Disclaimer: I don't own The 100 or its characters, but I spend too much time convincing my friends to become obsessed with them (like I am!).

Chapter 7

When Hava had finished with Clarke's hair, the blonde could barely recognize herself. She'd always kept her hair down, or at most put it up into a messy ponytail, but here it was, pinned up and off her neck, leaving her neck completely bare. A few loose tendrils fell out around her face, but Hava told her that it was good, that it framed her visage nicely and fit more with her personality. And though Clarke didn't care much about how she looked, instead only caring that she had at least 5 good, decently pointed pins in her hair to use as weapons or lock picks, she was grateful for Hava's assistance.

"It's beautiful," Clarke told the girl, who beamed. "Thank you."

"You are the one who is beautiful, Heda. And your hair – it's just so lovely."

After that, Hava had tried her best to put make-up on Clarke's face, but this was where Clarke put her foot down. The last thing she needed was some charcoal running into her eyes if she got a chance to run, and besides, there was no need to further encourage Tygon.

Finally Hava seemed satisfied, and she led Clarke to the door, where she knocked and a guard opened up, ready to guide her to dinner. The Desert Grounder nodded at Hava before grabbing Clarke's elbow. "Wait!"

He let go of her for a second, and part of Clarke wanted to flee, to sprint away as fast as she could, but she knew she wouldn't get far; she didn't know where to go, and she was wearing an outfit so impractical for escape that it was nearly laughable.

Instead, Clarke turned to Hava. "Hava, can you be here later?" The girl looked confused, and Clarke grasped for a reason. "In case I need help undressing or getting my hair down?"

"Oh, yes, of course, Heda! I will be here when you return."

Clarke exhaled a small relieved breath. It wasn't that she needed Hava for anything of the sort, but rather, she wanted to be sure that if Tygon did try anything untoward, Hava would be in her chambers. Clarke believed him when he said he wouldn't force himself upon her, but she also knew that he was wily, and if the drugged water had taught her anything from the very beginning of this ordeal, it was that nothing here was as it seemed.

"Great, thank you. And it's just Clarke, not Heda."

Hava smiled shyly. "Of course. Clarke."

With that, the Desert Guard had looped a large hand around her elbow once again, and accompanied by one other Desert Grounder, he led her through a series of hallways and out the door. As they walked through the encampment, Clarke tried to count her steps and commit everything to memory. There was another huge hut close by, and what looked to be some sort of trade market further in the distance. She heard horses whinnying, and tried to figure out what direction the noises were coming from. Clarke wasn't sure if Octavia knew how to ride a horse, but they'd surely need to try to get her on one if she hoped to get away.

She looked up at the night sky only briefly, but it was a relief to be out in the open. Sure, she'd only been in that room for a short time, but she felt so entrapped. Clarke thought it was ironic that the only time in her life she'd really been free had been when the 100 had first landed on the ground. Looking back on it, sure she'd been extremely stressed out, what with trying to figure out how to survive and how to contact the Ark, plus dealing with Bellamy's idiocy and the bullies who followed him, but she hadn't been confined, or told what to do. On the Ark, in Mt. Weather… Even in Camp Jaha, there were constant restrictions and limitations. She had almost missed the time when it had just been the 100.

And now she was trapped again. Only this time, she didn't have 47 other people with her, or a bossy mother who loved her very much in her own way. Now, she was alone. It seemed hopeless, but her talk with Bellamy earlier had infused a sort of adrenalin into her that kept her going. Clarke wasn't the type to give up, but knowing that she had back-up helped. Together, they'd find a way to set everyone free.

She was roused from her thoughts when they entered another hut, and Clarke was ushered in. Once inside, Clarke noticed immediately that it smelled nice in here, and she saw candles burning and knew those must be the source of the aroma. Everything was candlelit, and a long table sat at the center of the room. Tygon was already seated at the head of one end.

His eyes drank her in as she walked closer, and Clarke wanted to punch that smirk right off his face. Instead, she took the seat offered to her at the other end of the table, grateful that he was seated as far from her as he could be, given the circumstances.

"Fisa," he nearly purred. "You look radiant."

Clarke ignored him, looking at what the table had to offer. In front of her was a platter with some kind of cooked meat on it, but Clarke didn't know what. There was also a glass of a red liquid, though she couldn't say what that was either.

"May I have some water?"

He smiled at her, knowing that she didn't trust him. Clarke was instantly annoyed. She was sure he was used to getting his way, with that dazzling grin. Even she couldn't deny how attractive he was. Tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, and strong in both mind and body… Of course, this got her to thinking about another with those same attributes, and Clarke quickly shook the thoughts away as he answered.

"I have had my people bring up the finest of our wine. You should give it a try before you turn to water."

Wine? Lexa had spoken of it. On the Ark, they drank liquor – whiskey, vodka, anything that could be easily distilled. On the ground, Monty had made moonshine, and while it hadn't tasted great, it had done the trick. Clarke had heard of this wine, and she knew it was alcoholic, and that alone made her resolve not to drink it. She couldn't be fuzzyheaded or uninhibited around Tygon.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" Clarke said, and that stupid smirk on his face grew wider.

"There was a saying, back before the bombs destroyed the war. Something about all work and no play making a person dull."

Clarke was not amused. "If I'm so dull, then we should probably end this dinner before it even begins."

Clarke began to stand up, and Tygon was instantly right in front of her, his hand on her shoulder, holding her in place. How had he moved so quickly?! "Sit down, Clarke."

She plopped back into her seat, and she was dismayed when he didn't immediately go back to his seat. Instead, he leaned against the table, towering above her, taking her in. "I merely wished for us to begin with pleasantries," he said, and Clarke nearly bristled.

"I wore your ridiculous choice of clothing. I came all the way here. I'm sorry to say that I doubt I can force myself to partake in this exchange of pleasantries," she said.

He appraised her. "Fine. Then let's get started. But first, you must try the food."

Clarke was starving, but she wanted to refuse on a matter of principle. She knew she needed to eat to keep up her strength, but she worried that the food would be drugged; she refused to touch the wine. She carefully cut a small bite, and as soon as it touched her tongue, she couldn't help but let out a small moan of appreciation. It was mouthwateringly good.

Tygon chuckled. "Seems as if you haven't eaten in a very long time. Can I take that to mean that the Trigedakru are low on supplies? There is no drought, so perhaps enemies have caused problems. Or maybe their new allies are greedy and only take. Conquerors often begin as friends or guests."

Clarke glared at him. "It's none of those things. If you knew anything, or you wanted to make peace, which is what all of you should be doing so we can live together and not repeat the mistakes of our ancestors, then you would know that we have been at war with an enemy – Mt. Weather."

Tygon said nothing, only looked at her curiously, and Clarke snuck in another bite before she continued. This was safe territory; it wasn't crucial information that could harm Lexa or her people, and maybe she could get Tygon to see common sense, that they should be allies, not enemies.

"They were taking Grounders and my friends, using their blood and bone marrow for their own selfish gains." Clarke suddenly remembered the missile and Tondc. But as far as she knew, the other tribe leaders had all been casualties of the tragedy. "Weren't you asked to come to Tondc?"

Tygon took a sip of wine, and Clarke noticed his tense grip. "We were not asked to join. We were not recognized as one of the twelve nations. Lexa is but a child, and yet the Trigedakru garner more respect than my tribe. We have limited resources, and we make do with what we can, but it is despicable."

Clarke suddenly realized she'd stumbled onto something bigger than she'd expected – the political intrigue of the Grounder tribes. But Tygon seemed clever, and his people clearly seemed to respect him. He had keen observational skills, and were it not for the way he'd treated her, she'd try to reason with him as one leader to another.

"So you attacked us out of revenge? You should be grateful you weren't at Tondc. The Mountain Men launched a missile, killing almost everyone."

"And yet you survived," he drawled, and Clarke immediately felt guilt claw up from the depths of her stomach. Like Finn's death, this was a decision she'd desperately tried to tamp down, and in the adrenalin rush of all that had happened since, she could convince herself that she'd made the hard choice, but the right one. But now, it still haunted her, a constant torment of guilt and self-revulsion.

"That's what I do," she said, spearing another bite of meat and wishing she had some water.

"I can see that. So, since you are a survivor, you will answer my questions, Fisa, because you want to protect both yourself and your people." He chuckled at her defiant glare. "And don't give me that look. If you would only try to see what I am offering you, you might discover that we can be on friendly terms."

His look suggested his lewder inner musings, and Clarke gripped her fork tightly. He noticed, of course. "I wouldn't suggest using such a small weapon. I think you'll find my skin is thicker than you think."

Clarke wanted to use both the forks and the pins to have a go at him, but she knew he was right. She had the pins, though, and she thought she could put them to use later if she could stave off Tygon's impending questions.

They were suddenly interrupted by a door opening, and Tygon looked extremely aggravated. "I thought I was clear when I said no interruptions." His voice was deadly soft, and Clarke found herself thankful that it was not directed towards her.

"Yes, Heda, but we have a problem." Clarke turned to see Jago in the room. For once, he didn't seem interested in her; he was all business.

"Wastelanders?" Tygon asked, picking up on the seriousness of his Second.

"Yes. There's been a breach, and a new set of demands were delivered along with… Several casualties."

Tygon's eyes turned to Clarke, narrowed. "We will finish dining tomorrow night, Fisa. For now, please finish your food and you will be escorted back to your tent."

He stood and followed Jago out, and Clarke felt shocked. Just what was going on? And was her luck finally turning around? A girl could hope, she mused, hurriedly eating the meat. She wanted to get out of here before Tygon returned, but her time on Earth had taught her not to waste what little sustenance she could get; you never knew when you had to be at your strongest.

She hurriedly ate a few more bites, but nerves stemmed her appetite. One guard stood watching her, ready to lead her back across camp. As soon as she paused, he hauled her up by her elbow, leading her back across the open encampment. As soon as they entered the larger hut that contained the chamber she was being kept in, Clarke ran her hand into her hair.

The guard thought nothing of it, and he most likely regretted it a second later when Clarke was using it to attack him. She lunged at him, ready to stab with the pin, but he overpowered her, sending the pin skittering along the floor. Clarke found herself thinking quickly, looking at their surroundings. She scrambled back, finding an unlit torch along the wall. She snagged it just as he made a grab for her again, and using all of her body weight as momentum, she swung around, the torch connecting with the guard's head. He crumpled, completely out cold, and Clarke knew her time was limited. She didn't know how long Tygon would be preoccupied, by she was going to make the most of it.

She needed to drag this body out of the way so someone wouldn't stumble upon it and realize she was missing. She grabbed another pin from her hair, and tendrils of blonde began to fall around her face. She used it to pick the lock on the nearest door, ready to stuff the body in there. As soon as the door swung open, Clarke gasped in surprise.

There, bound and gagged and looking extremely pissed, was Raven.

A/N: Kudos to those of you who guessed it was Raven last chapter - you guys are the best ;) Don't worry also; I didn't forget about her leg brace. You'll see! Anyway, we got to 100 reviews (thanks to epicvmarsfan for being lucky #100), which was SO EXCITING, so thanks so much, lovely readers. Please remember that reviews = inspiration, and that I'd love to hear from you all. I am hoping to post the next chapter in the next day or so. Have a great night, everybody! xoxo, TATF