The rain dripped and spattered against the tower in the way she loved. She loved few things, tiny things, but the first rains of spring were up there. The nourishment to her lands was a thankless blessing and she caught herself occupied with these things as the meeting droned on.
This time, it was a rogue thief caught by the village taking livestock in the dead of night. The village elder pounded his feet across the stone before her, and grew antsy with his hands, it diluted the sound of the frequent light thuds of raindrops and it was all he could do to keep his Heda's interest.
"Two boars you say." Lexa raised her brow at the chained up boy before her. What say you?" she folded her knee over the other knee and feigned interest.
"I am innocent, Heda." he offered forward with pleading eyes.
"Lies!" the elder struck his cheek with the back of his hand and Lexa didn't so much as flinch at the human display of anger. "You will not lie before your commander!" he seethed and the boy cowered.
Titus loomed beside her with a heavy glare, it was the universal signal that there were higher matters to attend.
"Enough," Lexa raised her hand. "We will conclude this later, leave us."
The room piled out and soon, the only person left pounding the stone against the rhythm of the rain was Titus. He took long strides, and Lexa could measure the depth of his fury based on the length of the steps he took. Today, they were just shy of a call for war, tomorrow, perhaps a genocide.
"Heda," he put the weight of his heavy glance on her. "King Roan of Azgeda returns to his lands, the legitimacy of Skaikru's claim as the thirteenth clan could not be on shakier ground. I advised you that Wanheda should be returned to her people before the twelve clans question your acquaintanceship."
She was assured in her pursuits. She would not be doubted or strong armed and it read in the staunch of her posture and the winding of her jaw. "Do the twelve clans answer before me or I before them?" she rose from her throne, powerful, becoming of her title. "Do I answer before you, or you before I?" she took a step towards him.
"Apologies, Heda." he threw his stare to the floor and abided his station. "You are so close to achieving what has been attempted since the dawn of time, the people are almost ready. It is our duty to keep them in line, for their own sakes."
"It is my duty, Titus. I will undertake it as I see fit." she warned him with a glare. He bowed his head once again and she saw the tick and pulse of conflict run through him. "Eternal salvation relies on the back of great leaders' sacrifice, there is much for us to learn from Clarke kom Skaikru."
"There is much for me to learn from you, Commander." Clarke watched the display from the door. Titus was hunched, leaning over Lexa with his words. His face soured and Clarke was suddenly aware of her own intrusion.
"You have no business wandering into the Heda's chamber unannounced!" he seethed and took fast strides towards her, the unilateral measure of his wrath.
"Leave us." Lexa raised her hand, and that was that.
"Heda," Titus bit and nodded his head. He glared at Clarke for one lasting moment, before closing the door behind himself.
"He's a real joy, why do you keep him around?" Clarke smirked and took steps towards Lexa. She was little lighter, a bit bouncier today. It felt obscene to be allowed to look upon her outside of the paradigms of her duties, but Lexa stared on, hungry and dying for more of these little encounters.
"You will do well to watch your tongue, Clarke. Titus is the second highest among my people for a reason."
"What do you need to keep the people in line for, Lexa?" Clarke shot her a look, and the pitter patter of the rain was no longer enough to occupy her against the tide of today. Lexa shifted uncomfortably in her seat and gestured for Clarke to sit beside her, it was accepted and Clarke pulled up a chair.
"Let us talk of other matters—"
"If you're preparing your people for something, I have a right to know, you said my people were your people too." Clarke reminded her.
"You are right," Lexa nodded and stumbled over herself. Clarke was beautiful, and she was drunk in the presence of her. "I'm sorry." she conceded and placed a gentle hand on her forearm. It felt foreign and intrusive, she kicked herself for the display and pulled her fingers back just as quickly as she had cast them out.
"Are you preparing for war?"
"No." Lexa chuckled and it seemed so abstract to her. "I'm preparing to raise my people higher, your people too if I have any leverage over Titus." she huffed with the stress of all of it.
"How so?"
"Must you worry about these things?" Clarke's brow furrowed, it knitted and melded and it was a symptom of her persistence. Lexa obliged her, she always did. "It's prophesied that there is a place beyond farce and false legend that remains untouched by the stains of human history. It's guarded by a single deity and passage is granted only to a chosen few who cross from this plain to the next. But, should the people march as one and achieve peace with one another, they too will be welcomed into the garden." she explained, her knees crossed over one another the same way they folded when she explained these things to the nightbloods. "And so it is the highest duty of the Heda to lead her flock towards the caliphate."
"The City of Light..." Clarke thought out loud.
"The City of Light." Lexa nodded.
"How do you know it's real?"
"How do we know anything is real?" Lexa quirked her brow and Clarke decided to leave the topic alone.
"Thank you, by the way."
"What for?"
"You know, for not killing Roan." Clarke said quietly, and she knew the deed was for her, a gesture of the strength of Lexa's word and oath.
"My quarrel was not with Roan, just with the Ice Queen. I see no reason to kill an innocent man." Lexa nodded and thought for a moment, "When they tell the stories of my legends, they'll say my strength was shown to the people in the lives I spared, not the ones I took."
"History will not be so forgiving when it remembers me." Clarke sighed and shuffled uncomfortably. She sees all of their faces, they haunt her, followed her from stars to mountains and wherever else she tread. History would remember that part.
"Perhaps history will leave a kinder footnote for you at the bottom of my chapter." Lexa tried and Clarke is beautiful, a wild thing in its prime racing against the wind, perhaps there would never be a time for these things. Perhaps there would be. She convinced herself it was of little importance so long as Clarke felt it too, and she decided long ago that the way Clarke's eyes shone just a bit brighter whenever they were near one another or the way her lips quirked into a funny little grin reserved just for her was more than enough.
"Come, Clarke." Lexa stepped on to the balcony, "I will have the best wines from here to the caliphate brought for us to drink in return for another of your stories."
"I don't know if I have many more, Heda." Clarke teased and followed eagerly to the damp balcony. "I never knew what rain felt like until I came to Earth, I think I prefer it to sunshine." she stuck her fingers out and watched the needle-like dribbles pound her palm.
Lexa looked at her and just smiled. "You know, I've never thought much about it myself." she lied.
The room is bland in the most mind numbing of ways and the sound of the door closing behind him made him jump. Kane sat himself at the table, tentatively, nervous. This meeting would be there last. He saw the handcuffs wrapped around her wrists, they're cumbersome and heavy and it shows in the way her arms hang between her knees as she takes a seat too. It embarrassed him.
"Marcus—" Abby tries and he sees the visceral fear of the consequences finally catching up to her.
"Chancellor Kane." he corrects her, and he's sorry, he feels the regret tick and nip at him and the knowledge wasn't overlooked that out of all of the things they did in the name of survival, this would be the one that would haunt him to his end. "The surgery failed, Thelonius is dead..." he looks down to his boots. "In the process, you wasted nine times the rationed medical supplies trying to save him, Abby."
"I see." she nods, reserved, knowing, dying. "Kane, you don't have to do this—"
"I do." he frowns.
"Well, then." Abby resigned herself to this fate and it's the last shred of dignity she can cling onto. "Let's talk like old friends and put politics aside for these last few moments."
"Whatever you want." he finally looks her in the eye and softly smiled, she's braver than Jake was. It surprised him, he gave her that much credit. "What was the name of that show Clarke liked to watch when she was young?" he says, curiously.
"Mr Roger's Neighbourhood." she wept and the memories choke her, throttle her even, but somehow she catches her breath and kept it together and it was admirable.
"You are my friend you are special, you are my friend, you're special to me…" he hummed and the memories came back thick and they were drunk on them.
"Gosh," Abby laughed. "She sung that all the time, matter of fact she used to sing herself asleep to that song."
"Believe me, I know. I used to have the cabin next to yours before we were elected to the council."
They both chuckle and for a moment the chains aren't heavy and Clarke is still a dot, a baby born to an in-between generation that would hand the torch to the next, but she was alive on the ground and defiant to her birthright, all one-hundred of them were.
"Do you remember when we were teenagers and Thelonius made that homemade hooch?"
"Oh yes." he chuckled, "He hid that thing in the floorboards until the whole deck smelled like a brewery."
"I could really do with a drink right now." Abby scratched her neck and thought back to those days and how much simpler things were.
"Maybe we all could." There's a knock to the door and it's time. "Abby…" his face twists with the shame, and there's nothing he can do to fix these things now. There's no words or speeches, she hauls herself up and walks to the door and she will take the little honour she can get of not being dragged to the airlock Their boots hit the metal hull and with each corner they turn and corridor they walk down he wants to call this whole thing off.
They turned a last corner and the airlock came into sight. The council, her few last friends, stood solemnly waiting but it was Kane who couldn't look ahead, who couldn't rise to the task at hand.
"Ask me for a pardon." he pleads with her and he remembers a time before Jake when they were sweethearts, when they were best friends, and he has no idea how it came to this.
"I won't beg for my life, Marcus." she shakes and Kane wishes she would.
"What about Clarke?" he whispers.
"She is down there," tears stream down her cheeks and the guards remove her handcuffs. "I did my job, we did our job, we sent our children home."
"May we meet again." he whispers and they lead her to the airlock.
The door closes between them and all he can do is press his hand to the glass. "May we meet again." she whispers back, her hand a perfect mirror of Kane's own. He calls it off, he goes to, his legs move and his lips open and the intention is there but the guard hits the lever and she is gone and it's too late for goodbyes.
Kane awoke with a sweat, it was a thick hot sweat that soaked his forehead and wrangled with his shirt. "Jesus christ!" he clutched his brow, grabbing at the bottle of water on his desk.
"Sorry…" John Murphy checked the corridor and closed the door behind him. He took a seat in front of his desk. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"No, no, it's fine." he put the water bottle down, "Just a nightmare."
"I know the feeling, you ever feel like your life is one big nightmare?" Murphy eyed him, lifted his boots on to the table and leaned back in his chair.
"Quit with the dramatics." Kane rolled his eyes and sighed, pushing his feet back down. "Can I help you, Mr Murphy?"
"That depends, can you?" Murphy chuckled with the irony. "Pike knows about our meeting with the grounders, he knows Octavia, Jasper and Clarke are missing. he's put the camp under lockdown. If you want me in Polis, I need you to get me out now."
Kane swallowed, this wouldn't bode well and Pike would know his connection in all of this. As assured as these things were, it was a problem for later.
"Well then, Mr Murphy." he rose from the desk, pulling a gun from his draw. "You better follow me."