Trigedasleng


The leader of the Floudonkru was unlike any other member of the Trigedakru Clarke had encountered.

Luna was a white haired female with pale blue grey eyes and a shrewd but somewhat vacant stare. Her demeanor was almost eccentric, yet she was warm and more than welcoming. Upon arriving with their guarded escort, Luna smiled pleasantly; an act Clarke saw few of the Trigedakru implement when meeting an outsider, as they were a cautious people by nature.

"Welcome Klark kom Skaikru. We have been expecting you. The Floudonkru will celebrate the arrival of the legendary Skai Prisa."

What did that even mean? We have been expecting you? Clarke was befuddled from the moment she met Luna, from the first introduction insisting Clarke call her by her given name.

Clarke was given attendants, lodging, food and clothing more luxurious than she felt comfortable accepting. She was spoken to as she imagined a respected visiting delegate might have in the old world. She sat in on political affairs and was given the opportunity to voice thoughts and opinions on everyday occurrences and legal proceedings. It felt oddly as if she was being educated, tested and trained at the same instance.

The city of Leston was just as…unique…as it's chief.

Clarke had seen very few older Trigedakru. Elders were respected on the Ark, as life expectancy was typically sixty-five years due to limited available resources and medical supplies. If your grandfather was ill, it was simply his time to pass on. The younger generation was considered priority to ensure the lineage of the human race. Clarke's own grandparents had passed from sepsis, and heart failure. It made sense that such an ascetic lifestyle on the ground would also lead to shorter lifespans. At least she assumed so until she found herself among the Floudonkru in the city of Leston, or rather dotingly referred to as The Holy City.

The longer she walked along the broken cobblestone pathways, the more she agreed with the city's nickname. There was something magical about the modest buildings that were renovated from the original design nearly a century ago. The capital halls were located in an old church, one of the few pristine buildings remaining in the entire city. Many of the structures surrounding the city were rebuilt, or renovated in some fashion. The spire was tall and glinted in the sun, and Clarke imagined the many forms of architecture from before the nuclear bombs. Inside, the church was modest, clean, and clearly well taken care of by the people. However, she noted a few nearby buildings that she would rather not test the structural integrity of.

The Floudonkru, like their leader, were varied and eccentric. Clarke was all at once ignored, revered, and feared. There were those that paid her no mind and bumped into her casually with a grunt without apology, just as there were those that would never meet her eyes. When she saw fear and apprehension, a cold numb feeling settled within her breast and she was once again reminded of who and what she was.

Clarke felt the freest when she was ignored and seen as just another body within the crowd. She could have been a wife, a mother, or an aspiring apprentice. In those instances, she imagined she was someone, anyone else.

Perhaps, the most confounding occurrences were the times in which she was greeted with such warmth and love that it left her aimless. One moment, Clarke was walking the streets with Luna listening to her explain a significant landmark or function of the city, and the next a child would bring her a wreath made of flowers and shyly crown her while the mother stood by bowing her head. In extreme cases, she was given gifts and pledges of fealty and thanks for slaying the much-hated enemy of their people.

It was…a constant whirlwind of emotional turmoil. Yet, all of these eyes were not those of her friends, or the ones that she had killed or abandoned her. This place and its people were new and she immersed herself within the days pleasantly learning and exploring customs foreign to her with a heartfelt embrace.

Most of all, Clarke enjoyed the humid air, the smell of the sea, and the abundant thundershowers. She was sure Coltrane was beyond exhausted with her change in attitude and joyful exuberance to bask in the rain at every instance. Eventually, he ceased following her into the small storms and left her to stand stupidly amongst the pouring rain while he observed from a much drier location.

Coltrane, or Colt as she affectionately called him, was her constant shadow. He quickly became one of her most trusted friends. He spoke more as they spent time together, but with each shared experience Clarke felt his devotion and reciprocated in turn. It was odd, once she realized how she felt for him. He was like family to her, almost as a beloved uncle or brother, or she assumed if the Ark had permitted such things.

She learned more about his past as they spent time with other members of the Floudonkru weaving nets for capturing fish or as she asked questions about customs and required insight into something Luna had said. He had a wife once, as beautiful as the stars and full of spirit that could only be tamed by one man. Clarke knew of the way she loved to run, of how melodious her voice was. His descriptions were so vivid that Clarke almost felt that she could see her running amongst the trees with teasing bright eyes and raven hair.

At first, she assumed his respect for her was born of relief and self-hatred. Clarke had indirectly freed him of his personal hell and single handedly killed those that had turned him into a monster that feasted on the flesh of his kin. She soon realized his sorrow ran deeper.

In the back of her mind, Clarke knew Coltrane's wife was dead. The reason he stayed with her was out of duty and debt. One that Clarke felt she did not deserve after she learned from Luna that Coltrane's wife was one of the many Trikru captured and sacrificed to treat the radiation poisoning the Mountain Men suffered. Coltrane and his wife were captured together, whereas she was drained of her life force, Coltrane was transformed into a Reaper. Coltrane's wife was a prime specimen. She was young, healthy, female, and above all in the early stages of pregnancy.

In a moment of fury, Clarke immersed herself further amongst the Floudonkru wanting to distance herself as much from the monsters under the mountain. Her guilt at killing innocents was always present, but there were days where she was almost glad her and Bellamy had pulled that lever and cleansed the mountain of sin.

Amongst the Floudonkru, the Skaikru were known and feared because of their similarities to the technologically savvy Mountain Men. Yes, Clarke was Skai Prisa, but her people were not limited to those born of the Ark. Pulling that lever on Mount Weather had cemented a bond with the same people that demanded retribution for Finn's massacre of eighteen villagers. Life had an interesting way of weaving the thread of lives together irrevocably. She wondered once again how every encounter and relationship was meant to bring each person closer to the person they were destined to be.

Leston was a large city, grand to Clarke's eyes, but also humble in appearance. It boasted nearly 20,000 lives dispersed along the coast and farther inland and after a week, she had yet to see every inch.

Clarke cut her hair. Or rather she had a very pretty mother of five run her hands through her hair clucking one day her tongue in distaste in passing. Clarke found herself ushered inside the woman's home with her sons and daughters of various ages excited and momentarily struck by the presence of the legendary Skai Prisa in their humble home.

Clarke was given a fruity drink and sat pleasantly with a small boy of three years in her lap as the matron took a knife, and a pair of scissors and butchered her hair. She was initially alarmed at the amount of hair sheared and eventually pooled around her in a halo of golden strands. As much as she was startled during the process, Coltrane was stiff watching with rapt attention as the sharp objects neared her face. The only thing that stilled him was a small girl braiding his beard. Clarke's eyes shined with glee at the sight and also sobered with the realization that he would make a very good father and husband and would have been if men like Cage and Dante had not existed.

In the end, Clarke was very pleased with the style of her new appearance. One side of he hair was shorn to the middle of her neck in waves with a few longer strands of tangled braids while the other side matured in length just past her shoulder towards the front. Clarke felt beautiful, wild and fierce. The few braids in her hair were placed well and significantly. Her hair had never been styled in so many varied asymmetrical lengths, but the ends were healthy and fell in soft waves that she could not resist running her hands through. And as she left, bestowing a warm hug to the very surprised Floudonkru female and accepting a crown of flowers to her hair from the children with promises to return for a visit, Clarke felt every inch of the Skai Prisa, radiant and strong with sandal covered feet, wild hair, layered shorts that hugged her thighs but waves around them reminiscent of a dress, and a cropped halter top. Her attire was simple. She felt simple.

At sunset, Clarke sat on the beaches with Coltrane, Rebekah, and at times members of her grateful family and watched the sun disappear behind the glittering ocean. She told them in Trigedasleng (that was becoming easier for her to speak each day) how the sun looked from space and how the planets rotated around one another.

Her knees were covered in coarse sand as she knelt behind a startled Coltrane as she began to thread her fingers through his hair. Rebekah had long since returned to her family. She was one of three siblings, consisting of two brothers, one older and younger, and her parents were prone to worry since her recent assault outside of the village.

The Trigedasleng did nothing without meaning, including the intricacies of braiding ones hair. The way a person styled their braids signified status, personality, and position within the clan. It was also a very intimate act to braid another's hair and thus only performed by family members, bonded pairs, and by means to show fidelity or respect as Clarke assumed was the reason behind the woman's care with her hair earlier that very same day. It also conveyed trust and love.

While their relationship was not romantic it was familial and lacked no form of trust. She combed his thick hair through her fingers untangling the strands in slow even strokes and began a style suitable for a man who had suffered, endured and was still able to love.

"Lena, smiles down at you with great pride." His former wife's name flowed from her lips. "You have honored me in many ways, and I would be pleased to name you friend and family." She stated evenly soothing his tense shoulders with her words and touch. "I trust you, brother."

Trust was difficult and all too easy for Clarke. She was careful to trust too deeply, it was something that had to be earned, and Coltrane had earned it, just as Bellamy had. He was alone in the world, and she desperately wanted to be his pillar of strength. She wanted to be more than Clarke, she wanted to be Skai Prisa if only to uphold the way his eyes shone brilliantly when he looked at her.

Coltrane protected her and had since shielded her from harm and lifted her at her worst. He deserved more from her than she was able to give, but her love and trust was one of the few things of value she had.

"Ai badan yu op en nou moun, Skai Prisa…Klark." Her hands stilled momentarily at words spoken to her weeks ago under different circumstances. She had never once heard him speak her name.

Clarke took a deep breath and completed his braids with a playful tug. Rather than admire her handy work, she sat next to him in the cooling sand. In a moment of childishness, she tucked herself under his arm and rested her head against his chest. He stiffened momentarily, but she felt him sigh further into the embrace.

"I think I'm beginning to understand what that means."


"Good morning Skai Prisa." India smiled cleaning her hands. Clarke smiled in return and picked up the woman's toddler from hugging her legs.

"Is Rebekah ready?" The young Floudonkru was apprenticing under Clarke for healing.

There were three healers in the city of Leston, one of which was fairly skilled. Clarke worked with him a few days a week learning his trade and imparting her own knowledge. Rebekah was one of the apprentices under him and had been out in the woods alone searching for a plant to make a poultice against direct orders when she was attacked. Initially, Clarke was worried that the young Trigedakru was going to be punished. The head healer, Luka, was irate, and so were Rebekah's family. Clarke saw the anger for what it was, worry; however, she also knew that punishment for obeying direct orders and going against the law was very similar to the Ark. To her surprise, Luna devised a punishment that fitted the rebellious teenager of 13 years; a punishment that had her following Clarke around like a shadow assisting and catering to her every need. Basically, Rebekah became Clarke's personal assistant and guide.

This revelation opened Clarke's eyes to the Trigedakru in a new way. What she thought was a strict society with harsh punishments, was very different.

"There are twelve clans within the Coalition," Luna explained one day to which Clarke nodded in understanding. "Each clan governs independently with its own leader and laws."

"So then, how does Lexa fit into it?" Luna ignored Clarke's informal reference to the Heda.

"She is the one who formed the Coalition. It is why so many respect and fear her wrath. Most of the clans were at war and many considered her ambition to align them foolish. All clan members are susceptible to punishment under the one they hale from. If there is a between clan dispute, Heda passes the final judgment."

"But what about the Ice Nation? They attacked one of your own." Clarke disputed referring to the attack on Rebekah.

Luna shook her head. "It cannot be confirmed whether or not they were members of the clan."

"But they had the emblem," Clarke refuted. "Coltrane said that-"

"We must pick our battles Klark, especially as leaders. You know this. To bring this accusation against the Ice Nation would be foolish. Have you seen our people Klark?" Luna asked referring to the Floudonkru. Clarke furrowed her brow. "They are bred warriors, except in here." Luna rested her hand against her own heart. "They do not wish to fight, anymore than I do. We are weaker than the Woods People."

Clarke linked her hand with the older woman's. "I will take your word for it, but I've seen the strength of spirit in your people. The Boat People are very strong."

Rebekah clambered through the door announcing her presence and shaking Clarke from her musings. India retrieved her son from Clarke's arms and greeted her husband as he entered behind Rebekah. Clarke respected the head of the Rebekah's family. He was tall and muscular, with deep brown hair holding a glint of red, tan skin and hazel eyes. He was one of the few male Trigedakru Clarke had actually heard laugh, even if it was still more of a grin with a puff of air at her expense.

"Good morning, Liam." She smiled and clasped his forearm. He was significantly less formal than the other Floudonkru, especially when it was only her and his family. It surprised her initially because he was a bred warrior of the Trikru and had married India who was born as a member of the Floudonkru.

"I want my kin to thrive. To die in battle is glorious, but you are still dead." He revealed to her once when she had asked why he decided to cross the clan barrier.

"Ready?" Clarke asked Rebekah once the girl gathered her things. The girl nodded and walked with her outside leaving her family for the day to spend under Clarke's tutelage.

"Where are we going?" Clarke smiled at her improved English and responded in Trigedasleng. It was a game for them, allowing them both to improve their language skills.

"Some of the younger children are ill, so we are going to help Luka today." Clarke watched with mild amusement as Rebekah's excitement dwindled.

"It will not be that bad." Clarke promised her.

"You're lucky to not have siblings," the redhead grumbled under her breath.

Clarke laughed and nudged her shoulder. "You forget my Mother was the chief healer on the Ark. I helped her with many babes, and even births."


"Greetings Skai Prisa," Luka bowed formally and ushered the two of them inside the doors.

Clarke and Rebekah were taken to one of the larger rooms that occupied the humble building that consisted of two women, one around her age and another much older one that Clarke was impressed with just for walking.

They were presented and briefly given explanation on the few smaller babes that were taken care of in this part of the city when family was preoccupied or they were ill. Clarke smiled thinking it was similar to day care on the Ark. There were sixteen children, seven girls and nine boys, all roaming on the padded floor in various temperaments and ranged from barely a few months old to five years.

Clarke began to change nappies, feed, and entertain along with provide the ones who were ill medicine that she ground to form powders and concoctions to treat small fevers. Rebekah took orders well, and was very skilled with handling the children; it came with ease from experience with her own siblings. In accordance to the many things she was learning as a healer, this was one of the most rewarding and less taxing. None of the children were gravely ill nor were they burdened by the horrors that existed beyond their peaceful city.

Clarke felt her heart lighten with every smile she was given, every eager pull at her hand that wished to have the Skai Prisa's attention. Her arms and newly styled hair were pulled until her joints and scalp ached and her legs fell asleep from the tiny mass of body's taking turn in her lap. Clarke endured each tug and the tingling in her toes from too many tiny bodies on her lap with pleasure. This was what she wanted to preserve, what Lexa was trying to preserve.

It was nearing the end of the day and parents came to collect their children and bring them home except for a rare few who still required looking after due to their fever.

The family members took their children with wonder learning that the Skai Prisa herself had honored their family by personally looking after them. Clarke made note to say something polite about each child she entertained in clear Trigedasleng as families left for the day.

"Ready to leave?" Clarke asked putting a hand on Rebekah's hunched shoulders and subtly whipping her hand along her pant leg after discovering there was unknown moisture on the girls shoulder.

"Yes," she sighed too exhausted to notice Clarke's movement.

As they said their farewells for the evening, Clarke noticed the younger female assistant cover a babe in a basinet off to the side and leave shortly to continue cleaning. Clarke did not recall seeing this child throughout the day, but was not surprised as she had sixteen children vying for her attention all day.

Clarke approached the basinet curiously, unaware of Rebekah's call or Luka's watchful eyes.

She folded the frayed blanket to see two very astute eyes looking back at her. The eyes were blue like her own and there was a dark patch of brown hair waving around his head that was titled awkwardly to the left and rotated towards her. The babe made a small sound and she smiled, which turned into a frown noting the dampened blanket and wondered why he had not cried out from his wet state.

She unwrapped the blanket carefully under the child's stare and faltered when the right fist uncurled revealing three slightly clawed fingers. She continued after tracing the appendages curiously and discovered another abnormality with his right leg that was underdeveloped considerably compared to the left.

Clarke gently picked the child up and began changing him. He was quiet though the entire process and Clarke felt entirely pleased with her self when she received a small happy gurgle after blowing on his stomach.

Rebekah deposited the dirty nap and gave her a clean blanket, which Clarke wrapped around the small boy.

"He didn't cry at all. What is his name?"

"He rarely does," Luka responded as Clarke turned to him. "I expect self preservation." At her questioning look he continued. "He was abandoned on the edge of our city nearly eight months ago and has not been named." Clarke clutched the babe tighter to her chest at his words. "We were unsure if he would survive."

Clarke wanted to ask him why anyone would just abandon a defenseless baby, but she already knew what his answer would be. She stared at the blue eyes falling closed and the head resting contently on her breast with his deformed fingers curling her top. Dirty blood. The child was abandoned for his deformity and thus considered tainted and impure. The initial nuclear bombs had devastated the world, killed many lives directly and indirectly via radiation that continued to affect the following generations. To eradicate the impurity, the malformed children were abandoned, and typically given to the Nomads wandering the desert.

It made little sense why this boy was here instead of amongst the Nomads resigning in the desert. "You took him in?"

"The Floudonkru is an accepting clan compared to most." Luka explained calmly and with care. "He will be raised by the Floudonkru as any other parentless child until he comes of age, but will most likely take his place amongst the Nomads."

"Why?" She already knew the answer and despite the warm hearts of the Floudonkru, Clarke knew the child would be without many things growing up because of his circumstance. Her eyes burned with compassion at the suffering to come for the babe. It was not fair, the world was harsh, but the child did not deserve to suffer for being born.

"I am not saying it is right, but it simply is, Skai Prisa." His apologetic and deferent tone did little to soothe her righteous ire.

"Torticollis," Clarke whispered absently tracing the curves of his neck.

"Skai Prisa?" Luka questioned.

"It's called torticollis." She turned holding the now changed boy in her arms. "It's congenital, or it can be. Sometimes it occurs because of alignment in the womb." She turned towards him. "I can help him." Her eyes were resolute and dared him to question her.

"As you will, Skai Prisa." Luka submitted with Rebekah looking on in curiosity but dared not say anything to dispute her on the child's condition.

Clarke turned around and sat in one of the nursing chairs. "I'm going to stay the evening," she stated with quiet authority.

"I'll get some food from home. I'll be back soon." Rebekah piped in eager to please and dispel the odd atmosphere.

"Please tell Coltrane," she said calmly rocking the babe in her arms. Rebekah nodded and left to complete her tasks.

All the while, Luka observed the mysterious leader from the sky as she cradled a child forsaken by his people. He wondered at her empathetic nature and compassion trying to align the same legendary woman who decimated hundreds of warriors with the one reverently holding a disfigured babe. The moment her eyes shone with incredulity at the lot afforded to the babe he saw the ferocity and characteristics that made her a leader worth dying for. She had the ability to see the value in another life, a trait few had in this life. This blazing fair-haired female was a leader who took care of those she considered her own; no matter their faults, physical or otherwise.

Klark kom Skaikru was nothing less than worthy of her title.

"It's okay, I've got you." She whispered rocking the child back and forth and kissed each hand and foot with gentle lips.


Polis was a grand city filled with an abundance of life and energy as was expected of the capitol of the twelve clans. It was home to decorated warriors and their families alike, and the official home of the Heda.

Lexa, Heda and initiate of the Coalition sat upon a throne of iron twirling a blood stained knife as she listened to a delegate of her birth tribe. Such proceedings were expected as the leader of the twelve clans. The current claim came from one of the more celebrated families from the Trikru. The male addressing her was one she knew from her childhood and had shouted at her and her siblings growing up, as they were prone to play pranks on the man and his wife.

She turned her bored and stoic gaze to her knife. It was finely crafted, but also one from her earlier days as Heda. Her most prized knife, gifted to her by her father as she came into her role as Heda, was with a beautiful blonde female that fell from the sky and was known to burn her enemies alive. Dissonance arrived the moment Clarke landed in a metal cage of fire amongst her people.

She was interrupted by her musings by one of her warriors leading a delicately dressed female with sandals. Interested, she straightened her spine and ordered the Trikru subject away from her with a dismal wave and internally noting to grant part of his request at a later date.

Lexa lifted her chin and gestured the messenger forward. No words were exchanged as the female presented the letter to her with Luna's seal. She opened the coarse material and breezed through its contents, her heart beginning a staccato. The letter was brief and cryptic, but she understood Luna's message as clearly as if she had seen the very individual the letter was written about. She re-folded the letter gently with slightly trembling fingers that betrayed her reticent expression.

Lexa dismissed the messenger calmly without a response, but divulged the female with a small nod of recognition acceptable for the Heda to bestow on a subject in her service.

She sheathed her knife and put her hand upon the hilt as she left the formal gathering room. One of her male guards and attendants followed her with a questioning glance. She looked to the man who was one of the trusted few under her employ in Polis and gifted him an order as much as a response to the question in his gaze.

"We leave for Leston."


AN: I apologize profusely for not uploading this faster. I am in Wisconsin at the moment and it was very busy trying to get everything done (or done enough) for work before I left. The next chapter is finished (I think?). Honestly, not sure because it isn't left on a good spot so I may keep going until I have a bit more of a better finish. I will update before or on the 7th of July because IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! So...please send my birthday presents in the form of reviews! I hope you enjoyed this. Please review and give me your comments and suggestions. Thank you to everyone who has favorited, reviewed etc.


Translations

Chon ste der- who is there

Mochof- thank you

Ai laik Klark kom Skaikru – I am Clarke of the Sky People

Skai prisa – sky princess

Ai badan yu op en nou moun – I serve you and no other

Yu laik yuj- You are strong

Hod op- wait

Shop of – quiet

Jus drein jus daun- blood must have blood

Floudonkru – Boat people

Your fight is not over - Yu gonplei ste nou odon