The next morning, the space beside her was empty and her clothes had been carefully folded and laid out for her to dress. Clarke sat up and immediately vomited in a bucket that was conveniently near the cot. It looked as though someone had anticipated her needing it. She groaned. Her stomach was churning and her head felt like someone was doing a drum solo on the inside of her skull. She rinsed her mouth out with water from the nearby basin and then drank a little, despite her stomach's protestations. She splashed her face with the fresh, cold water and felt a little relief at that.

After dressing, she slowly made her way out of the tent and winced at the harsh sunlight that invaded her senses. Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked around the rocky riverbank and found it empty. No Lexa. She checked the hill line in front of her and behind her. No sign of Lexa's bodyguard either.

Though the sun was up, the air was still chilled from the night before. The only sign of life that gave Clarke an indication that she had not been abandoned again was that there was a well tended fire still burning in the pit from last night. Someone would have had to stoke it and add more wood to start it again after it died out during the night. Normally that meant a person planned to return.

Clarke wasn't sure though.

She wasn't sure of anything.

She thought of the nomads she had left and wondered if maybe she could escape back to them. Forget she'd ever done this. Forget she'd ever seen Lexa. Forget everything they said last night. That group definitely had enough alcohol for it to be a possibility.

She heard a noise and turned around to see Lexa, still in the same simple black dress she wore last night except there was a worn, animal-skin jacket covering it now instead of a blanket. She carried a string of trout, presumably their breakfast, and smiled when she saw Clarke. It was small and it barely lasted a moment, but it was a smile nonetheless.

She wasn't going back to the nomads.

"Hungry?"

One look at the fish and Clarke was sick again. She ran for the nearest bush for privacy. After waiting a while to be convinced that it was under control, she stumbled back onto her feet, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and took a deep breath before going to join Lexa who was sitting in front of the fire again. Clarke sat across from her, the same as they had last night, only there was no darkness to shroud them now. Lexa looked so different in the daylight. Clarke could only stare at her. She'd seen Lexa without her war paint before, but there had still been a thin layer of dirt and grime then. Now Lexa was clean, barefaced, beautiful, and unbearably young.

This was the monster she hated? The black painted face stained with fresh human blood of slaughtered soldiers that seized away her last bit of hope, her lifeline, her chance to save her friends? Yes, she'd found a way in the end. But the moment Lexa turned her back on her was a moment where Clarke felt a tear in her soul. Lexa had ripped her apart and left her to die. But here she sat. Here they sat together.

This beautiful young woman with braided hair tumbling freely over her shoulders, she didn't look any older than seventeen. How old was she anyway? Clarke had never thought to ask. Lexa had always seemed older than her before, but not now. Not like this. This wasn't the monster she hated. But that monster was just hiding for now. Clarke forced herself to remember that. Somewhere, lurking close beneath the surface, was the person who had betrayed her. The one who had left her to die.

Clarke made sure she didn't watch as Lexa expertly gutted the fish and put them on the spit to roast over the low flames. But once they started to cook, she felt a little more confident about the strength of her stomach.

Lexa never said a word during all of it, but there was something about her, the slight uptick at the corner of her mouth, the sly glances she sent Clarke's way, that showed her utter amusement at Clarke's current struggles.

Clarke hated that Lexa was able to find anything about this funny, but there was a small part of her that was just simply pleased. Pleased that she was able to make Lexa smile.

This was so wrong.

"What are you doing here, Lexa?" she asked harshly. "Why aren't you in Polis? Where are your warriors? Your people? There was only that one guy and I haven't seen him since last night..."

For a long moment, Lexa didn't answer. She kept her eyes on the roasting fish. It was such a long empty silence that Clarke actually wondered if she was going to try and pretend she didn't hear the question.

"You are not the only one angry with me for my choices," she said softly.

This surprised Clarke.

"Your people? But...you saved them. You got them all out and avoided a war, saved hundreds, just by leaving. How could they-?"

"The leaders of the clans have used this opportunity to claim I am too weak to hold command. They tell my people the same as you said to me last night: I am a coward. I ran from battle. I did not uphold my sworn oath of vengeance. Jus drein jus daun."

She tilted her head as she inspected the roasting fish, turning them so they cooked evenly.

"My people – not all, of course, but far too many – have been convinced to feel the same. To them, I allowed the Sky-People to fight our battle and allowed the Sky-People to have our vengeance. That is...unacceptable."

Clarke looked around them, realizing for the first time how alone they truly were. In all the time she had spent with Lexa, they had never been alone like this. There were always warriors or her people or danger surrounding them. The river babbled quietly beside them. The fire crackled and popped. The trees rustled with the wind. Birds called, echoing through the forest.

Lexa was alone.

"They kicked you out?" Clarke said aloud, not meaning to gawp the way she did, but it was just the absolute last thing in the world she had expected when she imagined meeting her again.

Lexa stiffened, but her face remained expressionless.

"Banished," she said in a clipped tone, "pending preparations for my trial."

"And then what?"

Lexa pulled the well cooked fish off the fire and set them down carefully to cool.

"Either I will win and prove myself worthy or I will die."

"They'll execute you?" Clarke said in barely a whisper. "But...you're the Commander. You told me that it was your calling to lead...that it's your soul..."

That stopped her.

If Lexa was found unfit to lead, they couldn't let her live. They needed her to die so that her soul would be reborn in another body. Temporarily they would find another to lead until another Heda, young and strong, made themselves known again.

Lexa had to prove herself worthy in the eyes of her people, her clansmen, her warriors, and the clan leaders. If not...there was no other option.

"Can you win?"

"I do not know."

She handed Clarke a piece of the fish that had cooled enough for eating.

"Go on," she said, "it will feel worse if you don't eat."

Clarke numbly did as instructed and they ate in silence.