A/N: Trigger warning for more graphic violence/torture; again, nothing you wouldnt probably see on the show! Enjoy!
Hours later, the hot sun beat down on Clarke's golden hair. Sweat dripped from her scalp down the back of her neck, the sticky saltiness making her itchy. She still sat next to Lexa, the young commander unbent by the warm air. Clarke glanced at the sky, at the sun, wondering when it would be at it's farthest point.
"It's almost over Clarke," Lexa spoke quietly, reading her mind. And, very uncharacteristically, the brunette laid a gentle hand on Clarke's shoulder blade, her thumb rubbing the sharp edge. Green eyes bore into blue ones, and a strange sense of impending peace swept over the blonde.
"Heda," Indra called out, in front of them now. Her stone-like gaze analyzed Lexa's hand on Clarke's shoulder, but quickly returned to business. "Heda, the Far Sun is here, the prisoners are still alive... enough."
Lexa retracted her hand and straightened in her chair, she nodded, "Thank you, Indra." The warrior left and Lexa turned to Clarke, anger and excitement painted her face as boldly as her war paint. "It's time."
Clarke stood at the platform side as Lexa addressed the crowd before them, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her eyes intense. The crowd roared, grounders and Sky People alike. They chanted in the burning sun, "jus drein jus daun." Lexa strode on the platform, a faint smirk on her lips. In a quick and sudden motion, her hand shot to the sky and the crowd silenced. "Trigedakru, Skaikru," she announced, "the sun has reached the farthest point from the ground, and the filth prisoners will reach their end."
Clarke inhaled sharply. As barbaric as the ceremony had seemed, she felt it was appropriate. And that scared her. The more she involved herself in Grounder culture, the more it seemed necessary to life on Earth. Still there was plenty to grow accustomed to, but some strange voice in Clarke's head told her things would get easier. She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets as Lexa continued to speak.
"Many moons ago, our ancestors spilled their blood to give us life. They sacrificed for us, giving us land and law. Then, the monsters of the mountain came and took their sons and daughters. For several summers after, our people suffered at the hands of these savages. They took our people, our men, women, children, and elders for blood. But now, our ancestors smile upon us because we have avenged the dead and protected the living," the crowd cheered in their mother tongue, joined in by the Sky People. Lexa squared her shoulders as she paced the platform. "And because the battle could not have been won without the Skaikru and their leaders," Lexa turned to Clarke, "I continue to honor their aid by inviting Clarke of the Sky People to stand by my side during the last ritual." Lexa held out her hand, and despite the rigid look on her face, Clarke noticed the slight tremble in Lexa's fingers.
Clarke swallowed hard, and stepped onto the platform. Her fingers drifted from her pockets and into the brunette's, hesitant at first. But, Lexa was not. She was eager to link their hands together, tentative then firm. And after a second, Clarke returned the gesture. Lexa guided them to the front of the platform, and held their hands high. The crowd cheered. Lexa was proud of the alliance, and Clarke was, too. She sought her people in the masses and saw them. They were weary but encouraging. The Blake siblings pumped their fists into the air, their wide mouths shouting Clarke's name. Raven was silent, too drugged and delirious to participate but still she managed a smile for the Sky Leader as she hung on Wick's side. Monty waved wildly in the background, but Jasper was no where to be seen. Kane clapped roughly, nodding his head in approval. And her mother. Abby Griffin grinned at her daughter, the leader. She waved at Clarke, and mouthed the words "I love you". Clarke let herself smile at the family she had found on the ground.
"Do you wish to speak before we begin?" Lexa said quietly to Clarke's ear, the blonde nodding yes. Lexa brought their joined hands down and reluctantly tried to let go, but was glad when Clarke tightened her grip. Lexa hoped the warm sun would hide the blush that swept over her cheeks.
Clarke inhaled slowly, she had never been one for speeches (Bellamy was far better at it) and she kind of wished he was up here. She gazed at the various faces before her, faces filled with hope, grief, and excitement. She glanced at Lexa, her fellow leader giving an nod of encouragement.
"Trigedakru," she said, "I believe I can speak on behalf of my people when I say thank you. Our alliance was not forged easily, nor have we been able to fully understand each other's ways. But, we were able to find a bond in the mutual hatred of our enemy. With the Mountain Men gone, I have strong faith that we will be able to find solidarity in friendship." To her surprise, the Tree Clan cheered. They chanted her name in a rough tone as Lexa squeezed her hand. Clarke continued, "To everyone from the Ark, Skaikru," she added, "Earth was not the paradise we expected. We fell to the Mountain Men as many have for years. At times our mission for rescue seemed impossible, but with the determination and skill of all people here, we succeeded. My only hope for us now is to not just survive here on the ground, but actually live," she said, promise in her heart. Her people hollered and she couldn't help but smile at Bellamy's grin. She turned to Lexa, "Let's do this."
Lexa shouted to Indra, the warrior joining them on stage. They spoke in Trigedaslang, before Indra called Octavia, Bellamy, and Lincoln to the platform. The Blake siblings stood awkwardly, trying to ask Clarke what was going on but Clarke just shrugged. Indra yelled to the crowd, "Bellamy of the Sky People, you honor yours with your skill inside the mountain. The first kill shall be yours." Indra handed him a long dagger and his eyes grew wide with nervousness. He fell back into line, tightening and loosening his grip on the handle.
"It's okay, Bellamy. Just do it quick," Clarke advised. He nodded.
"Lincoln kom trigedakru, you honor yours with your acts of bravery in the reaper tunnels. You shall have the second kill."
Lincoln bowed to Indra, accepting another blade without the slightest show of fright. He whispered to Bellamy, "This is one of the highest honors a warrior can have, be proud."
"Octavia of Skaikru and Trigedakru," Indra addressed the girl. Octavia, tight lipped and eyes fierce, approached the older woman. "You honor us all, a woman of the sky and of the ground, first of her kind. You shall take the third kill," Indra then bowed to Octavia who returned the gesture and thanked her in Trigedasleng. "I will honor those who suffered at Tondc with the fourth kill," she clarified, then turning to Clarke and Lexa, who's hands were still joined. "Heda Lexa and Heda Clarke will honor both our tribes with the fifth and final kill. Then, our ancestors will rest easy and the dead be avenged!" The crowds shouted and cheered, chanting in both languages, the sounds echoing through the forest.
Clarke unintentionally squeezed Lexas hand, the Commander leaned to her and said, "we will do this together, Clarke."
All eyes turned to Bellamy as he faced one of the Mountain Men. Uncertain, he held the dagger in his hand low at his waist. With no direction, and the slow burn of anger for the man in front of him, he struck. A slash formed across the neck of the man, blood spurting from open arteries, the red mist splashing onto Bellamy's face and chest. He grit his teeth together and grunted, "For my people." The man died quickly, the sounds of life leaving his body as he slumped against the wooden pole. Lincoln approached his prisoner, and did the same. The knife sliced through skin and vessels effortlessly, blood pouring from the wounds to form a puddle beneath their feet. Lincoln spoke in Trigedaslang, probably something along the same lines as Bellamy.
Octavia was next, and she took her sword from its sheath on her back. She gripped the hilt hard, her eyes narrowed. The man in front of her breathed roughly, grunting out each breath. She rose her sword to his neck, and in return he spit weakly at her, the blood streaked saliva dropping to the ground. She shook her head, a wicked smile forming on her lips. "You shouldn't have done that, those two were much nicer than I am," she growled. In an instant, Octavia dug her sword at the base of the man's navel and tore upwards. He howled in pain as his guts spilled onto the platform, choking on his own blood.
Clarke's jaw dropped slightly. Grounder life really had changed Octavia. It turned her from the silly girl who chased butterflies into the strong warrior who disemboweled prisoners. Clarke, as well as every one there, was a mixture of impressed and intimidated, save for Indra.
"I have trained you well," Indra commented before performing the same maneuver on Emerson, the man seconds from death anyway. He died quicker but just as messy.
Clarke was nervous for what Lexa had in mind for Cage. The rumors of brutality amongst Hedas was unwavering, and she could barely stomach Bellamy slitting a throat much less Octavia tearing an abdomen. She swallowed hard, all eyes on her and Lexa. The Commander removed her sword and put it between them. Her eyes directed Clarke to grab the hilt with her. They approached Cage, the man heaving with each inhale and whimpering with every exhale. His head hung low, his eyes lolling back and forth.
Together, they lifted the sword, Lexa guiding and Clarke following. The tip of the sword dented his chest, off center to the right. "Your suffering is almost over here, but I could not imagine what kind of agony the Gods will bring you," Lexa spoke, loud enough for all to hear. Then, her voice lowered as she spoke only to Clarke. "He will drowned in the blood borrowed from our people," she whispered. Clarke nodded, understanding now. Their eyes met as the sword pressed harder. Clarke felt it break through skin and muscle, fighting it's way between bone before it hit its mark. Cage wailed the entire time, or as much as he could muster. He cursed them and their people, but they remained unfazed by his words. They pulled the sword from his chest, Clarke twisting it on the way out and Lexa smirking with pride. They copied their action on his left. Cage grunted as the air in his lungs turned to blood. He squirmed against the pole, his eyes bulging as he suffocated on the borrowed blood. His teeth grit hard as he struggled to inhale, his airway slowly being occupied by thick fluid. They removed the sword and watched, their hands still joined together by the sword. The crowd roared behind them. Cage spit blood, the gasps turning to gurgles as his lungs filled. Clarke watched, never daring to turn her gaze away from the man that murdered her people. A few moments later, Cage rasped out his last few breaths as blood dripped from his lips.
"It is done," Lexa sighed quietly.