"Trigedasleng"
Clarke swiped a hand across her sweaty brow and nearly collapsed from exhaustion onto the cooling sand. She hardly felt the chill despite the setting sun and the crispness of the air. Summer had passed, and she traded in cropped tops, shorts and sandals, for closed toed shoes and warmer clothes. The sea was cold and as much as she loved the summer, the fall season was refreshing. The sun no longer burned her skin if she stayed out too long and she itched to bring more color to her recent painting from the vast color schemes she was discovering each day as the leaves turned various shades of oranges, reds, pinks, and yellows.
Liam, Rebekah's father, dug his sword into the sand and sat besides her. As Clarke's body cooled, she shivered and accepted the jug of water and jacket from him after slipping her arms free of the woven basket at her back. She sighed and rubbed her stiff shoulders. When Liam had noticed her spending time with Jacob, he had tossed her a sword and all but marched her outside insisting she defend herself. To say she was startled was putting it lightly.
After noting how poorly Clarke defended herself, he asked her how she could afford to protect an innocent babe if she was unable to protect herself? Shocked, she looked at him as he continued to explain that a dead parent was just as bad, if not worse, than never having one to begin with. Why would she be so cruel as to give a child hope only to take it away when she got herself or the boy killed? Clarke had been angry, furious even, until she grasped the wisdom. Clarke detested being a novice at anything, especially if it meant life or death. At one point, he hinted at carrying Jacob in her carryall during training as she frequently carried Jacob in her carryall during the day. Clarke adamantly put her foot down and refused to practice weaponry and put her adopted son at risk. Lest she be the worst mother in all of history if after a month her child was accidently skewered. They used heavy stones and a crudely made doll instead to account for his weight.
Clarke believed the pack was actually heavier than Jacob, but it was hard to tell with how fast he was growing. Whether it was the frequent nurturing, her attempts at physiotherapy or other factors, he flourished under her care. She wanted to feel anger at many of the people in the city who now paid him notice because she deemed him worthy. Instead, she practiced patience on a daily basis.
"You did well."
Clarke laughed and wiped her mouth passing the flask back to him. He took a swig and inspected the doll she produced from her carryall. At first inspection it seemed intact, until Clarke knocked over the severed head.
"That is…not good."
Clarke laughed despite another loss. Her track record consisted of more losses rather than victories against Coltrane and Liam, and even India, Liam's wife. India was an easier opponent, while still formidable, simply because she was raised amongst the Floudonkru and battle skills were not heavily implemented as other trades.
"I guess I won't be taking Jacob outside of the city anytime soon."
Liam eyed her and she raised an eyebrow in question. "You still have family?"
"My mother," she nodded in confirmation.
"You will not tell her she has been blessed with a grandson?"
Rather than tense and avoid the topic, as she was prone to when she first arrived, she leaned back in the sand and looked at the horizon. Recently, Clarke had been thinking more about her family and those she had left behind in Camp Jaha.
"My mother and I…have a complicated history. We have a lot that was left unsaid."
"You speak of many of the Skaikru with great regard."
She bit her bottom lip and tucked a strand of sweaty hair behind her ear. "We left on somewhat bad terms. I…made a lot of decisions in order to free my people from the Mountain Men. I tried…" she licked her lips. "I tried to be the good guy, and instead I shot and killed a man's father, someone that was just trying to keep his people alive, and then killed the ones he was trying to protect."
"Good guy? Is this a term from your people?"
"The good guy is the person who is the hero. The one who saves everyone and always does the right thing."
"No such person exists. Even the Heda is not without fault." It was odd to hear such forwardness in regards to the leader of the Trigedakru. Out of all of the people she had met, Liam was the most vocal about Lexa. He spoke of her as if she were another human being or a fellow warrior and not the preordained leader of the Coalition. Clarke found herself wanting to ask if he actually knew Lexa. She assumed he might have known her as a child as they were raised in the same clan.
Perhaps, there are no good guys.
She smiled. "My mother said something similar."
"We learn to put our faith in her word." He said referring to the Commander. "It is easy to follow in times of battle." Liam brandished his sword. "You must kill or be killed; it is the way of war. It is only after the battle is won that you must face your warriors, both living and dead."
"We must look into the eyes of our warriors and say, go, die for me." The words came easily from memory. While she had come to terms with her actions at Mount Weather, Clarke felt she was still hiding in some aspect. Sooner or later she would need to return to Camp Jaha and face her people. The longer she stayed amongst the Floudonkru, the more and less she wanted to return.
"Wise words."
Clarke grinned wryly. "Lexa said them to me." She brandished her own knife presented by the Commander and looked at the engravings. Her language skills were passable, as she was trying to grasp the common slang, but she was still unable to read better than a child.
"Can you tell me what this says?" Liam leaned over and looked at the engravings passively. Almost reverently, he ran his fingers along the blade.
"My beloved daughter. Slay your enemies and find peace amongst the stars."
"Lexa's father gave this to her?" He nodded and she clutched the weapon tenderly wondering why Lexa would part with such a treasure. Clarke wished she still had her fathers watch and would not dare part with an object holding such sentiment.
"The Heda must hold you in high esteem Klark of the Sky People." His gaze was unwavering.
"Why do you say this?" The engravings were smooth under her fingers.
He hesitated, obviously choosing his words carefully. "It is…customary to present a weapon, especially amongst the Trikru, to family or loved ones going to war, coming of age, between merging's of family, or even as a token to show favor or intention of courting."
Clarke froze and her eyes widened as she listened. "The weapon typically used is one of value either made by the one bestowing or passed down in the family. It signifies protection; that you are not alone in your fight. Protect this. For someone has found you worthy and Heda is seldom mistaken."
With shaking hands she took the blade, blinking watering eyes and sheathed the weapon with care.
"Welcome," India greeted somehow managing to bounce two infants on either hip, one being Jacob, while stirring a large pot of stew.
Liam fingered one of her braids fondly and took their child from her arms as Clarke reached for Jacob after him.
"How was everything while we were gone?" Clarke asked rubbing her nose against Jacobs as he laughed.
"All went well. It has been trying preparing for the winter, I had my sister watch the children this afternoon."
Clarke frequently took Rebekah and Jacob with her during the day, as Liam was busy on the many boats stocking fish and greens while India was skilled at smoking meats and tanning hides. She knew what snow was in theory and was excited to feel it for the first time. The Ark was always exactly 21° Celsius. Clarke found herself preparing for the winter besides the other city members and for the annual celebration of the Coalition.
Each year, the clans celebrated the time at which they became apart of the Coalition. As there were twelve clans, each one celebrated independently and towards the end a large celebration was held in the capital.
You should come with me to the capital. It will change the way you think of us.
You already have.
The celebration in Leston consisted of a bonfire to commemorate the lives lost before the Coalition and those forged afterwards. There was a large feast with music, and dancing and other small festivities that continued for three days. Clarke was told that the event in Polis lasted an entire week and was held in the spring.
Leston was the seventh clan to join the Coalition, and Luna told her how wary she was at first of the young Heda. She cracked a large smile when Luna recalled how Lexa demanded her clan join the Coalition or suffer the consequences. Clarke could almost imagine Luna giving the formidable Commander a queer smile and inviting her over for dinner.
"How is Luna?" India asked as Clarke assisted by arranging the food and making a grain milk bottle for Jacob in the process. Liam passed their son back to his wife in exchange for a plate of food.
She was always pleased to hear how favorable Luna was amongst the Floudonkru. Luna was suffering from a rather dry cough and shortness of breath that Clarke was treating with a series of hot syrups and thick vapors to ease her breathing. The Boat Captain did not seem overly concerned as her affliction worsened with the change of seasons when the air became damp and cold.
"A little better" Clarke responded. "I gave her another supply of medicine. She seems a bit preoccupied with the preparations for the Coalition festival."
"How is your garb coming along?" India inquired setting her youngest down on her lap as she fed him a bottle mimicking Clarke. The others sat down to eat and Rebekah eased her younger sister onto the chair that was just out of reach until the next summer.
"Have you seen it?" Rebekah probed serving herself and her sister.
Clarke shook her head. "Amelia is quite secretive. I just asked that she not make anything too…well exuberant. Although, I suppose it has to be somewhat formal as Luna insisted I be there to greet the official arriving from Polis."
Rebekah snorted and covered her mouth when her mother shot her a look. Clarke ignored Rebekah's odd behavior and set the finished bottle on the table and adjusted Jacob on her shoulder. After a moment, India helped cease her struggle.
"There." She smoothed Jacob's sparse dark hair but avoided touching his swinging right fist. Clarke grasped the fist, giving it a quick kiss, and patted his back. India was more than kind to Jacob, but still uncomfortable with his deformity.
"Motherhood suits you," she commented after a moment of watching Clarke pat Jacob's back.
"It's…a lot harder than it looks." She admitted and took the babe away from her shoulder to wipe his mouth and replace the messed towel.
You're still a child, Clarke.
Clarke stared at the babe in her arms wondering how her own mother must have felt raising her and live to see her child commit genocide.
You've crossed a line Clarke.
"It always is." India smiled sagely and resumed eating.
The meal recommenced and towards the end Clarke gently placed Jacob in a basinet with India and Liam's youngest. Coltrane chose that moment to enter the home.
"I'll be just a minute" she spoke to the warrior as she finished settling Jacob. Coltrane nodded and went to wait outside after accepting a piece of bread from Rebekah's younger sister, the same one that was fond of braiding his beard.
"You're sure you don't mind watching him? Luna likes it when I'm present for the city proceedings."
India shook her head. "Not at all."
"When is your house finished?" Rebekah asked eagerly.
Liam hushed his daughter with an apology and Clarke laughed understanding how exciting it must be for her. Clarke was rather enthused and humbled by the prospect of having her own sanctuary amongst the Floudonkru. Liam's family had been generous enough to give her lodging these long months, but Clarke did not wish to impose on the family more than necessary. Trigedakru did not have last names, and instead were named after the head of the preceding family. Liam's last name literally translated into the son of Alexander.
Clarke expected nothing in terms of grandeur for a new home, but she suspected more than the humble lodgings she had suggested when questioned. Not that she had any actual clue, since she had never seen it. She knew the general vicinity of where they were building, but the visual concept was a mystery.
Clarke shrugged tugging one of Rebekah's braids in affection. "They said perhaps in the spring."
After a kiss to her newly adopted son's forehead and thanks for supper, Clarke and Coltrane headed to city hall.
It was a longer precession than Clarke anticipated. She tried not to squirm in her chair alongside the more decorative one Luna resided in to her right, but she really wanted to stretch her legs. She had no idea how Coltrane stood at her side with such stillness through these proceedings. Clarke's mind frequently drifted to Jacob and wondered if he was asleep or keeping Liam's entire family from a peaceful evening.
City hall was filled with Luna's most trusted advisors, armed guards, and many of the city's populace. Every person in this hall wanted something. They wanted more food, more land, or criminals to be sentenced. The proceedings were so normal and reminiscent of her former life on the Ark that it was almost soothing. However, she found the system more involved and difficult than leading a bunch of delinquent teenagers and negotiating amongst enemies and allies to keep people alive.
For the most part, Luna was lenient. Clarke watched quietly and absorbed. Luna listened and compromised but was firm in her demands and sentences. The punishments fit the crimes, and fortunately floating, or death by torture was not a common occurrence.
Currently, they were listening to an old fisherman accuse a younger man from consistently stealing his catch. Winter was coming, and food, while not scarce, was valuable. Furthermore, the fisherman was older and manual labor was taxing on his body. Clarke looked at the fisherman and noted his slightly hunched back and worn face. His appendages were lean from years of physical exertion. The other man was strong, but his clothes hung loose with frays along the edges. His shoes were dirty and he looked tired. Clarke felt the slump of his shoulders as if it were her own.
"Klark."
She startled and composed herself before looking to Luna trying to maintain her neutral expression.
"This sentence passes to you."
The room quieted, and Clarke felt the pulse of her heartbeat quicken. Whether or not the room was silenced may have been her imagination, but she stared into Luna's eyes trying to decipher the words nonetheless. Coltrane met her gaze but revealed nothing. She turned and looked at the crowd and the many expectant gazes. Her own eyes landed on the fisherman and then the younger man who had allegedly stolen from him.
She looked to Luna one last time and the encouraging nod gave her courage. She took a breath realizing she was about to pass a sentence upon a man's life.
We don't decide who lives and dies.
Clarke sat tall and regal as she imagined Lexa might. For the most part, Clarke recalled her bored expression and sprawled posture upon her thrown. Her lips twitched but she succeeded in withholding the smile that threatened her face at the memory of Lexa. Thinking of the Commander was becoming less painful.
Clarke gazed at the fisherman and then the accused. When asked to speak truth, he had spoken true and declared himself guilty to the leader of his clan and the people. Stealing on the Ark was punishable by floating. People lived in fear from being caught and floated for committing lesser crimes. Illegal trade still occurred, as the need for food and other goods was always present. The desire to survive was instinctive. In the end, people would do whatever it took to live. They took chances, risks to keep themselves and their loved ones alive.
Revenge isn't justice.
"Do you have family?" she questioned the guilty party.
The man startled, obviously not expecting further inquiry. He was nervous, and she tried to soften her tone and relax the muscles in her face to coax his response.
"Yes, S-skai Prisa."
"Tell me of them, speak truth. Hold nothing back."
And he did. Clarke imagined that he wished to speak to the ground and less of his family if not for fear of displeasing her. She felt herself tested as she listened to his story. He had two sons, one that was considered to be dirty blood, like her Jacob. The other was…unwell, irrevocably scarred from the Mountain Men and one of the few freed from Lexa's betrayal. His wife was not lucky enough to have escaped the mountain.
He was a criminal, but Clarke reminded herself that she was one as well. Being a delinquent was how she made it to the ground. She knew too much and had the ability to change things in place of her father. Looking at the thin and somewhat humiliated man; she thought perhaps this was a time to implement such change. Only time would serve as a true indicator of whether her sentence would be effective. Amongst the Floudonkru, at least there was room for her to test the boundaries of these people that she had aligned herself with.
With a steady breath and square shoulders she met the eyes of the guilty.
"You will apprentice under the man you have stolen from. You shall obey his commands as if they were my own. You will take only a quarter of your rightful share for the days work and no more until you have repaid in double what you stole. You will not steal again, even for your family. If you need more you will beg. Only a coward steals, but it takes courage to supplicate and forgo your pride. If you prove unsatisfactory in your work, or your master finds you unworthy, your punishment will be…most unfortunate." She paused gazing down at him with impassioned eyes.
Clarke turned to the fisherman. "And you will show no discord nor favor to this man or his family. He is weak and wrong to steal from you. You must show him the benefits of true strength and hard work." She straightened in her chair and looked into the crowd with more authority than she felt. "Punishment is not for revenge, but to lessen crime and reform the criminal when the criminal is redeemable. In this instance," she nodded to the guilty party, "I find him worthy of redemption."
Clarke let out a breath as the two were taken away, the guilty man and the accused both somewhat puzzled and wary as they gazed at one another. Her lack of Trigedasleng during her sentence was purposeful, for Clarke felt she may have erred in terms of the sentence and she wanted to limit any possible misinterpretation.
"The sentence has been passed! So shall it be." Luna's voice carried amongst the hall with ease. Clarke was unsure if the clan leader was pleased with her judgment. There was general commotion as people began to speak amongst each other. No doubt they were discussing her ruling and the fact that it was she and not Luna who passed the sentence.
"Splita! She is not Floudonkru! She cannot pass a sentence! "
Clarke replayed his words in her mind, translating them quickly amid the ringing in her ears; it was obvious he was not pleased. The voice carried easily through the crowd and she searched for the owner.
"Pleni!"
Luna signaled the guards with a wave of her hand. They readily obeyed and she watched as men and women parted like the sea. Clarke at once feared for this mans life. Luna was just, but swift in her punishments. In all honestly, Luna gave the impression of listening to multiple parties and as such it was believed that others could sway her hand. In reality, when the Boat Captain's mind was decided, the matter would not be revisited with out due cause. Clarke was more lenient in her dealings at Luna's side for petty crimes, but on matters of utmost importance, she found herself also unrepentant for exacting ruthless verdicts. Oh, how her father might look down upon her and what or whom would he see if he did?
The outspoken man clearly warred with himself whether or not to flee and in the end he either had a death wish or was very foolish, for he shook off the guards and began to walk forward. The guards, enraged and insulted, grabbed him more forcefully and dragged him to the front of the dais.
"Your are out of turn." Luna's eyes were devoid of their usual warmth. "A lash for every word spoken." With a flick of her wrist, the guards began to carry him away.
Clarke had a fleeting thought and one chance to act.
"Hod op!"The hall was silent and she wanted to wince hearing her voice echo amongst the walls.
The guards ceased automatically looking to Luna. Clarke feared she might have finally over stepped her welcome and Luna's assuaging nature. Luna said nothing, merely waited with an expectant look daring her to do…something.
"I wish to hear him speak."
And she did. Clarke was tired of being appealed to and placated. She was a stranger to many of these people, known only for her actions and her prowess in battle. It was improbable that all amongst this more pliable tribe of Trigedakru were taken with the woman from the sky now sitting amongst their leaders and determining their very fate. It was one thing to lead in battle, and another entirely to do so in their home in a figurative time of peace.
"I admire his…" she searched for the word, "…tenacity and bravery." She looked at the male, still hesitant but less afraid. "…However, foolish," she added and his eyes turned uncertain. Clarke bowed her head to Luna and spoke in earnest with a lowered voice attempting to make their conversation more intimate. "I am here to learn. I cannot learn and protect myself, my…our people…if I listen to only what I want to hear."
Luna searched her eyes and nodded. She sat tall and waved her hand once and the man was released. He fell to the ground on hands and knees and continued to huddle near the floor as if to appear acquiescent.
"Speak truth." Luna gazed at him sternly and at her words he stilled and Clarke could almost see himself gathering the courage to speak. He directed himself to her and Clarke admired him even more as his voice was clear and concise. He could have easily made his words a rush of Trigedasleng and difficult for her to follow.
His eyes were dark and indignant. "You are Skayon. You may be a powerful leader, but you are not one of us." He rose higher onto his knees. "You care for the dirty blood and sit as if you rule. You are not Heda!"
Clarke was unsure if it was the mention of her adopted son, or Lexa that broke her calm. Her appreciation for truth turned to ire in an instant. She stood fast and tall interrupting his next words. Clarke appreciated truth, but she did not appreciate words spoken in ignorance. She had been through enough in her short time on the ground and had earned her place, her right to not just survive but to finally live.
"I have not taken anything that which was not given" she started staring down at spoke her words slowly, inflecting each word in their native tongue.
"I work amongst the Floudonkru every day, healing the ill, feeding the hungry, passing judgments over the wicked, and caring for the forgotten. The ones that you should be caring for." She licked her lips and eyed not just him but met the eyes of the people. "Dirty blood. It means nothing. The blood of those who do nothing, say nothing in the wake of such injustice bring dishonor to their family. They are the ones with dirty blood." For the first time in a while she spoke of the Mountain Men and their transgressions. "The blood of the Trigedakru's, even dirty, could have helped treat the disease that ailed the Mountain Men. Only the Skaikru could cure them. My blood and my honor are unsullied. The boy, who you say has dirty blood, is my son. My family is mine to protect, and you disgrace me. I will not allow this indignity."
The man appeared fully speechless and Luna took that moment to stand besides Clarke and clap a hand to her shoulder. She retrieved her ornate staff Clarke had once assumed more for adornment (and now was not so sure) and raised it chillingly to the man who spoke boldly. At once, yells and roars emerged, with fists waving in the air. Luna allowed this behavior momentarily until she raised her hand and waited until it was quiet.
"This matter is closed." The hairs on Clarke's arm prickled and Luna's words left no room for what possible punishment would entail. "I leave final judgment to you, as is your right. Sad kiln." She faced Clarke standing ceremoniously.
Clarke felt the propensity of the moment. If she let this man go, she risked proving herself as soft and unwilling to hold her rightful place amongst these people. But she also did not want to live in a world bent on fear of death. She thought of Jacob and the world she wanted him to grow in. More often these days Clarke felt her old self drift away and this new skin grow stronger, thicker and assured.
"Your punishment still stands. A lash for every ill word spoken." Clarke paused and stepped towards the man lowering her voice for words only between them. "I'm not punishing you for speaking your mind, but I will not allow you to speak ill of my son" Clarke paused and solidified her stance, "or so casually of the Commander."
Perhaps she imagined it, but his sharp nod seemed more respectful for a man she was sending to be whipped. As he was led away and the procession ended for the evening, Luna stood besides her pondering.
"He is correct," she spoke considering her. "You cannot have your Jacob as a son if you are not Floudonkru. We will rectify this."
Clarke wondered how exactly that was going to be rectified.
Three days passed since Clarke had defended her honor, and as Luna said, that of the Commanders. Respect for her grew in the city, rather than disdain for her swift hand. While she took no joy in causing another pain, some traditions and ways simply were and Clarke was learning how and what to compromise on. Yes, she had a man flogged, but she also cleaned his wounds, covered his lashings in poultice and wrapped his torso with the upmost care. She debated with herself over offering her medical assistance, but knew that infection could bring death and she did not want to be responsible for his. She knew how to kill with ease, but saving lives was difficult. Clarke was prepared to bargain or threaten him as needed but was pleasantly surprised. As expected, he refused her aid out of pride, but eventually relented. She figured he was taken aback by her genuine need to save as many lives as possible, or fearful of her wrath.
"My father always taught me to do what needs to be done for the good of the people."
She explained as she applied the poultice and wrapped his torso. Clarke eyed the wounds with clinical abandon. She empathized with his pain, but not that he had them. In fact, some part of her felt pride that this man had challenged her and she had retaliated appropriately.
"But my mother" Clarke continued, "is a healer, and she taught me to save lives. I want to protect those who need protecting, who need saving, but I won't hesitate to kill if I must. I've learned what I will and will not do by now." She finished the wrapping and tucked one of the strands inside the other to hold it in place. "I know myself better now."
Her patient stared at her silently, and she was unable to discern what he was thinking. He struggled onto his stomach and Clarke watched him reposition mentally warring with herself and finally decided not to assist. He was not weak, and he had shown her great strength in simply allowing her to help him. Not all Trigedakru were of similar notion. She allowed him the silence for a moment.
"If you ever question me in public again and threaten my family, a lashing will be the least of your worries. Nami?"
His brief but shaky nod was enough.
Amelia outdid herself. Clarke was used to wearing comfortable clothing in shades of grey, brown, tan, white and black. There were occasional colors, but they were dull reds, blues and greens. Compared to the worn and drab clothing from the Ark, her wardrobe amongst the Floudonkru was less confining and more free spirited. Clarke had never been ashamed of her body, but she was naturally modest, or at least more than she originally thought. It took her a few weeks to get used to showing her midriff, and bare arms and legs. As the weather cooled she found herself more comfortable adding another layer of clothes. The shoes were a definite update. As the weather cooled, she missed the feel of the warm sand between her toes. The metal floorboards of the Ark were cold and lifeless. On Earth, everything was alive.
The boots were tan, made of a solid animal hide and reached mid calf. The dress she wore was made of two layers. One piece was constructed as a tan skirt overlaid with a deep pink bodice with small sleeves. The bodice was fitted, but breathable and extended to create an extra plait of fabric in the front and back. Her chest was covered with thick leather that covered her shoulders up to her neck. Underneath she wore tan pants to complete her look. Clarke's attire was practical and it made her feel both strong and feminine. How could she have expected anything less from a Trigedakru clothing designer?
As Clarke stood next to Luna in her own warrior best, she felt prepared to meet the emissary from Polis. She wondered how much of this visit would reach Lexa. She pondered if Lexa knew where she was and that she was living under one of her twelve clans. Most certainly she would after today.
In the distance Clarke observed people on horseback and others besides the horses walking on foot. It was the largest convey she had seen other than when she had marched with the Trigedakru against the Mountain Men. And that was not a peaceful assembly but a death march. She counted twenty five people at first glance.
"Stand tall, rest easy, Klark." Luna spoke from besides her.
Clarke turned at her voice unable to meet her gaze; Luna's eyes were fixated on the distance focusing on the looming visitors. She found Luna's words and the fact that her gaze was steadfast and unwilling to meet her own odd. Clarke frowned slightly puzzled and faced the envoy. A proud figure surfaced riding atop a stallion amongst the soldiers. As they grew closer she felt her heart beat stutter and her hands grow clammy.
Riding a large beast with two faces was none other than the Commander herself.
The beast moved steadily forward and her hips swayed rhythmically with each stride. The Trikru were raised amongst horses, but did not rely on them nearly as much as the Hosakru who lived in the plains and were practically birthed atop horses. As Commander of the Coalition, she appreciated and detested many aspects of each of the twelve clans.
She tightened her legs against the beast and moved her feet, trying to increase the circulation through her legs. After many days of restless travel, she was ready to dismount and stretch her legs. As she spotted the leader of the Floudonkru in the distance and the woman besides her, she decided that staying on her steed was preferred. She felt strong and mighty, as every leader should. But next to the blond who fell from the sky, she felt small and vulnerable, more than she ever had in her entire life, even when she was first summoned to her calling as Commander.
Victory stands on the back of sacrifice.
Lexa felt a small amount of dread and anxiety over the inevitable reunion with the leader of the Skaikru. Looking into the Skayon's eyes would remind her of the intense fear over leaving Clarke to fend for herself at Mount Weather. With hindsight, she knew that she could have chosen differently but did what she thought was best in that moment, and Lexa did not believe in regrets. She was the Commander, and committing to each decision was required of her. It did a disservice to all when doubt settled beneath a leaders breast. Lexa had felt this doubt and fear when looking into Clarke's disbelieving eyes at the base of the mountain. She never wanted to feel that encompassing ambiguity again.
Please don't do this.
Lexa's eyes roamed Clarke's figure as her mount drew closer still. She looked healthy and her skin glowed from obvious time spent in the sun. Her hair was chopped in various lengths that framed her face in a pleasant style and she wore a warrior's dress that was impressive, but casual enough for the occasion. Donned in her garb, with her erect posture and impassioned eyes, Lexa found the title Skai Prisa appropriate. It was a title she had heard spoken amongst the Skaikru, especially those of Clarke's friends, and apparently it was one her people had heard and taken to heart. It was one thing to hear a forename, but another to earn it, especially amongst the Trigedakru.
"Her eyes do not leave you, Heda." Her guard spoke walking besides her on the right.
Lexa nodded absently and tried to look elsewhere, but found herself held captive by blue eyes. Even bleeding and battered, Lexa had found Clarke striking. Her attraction to the foreigner was instant. The air had felt charged from their first meeting, when Clarke had walked into her tent with an expectant air and they had traded careful jibes testing one another.
You're the one who burned 300 of my warriors alive.
You're the one who sent them there to kill us.
Lexa stilled the black steed and squared her shoulders. She dismounted with grace despite her fatigue and the long journey and the many burdens she had carried all the way from Polis to Leston. This trip was customary to celebrate each clans forging into the Coalition, but with it carried the threat of another war. In order to protect her people she was going to need the cooperation of an ally she had betrayed.
Her male guard, the very same one who had been present when she had received Luna's letter, took her reigns as she made the last few steps to meet the leader of Floudonkru and the woman whom ignited her heart for the first time since Costia's death.
You say having feelings makes me weak, but you're weak for hiding from them.
Lexa could tell that the Skai woman was holding back. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes burned in either passion or hatred. Clarke's eyes were like a fire filled storm, and it was no wonder since she had fallen to the earth within a ball of flame and proceeded to burn her enemies one by one until all were nothing but ash. Fire consumed all. The beautiful flames lured and coaxed until it was too late. Judging from Clarke's expression, Lexa wondered if she was to be next.
"Mounin, Heda." Luna dipped her head respectfully and held her fist over her heart in greeting.
"Mochof, Luna kom Floudonkru," Lexa responded in kind and grasped her forearm briefly.
"We have made preparations for your stay and a feast planned for this evening."
Lexa acknowledged her words but did not take her eyes from Clarke. Her fingers twitched at her side reflexively wishing to reach for the golden curls and feel their softness. Lexa had felt her golden hair once before when she had boldly reached for her and pressed their lips together on the eve of battle.
Maybe life should be about more than just surviving.
"Klark kom Skaikru." Lexa's voice was calm and the name of the Sky People's leader a whisper on her lips. Clarke's hands fisted at her sides and the muscles of her jaw tensed. Eyes that had looked at her once with the beginnings of trust and affection were guarded and wrathful.
Polis will change the way you think about us.
You already have.
No doubt any feelings of regard towards her people were no longer of Lexa's doing. The Skai Prisa had a way about her that drew others to her side, and she to them. It was one of the qualities that made her such a prodigious ally as well as a formidable adversary.
"Lexa."
She nearly smirked at the informal title coming from Clarke's lips if it were not for the cool tone it was delivered. Even then, to hear her voice and be in her presence after months of separation was well worth the contentious reception. It was going to take more than compromise and bargaining skills to rekindle an alliance with the woman who was becoming a legend amongst her people.
I do care, Clarke. But I made this choice with my head and not my heart.
Lexa was nothing but strong and patient; she would weather the storm to see the sunrise.
"Punishment is not for revenge, but to lessen crime and reform the criminal."- Elizabeth Fry
AN: I apologize for the delay in updates. It has been very busy between family vacations (2), baby showers (2 in one weekend) and me just being all bad moody. Please review as your reviews help fuel my desire to update. I picture Clarke a bit like Daenerys from GOT, at least her outfits.
Translations
Chon ste der- who is there
Mochof- thank you
Ai laik Klark kom Skaikru – I am Clark 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
Splita-outcast, outsider,
Hosa-horse, rider
Skayon-Sky person, arker
Sen in –hear, listen
Sad kiln-make a firm choice, decide clearly
Pleni-enough
Nami-feel me? Know what I mean, understand?
Mounin- welcome
Houmon- wife, husband, spouse
Haukom- how come, why
Heya, hei- hi, hello,
Gon we- leave, go away
Fisa-healer
Chil daun-stand down
Azgeda – Ice nation
Yumi-you and I, you and me
Yongon, ones own child, young one
Hod in- love,
Hodnes- in love