their orders. They hadn't defeated their enemy together: Lexa had not been given the luxury of that option. But together they could put the enemy to rest, forever ending the power Mount Weather had over both their people. That they could do together, and Lexa would see to it they did, just as soon as Clarke was ready to step foot back into the place where she had had to make a decision that Lexa knew had changed her forever.
Her gaze flickering to Clarke once again, easily reading the hard clench of her jaw, set of her brow and pain in her eyes, Lexa felt her heart ache again for the girl, but pushed it to the side. There was work that must be done, and the fact that Clarke was here to help them did not change that. So Lexa turned, her eyes sweeping over her people. Indra and Walsh still stood next to their horses, his gaze on her while Indra continued to glare at the blonde's back, untrusting as ever. The rest of her warriors stood behind them, their own gazes going back and forth between her and the blonde. All of these warriors had been a part of the attack on Mount Weather and many of them had probably last witnessed Clarke in this exact position. While Indra looked at the blonde with mistrust, Lexa noticed that many of her other warriors looked at the blonde with respect. The realization tugged at the corners of her lips, trying to draw forth a smile. She ignored that, maintaining a straight face as she addressed her people.
"You all know why we are here," she told them loudly, speaking in English for Clarke's sake. "The Mountain Men are dead, but their bodies remain behind. With fire we will put them to rest and cleanse the pain they brought to our people. With fire we will move forward." Her eyes scanned them all, watching as many stood straighter, others clenched their jaws, some lifted their heads. These were her people, and they listened to her as they always did. She saw the few anxious stares turn to the great iron door, now hung open when last they had been here it had been closed. There was a fear among them, a nervous hum that even Lexa felt. Behind that door was where their enemy had hunted them for decades, capturing them, draining them of their blood and turning them into monsters. The last time they had been there it had been with an army, the largest army her people had ever known. Now they stood there, a mere one hundred warriors, and not all of those warriors believed their enemy to be truly dead. It did not matter though: she was their leader, their commander, and they would do as she ordered, follow where she led.
With a nod to them all she turned back around, her gaze once again going to the iron door. It was daunting just in its size, but it would not stop her this time as it had before. Without taking her eyes from the door she murmured to the girl standing beside her, "Are you ready, Clarke?"
"No," was the quiet reply from between clenched teeth, but nevertheless the blonde stepped forward and Lexa followed her, listening as her people followed her.
Clarke led the way inside, taking them down hallways and corridors, and as they walked Lexa's eyes scanned all around her. Everything about this place was unfamiliar to her, and even the air felt different as she walked down the many hallways. Her fingers itched to draw her sword, feeling defenseless with her weapon strapped to her back and not in her hand, but she had to show her people she did not fear. She heard many of her people draw their own weapons, clearly unable to believe as completely in the safety of their surroundings as she had to. It was only then, at the thought of weapons that Lexa looked to Clarke's hands, realizing she did not have her gun out. Her eyes shifted to the pack hanging from the blonde's back, and the Commander felt certain that it was there that the younger leader's weapon could be found. She at least knew of the certainty of their safety, and the thought once again caused Lexa to feel a tug at her heart.
After long minutes of walking, going down concrete hallways and corridors, stairs leading them further and further down until Lexa felt almost as though she couldn't breathe, her heart nearly racing as she tried not to think about how far they had gone from the surface, Clarke finally stopped outside of a door. Lexa stopped beside her and heard all of her people stop as well. The blonde stared at the door, her jaw clenching tighter.
"Most of them are in there," she whispered, and Lexa noticed her hands shake before she balled them into fists.
The Commander wished to give her the time she needed, but she could not do it, not with a hundred warriors at their backs, already strung too tightly with unease. So the young leader lifted her chin and stepped forward, pushing the door open and entering the room. Clarke did not follow immediately, and the next two to enter were Indra and Walsh, Indra once again shooting a glare at the blonde that was ignored.
Lexa's eyes swept over the sight before her, her jaw clenching. Bodies laid everywhere, one on top of another, red sores long since dried up but still far too evident on their skin. Flies and other bugs buzzed around, going from one lifeless form to the next. Lexa's stomach turned at the sight, but she fought it. She had seen too many horrible things in her lifetime to allow this to make her sick, but it came close. She heard murmurs from some of her people as they entered the room, but other than that it remained silent, the sound of boots against the hard floor the only sound other than the flies buzzing. The sight before them was simply too horrible for words.
All of these people were dead, and all had died a death that terrified the young leader. She had grown up understanding the power of a sword or arrow or spear. She understood pain, knew that it could come easily from steel or rock or strong hands. She had been taught to respect these things, had been taught that all warriors died, that all death was painful, but that some deaths meant more than others. She understood the death of a warrior, understood taking a sword to the chest or having an arrow pierce through flesh and bone. These were all deaths she accepted, knowing that one day one of those deaths awaited her. She had been responsible for delivering all of these deaths to countless others and carried those deaths everywhere she went.
This was not a death she knew, nor was it one she understood. She had felt the burn of a fire many times in her life, from the white-hot burn of heated metal to flames leaping angrily before her. That burn she understood, and she even understood the burn of the biting cold. She knew what it felt like to push through a wind or water so cold that it burned. All of these burns she knew; the burns along her enemies' skin she did not understand. Never had she heard of air being able to do this to a person, unless it was the acid fog that these very people had controlled. Now she saw the power that even just the very air had over some people, and what she saw horrified her, no matter how well she hid it.
A set of footsteps moved up to her, and Lexa didn't have to look to know the blonde had finally stepped into the room.
"Now your people know the truth," she said quietly, a hard edge to her words. "There's no denying it anymore."
"I never believed otherwise," Lexa replied, her voice also quiet. Clarke made no indication of replying, so Lexa turned to her people, many of whom were standing along the edges of the room, some of whom still stood in the hallway. The bodies on the floor were too many, leaving little room for her warriors. Her eyes landed on Indra and Walsh, nodding to them. They saw, and carefully made their way over to the Commander. "Send a third of our warriors out to begin building the pyres. They will need to be large, and there will need to be many of them. Send another five out as lookouts; just because our enemy is dead does not mean there is not other danger out there. Three more are to look after the horses. Rotate people around so that all help clear out the dead at some point."
"Sha, Heda," they said in unison and then turned, both shouting orders. She saw a number of warriors turn and walk back down the corridor and she wondered if they weren't almost happy to be leaving this room that smelled so much of death.
As they left, Lexa once again addressed those remaining.
"We will take the bodies outside," she informed them, her words as unwavering as ever. "Be gentle with them. Work in twos to lift them."
A number of her warriors nodded, and a light murmuring of "Sha Heda," was heard, and then they began to move, breaking up into twos and beginning the long work before them. She watched as they moved, carefully lifting the bodies from the hard floor, disturbing the flies that had come to rest on them. No one talked, the weight of their work pulling on them all.
Lexa turned to the blonde who still stood next to her, her eyes still hard as she stared at the sight before her.
"Clarke," Lexa began softly, but the blonde cut her off.
"Let's go," she merely said, stepping forward and leaning over the nearest body, carefully taking its wrists in her grip. Lexa watched her, her eyes briefly unable to hide her sorrow for the blonde, but then she stepped forward too, carefully taking a hold of the body's ankles. Together they lifted it, and then they followed the line of warriors back out the door and up to the surface.
The two worked in silence, bringing first one body and then a second up to the surface, gently placing both of them in the pile that was building as her warriors worked on the pyre. The silence spread around them, none of her warriors having any words for the work they were doing. Their boots hit against the floor, they let out low grunts as they lifted heavy bodies, and the flies buzzed around their faces as the warriors disturbed the corpses they had chosen to settle on, but none of them spoke. No words were said again until Clarke and Lexa entered the room after delivering their second body to the surface and Clarke's gaze was drawn to two warriors lifting a body from the middle of the room. Her eyes widened before she exclaimed, "No!" She ran across the room and Lexa followed quickly, worry heavy on her shoulders at the blonde's sudden exclamation.
"Don't touch her!" Clarke yelled as she reached the two warriors, her eyes not leaving the body in their grasp, "Put her down!"
The two looked at the Commander and Lexa simply nodded to them and then they gently placed the body back on the ground and moved over to the next one, lifting that it instead.
Lexa watched as Clarke sank to her knees beside the corpse, the tremble of her chin all too evident to the watchful brunette. Her fingers shaking, Clarke reached out, gently running them through the corpse's mass of dark hair. In a glance Lexa took in the sight of the form, a girl close to their own age, her skin as burned as all the others, but the significance of this body was clear.
"Who was she?" she asked quietly, and for a moment it didn't seem like Clarke was going to answer.
"Maya," she finally murmured, the pain in her voice all too clear to the brunette. "She helped us. From the very beginning, she helped us. And I killed her."
"You did what you had to, Clarke," Lexa told her softly.
"Yeah," Clarke replied, the edge back in her voice, "Because of you."
The words were like a slap to the face, but it was a slap that Lexa knew she deserved, and so she took it. So rather than deny or try to give some sort of excuse, Lexa merely said, "We must take her out of here, Clarke."
"That's all they wanted," the blonde whispered, her fingers still running gently through Maya's hair. "To get out of here."
Lexa had nothing to say to that, so she simply stood there until Clarke stood back up, and together they carefully lifted her up, taking her to the surface she never got to see.
They worked for hours, bringing body after body to the ground. With each trip to the surface Lexa would check in with her warriors building the pyres, the pile of bodies ever-growing. Finally, on their fifth or sixth trip, one of the pyres was ready, and then Lexa pulled a number of her warriors over to help she and Clarke arrange the bodies along it. It took long minutes, and during that time those warriors who were still bringing bodies up from below ground stopped, gathering around and watching in silence. Only once they had fit all of the bodies they could on this first pyre did Lexa and Clarke step back, and suddenly Walsh was at Lexa's side, a burning torch in his hand. Without a word he handed the torch to Lexa who accepted it, the smooth wood cool beneath her palm. She could feel the heat from the fire burning at the end of it, but that heat did nothing to warm the cold within her. The bodies piled in front of her seemed to stare through her and the blame weighed heavy on her shoulders. Because Clarke was right: if she hadn't left, many of these people would still be alive. If she had stayed and fought, Clarke would not have had to kill these innocent people. Her gaze was pulled to a small body directly in front of her and the guilt pushed down on her even further. He had been just a child. Young; innocent. And now he laid before her, his skin as riddled with burns as the rest of his people.
She lifted her chin, refusing to let her feelings get the better of her. With a neutral expression, she stepped forward, carefully bringing the torch down on the pyre. The dry sticks caught quickly, and just moments later the bodies were engulfed in flames, wood and flesh burning together. Together they all stood there, watching as the bodies burned away before them. No one spoke as they watched, the crackle of the fire the only noise that broke through the silence. To Lexa, the crackle was deafening, and she wondered if it seemed the same to Clarke. Seeing the blonde lift her head just a bit higher out of the corner of her eye, Lexa guessed it did.
As the flames finally began to die down, the Commander looked up at the sky. The day was ending, and night was quickly approaching. She turned her eyes back to her people and noticed their weariness. Her warriors were tough, strong, able to work through anything, but while there were times she would push them, this was not one of them. She gestured once again for Indra and Walsh, and again they approached, both of their faces hard and drawn. This work was even getting to them, and to Lexa, that said something.
"Split our people into groups," she informed them. "Twenty people per group. Tell the first group to rest. They have three hours, and then the second group is to rest, and so on. Make sure to put yourselves into a group as well. I want none of my people pushing themselves too hard with this work. The dead will wait if they must."
"Sha, Heda," they both agreed and then turned around and began to bark orders to her people, splitting them up into groups as their Commander ordered. Lexa watched for a moment as a number of warriors pulled away from the rest, disappearing into the trees.
Clarke did not wait. Once the flames had died down, she turned to head back inside, just as Lexa was getting Indra and Walsh's attention. She couldn't wait: there were still too many bodies left, too many people still inside. It hurt, seeing them all, tore away at her, but she needed to keep working. She owed it to them. They were dead because of her, dead because she had needed to save her friends, her people: she owed it to them to truly put them to rest. She shouldn't have left their bodies lying on the cold concrete ground in the first place, should have taken care of them right away, but she'd had other things to worry about at the time. She'd been too busy checking on her friends, making sure they were okay, doing her best to comfort those who needed it, helping to make stretchers for those who couldn't walk: she simply hadn't been able to do anything else. And if she was being honest with herself, she hadn't been able to look at the bodies littered at her feet, hadn't been able to think about what she had just done.
Now she looked. Now she saw. Now she forced herself to think about it all, and what she thought crushed her. There had been nearly fifty bodies on that first pyre: she had counted as they had piled them on, and even with that fifty, there had still been a small pile of bodies already brought to the surface that couldn't fit on it. Stepping back into the Mess Hall, she clenched her jaw as she saw just how many more bodies were left. It seemed like they had barely made a dent, countless bodies still lying throughout the room. There hadn't been more than sixty of her own people here when she pulled that lever. She had saved maybe sixty lives, and in doing so, taken at least a couple hundred: what about that was right? What made her people worth it?
They were worth it, though. They were worth it, and she would do it again, and that's what scared her. She looked at the destruction, the death before her, and there was no doubt in her mind that she would pull that lever again if she had to. It was killing her, what she had done, slowly and absolutely killing her, but she would do it again.
She felt someone quietly move up behind her, and she didn't have to look to know it was Lexa.
"Come on," was all she said, stepping forward, and she heard the other girl follow her without a word.
They worked for hours, lifting one body after another. Clarke got used to the smell of dried blood, got used to the flies buzzing around her head, got used to the pull in her arms as she lifted the next body. She got used to the silence, neither of them saying a word as they worked. It became a rhythm, a terrible, horrible rhythm, each step the same as the one before, each body the same weight in her grip. The details were different: this one's hair was long, that one's was short. This one was young, this one was old. This one's mouth hung open, most likely having died screaming, this one's jaw was clenched shut. The details were different, but the work was the same, and the guilt was the same, only increasing with each trip.
Gently the two girls placed the body in their hands on the pile, smaller now that they had just recently burned the second pyre, and then Clarke turned, ready to go back again, when Lexa's arm shot out, gently grasping her arm. The blonde turned, her eyes first going to the hand on her arm, and then turning up to Lexa, a confused expression on her face.
"We must rest, Clarke," the brunette told her quietly, "Everyone else has: now we must also."
Clarke just shook her head, telling her, "No, I'm not stopping. There's too many still down there." She tried to pull out of Lexa's hold, but the grip just tightened.
"You must rest Clarke," Lexa insisted, and Clarke thought for a second she saw a flash of worry appear in the other girl's eyes, but it could have just been a trick of the shadows casted by the torches set up around them to see by. "Pushing yourself too hard will not help the dead. My people will keep working, but we must rest. Once we have done so, then we will continue."
Clarke opened her mouth to argue some more, but then closed it. She'd been ignoring it for hours, but now that they had stopped she could feel the exhaustion causing her muscles to nearly spasm. Her arms ached, her legs ached, and her heart ached, and while she doubted she would be able to get any sleep, she knew that Lexa was right. So she just sighed and nodded, and only then did the brunette release her grip, leading the way to the dark woods.
Lexa led the way to where they had left the horses, nodding to her warrior stationed with them when he nodded to her, and then she went to her own horse, pulling two blankets from her saddle bag. She handed one to Clarke, and then they moved away from the horses, finding a couple of trees to lean against. They were not right next to each other, but they were close enough that Lexa would know if any of her people tried to attack Clarke. She doubted it would happen, her people clearly having developed a kind of respect for the blonde and knowing that it would mean their death, but she felt better being close. Her mind still too focused on the work she had done all day and would have to get back to in just a few short hours, Clarke didn't say anything about the nearness of the trees, instead just taking her backpack from her shoulders and dropping it to the ground beside her. They settled down against the trees, the blankets covering them now, each lost in their own thoughts and too preoccupied to even try to talk to the other.
Clarke had been wrong: the moment she settled against the tree and closed her eyes, she fell asleep, her exhaustion not allowing her to remain awake, and this sleep remained blessedly undisturbed by images of any of the many things she had done to put her there against that tree.
Lexa listened, noticing the change of the blonde's breath as she fell asleep, and she smiled softly before closing her own eyes, allowing herself to drift off as well.
Hope you all enjoyed! Feel free to let me know your thoughts; I love reading them!
Translations:
"Chit ste em doing hir?" - "What is she doing here?"
"Shof op, Indra." - "Be quiet, Indra."
"Sha, Heda." - "Yes, Commander."