Disclaimer: I don't own anything mentioned in this story.

A/n: Sorry for the long wait, more fun to come. Thank you guys for sticking with this story for a year.

Clarke stands on streets stained brown, snow thin and riddled with weapons and blood. The once tall walls on the Ice Nation are crumbled at her feet where she and the others stand with hesitant steps. Polaris steps close, pressing pale fingers into the wall with a bowed head, her shoulders tremble and she clenches her fingers into a fist. "Too many of my people dead." Her words come out in a rough drawl, catching in her throat. Clarke steps closer, fingers shaking as they walk through the first wall. Inside it is abandoned, bloodied stains left on the cold ground. They continue, finding dead Ice warriors along the way, Polaris pressing fingers into their chest, trembling as she speaks low words to their bodies. A prayer to meet their next life with the same greatness and loyalty they showed in this life. To live well in their next life. Clarke grips the edges of her jacket with white knuckles as they come across a dark cloak.

She bends down, rolling the body over and finding one of her riders. It is Natara, her black hair matted with dried blood, blue eyes open to the sky and throat ripped open, thick and jagged. Clarke presses fingers to the woman's cheeks, staring at her a long while before brushing her fingers over her eyes, forcing them closed as she whispers word of praise and greif too low for anyone to hear. The cold had kept their bodies relatively together, they were semi-frozen and Clarke grits her teeth before they continue to the rest of the once bustling city.

They find more of her riders and each one send a stab through Clarke's heart. Each dark cloak another of her loved ones. And she sees them when she closes her eyes. See them coming to her bloodied and broken as she is tied to that post in front of the desert rat. Her body boils with rage and she wants the once alive man to suffer, to bleed for each of her people and she understands the need for vengeance. The need to cut into the one that had taken so much from you. She aches like she had for too long, each death an added weight to her bowing shoulders.

Polaris fairs worse than Clarke, with each Ice warrior, villager and child she comes across her face cracks and her eyes fill with unshed tears. Each death splits the supposed queen with the heart of ice open. Each receive a soft press of fingers to their chests, low promises in their ears and a thick swallow before she wraps them in thick soft white cloaks stained in red. They rest them on pyres, the queen weaving knives and jewels into the wood. Thick pelts and food. "In your next life may you find those you lost. In your next life may you stand victorious. In your next life may you live proud, loyal and free. Let these offering bide you until you greet the air of you next life, with the blessing of your queen and the spirits I bid you safe journey." Polaris tilts her chin high as she finishes speaking, taking the torch from Clarke and pressing it into the fire, her eyes find Clarke's before turning to the large pile of her people, strong jaw trembling. "May we meet again in our next life."

Teary-eyed and with a now stiff set to her jaw, Polaris watches the fire with shaking shoulders, eye never leaving the flames even as the other set camp and night falls around them. She watches them, standing guard over them like her presence could protect their spirits on their journey. The flames roar well into the night. A bright beacon that grows dimmer and dimer as the moon falls slower and slower. Dawn begins to creep on the horizon, the edges of the fire dying down, a pile of ash and smoldering coals. Wagons are hitched to the horses, Clarke's dead riders on them, covered with thick blankets. Clarke swallows, coming to stand next to the queen. "I have to burn them at the mountain."

The Ice queen stares at the ashes, hand clenched tight into fists as her throat trembles with emotion, to caught up in greif. "You should go before it is too late."

The blonde's lips twist into a concerned bow. "Polaris."

"I will accompany you, pay my respects." She continues to watch each glow of the embers dull until it is cold, fading from an orange glow to black. "They fought to save as many as my people as they could, I owe them gratitude."

Clarke steps closer, feel the coolness that should be the woman's body heat. The Ice dweller's pale skin is covered in goosebumps and she lacks a thick coat. Clarke shrugs off the blanket around her shoulders, holding it to the woman. "What about your city?"

"We will rebuild." She doesn't turn away from the embers as Clarke drops the blanket on her shoulders. "My people will find solace in Polis for now, until the rain has washed the blood away and the wounds aren't so fresh. We will rebuild like we must."

Clarke's eyes find the pile of ash and embers, throat tight. "I am sorry."

"Death is inevitable Clarke, we simply control whether or not we fight to live." Fractured pale eyes bore into Clarke as she finally digs thin fingers into the blanket. "Their fight is over and they will live their next life in greatness and we will live ours now."

They stare at one another before Nox is stepping close to Clarke and Polaris, pale green eyes sorrowful. "The horses are ready."

Clarke blinks before turning to look at her rider, his eyes are bright with tears and his face flushed. "Thank you, we'll move out as dawn hits. It should take a day or two at most if we keep a steady pace."

"We'll get it done by today, we can run the horses, they were breed for it." His eyes wavier and his entire form shivers. "I don't. They need to be burned as soon as they can. We will be quick."

Clarke steps close to him, setting a hand to his shoulder. "Go eat something and check the hooves, we will be quick." He gives a sharp nod and practically runs to the horses.


They ride to the mountain, pace quick and hearts racing. The smell of death follows them and each hour that passes make each rider stiffer and stiffen in greif. The sun has set but they carry torches, continuing to race to the mountain with tight shoulders and drawn faces. when the moon breaks high in the sky they finally spot the dark looming shadow of the gate. Clarke's eyes water in greif at the smell of the dead and her shoulders shake as they come upon the area she had grown to fear so long ago. The place she and her riders had run from. They collect branches and logs, Datak's broad shoulder growing closer and closer to his ears as he hunches them with each chop of the wood, eyes full of rage and greif. Mikil grunts with each swing of the ax into the broken branches, stitches stark against the pale skin of his forehead. Clarke drags each branch, angling it just right and biting her cheek as the pyre slowly grows to accompany fifteen of their people.

Clarke stares at the bodies outside the mountain, the tunnels loom behind her and they haven't run into any people yet. Not the lost nor Octavia. Not Raven or any of the sky. It was eerily empty, the ones with the Ursa stitched on their dark cloaks feel the ghosts at their backs, their leader with closed eyes pulls in a shaking breath. Swears death flickers in the edges of her vision. Sky, ground and mountain, all dead and all greeting the edge of her eyes with anguished eyes. She shakes her head sharply, Aidan gripping her shoulder with a concerned twist to his lips. She dips her chin and he steps back, helping Romona and Nox load the dead onto the pyres. Astrid and Mirai pick up another of her riders as Clarke carefully cradles Isole's body, stitches burning as they pull across her body, strained. She is stepping to the woodwork with shaking knees and stiff shoulders before she gently sets Isole onto the wooden platform, tears dripping down dirty tan cheeks. The dead are wrapped in the thick dark pelts they had hunted themselves. The pelts that had shown them as Clarke's riders. The Ursa's shadows of pantha and paktraka. The blonde holds a thick bundle of fifteen braids in her left hand as each of the remaining warriors press a flame into the wood, Sar, Baladan and Asha the only one's gone from the ceremony. Left in Camp Jaha to mend.

Behind them hidden in the shadows stands a bear and a wolf. An ursa and a paktraka, thick coats gleaming in the smokey air. They rest on the forests edge, watching the precession. Clarke places the last torch in the wood. "May we meet on the next sunrise, in this life and every life after." As the words falls from her mouth and the flame join her other riders the wolf behind them releases a long anguished howl. It tears through the air and draws the attention of those by the mountain. Tears pool down tan cheeks and Clarke whips her head to the forest, finding a dark pelted wolf standing by the Ursa. The Ursa dips its head low with sorrowful eyes as the wolf stares Clarke down, tilting its head to the side before it dips its head and disappears into the shadows, the Ursa leaving in the other direction, ghosts of riders slipping into paktraka and pauna, racing ahead of her with roars and howls that echo in Clarke's heart.

She stares at the shadows, waiting for them to shift into something. To her nightmares, to her people, to the spirits. But they remain shadows, only shifting when the light cascades near them. She waits for the brush of her people's spirits, their very souls, pressing against her again. The reassuring edge of their face in her eyes. They never come and her gaze finds the fire, tears dripping down her chin as the remaining riders stand still, most shoulder tense and some shaking as they stand vigil in the land that haunts their minds.


"Clarke." The voice is soft and draws the blonde from her head. Slowly blinking she turns around, eyebrows dropping in question at her Second in Command. Baladan's dark green eyes are full of tears, throat thick as he swallows from his approach in the night. "There are problems in Polis."

Blue eyes harden and nimble fingers reach instinctively for the knife at her hip. "The Desert retaliating?"

"No. The people of Polis, they call for the Heda's head." Clarke drops her head to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut. They had been gone a week, a week of riding horses and burning the dead. A week of an aching chest and burning eyes.

She raises her chin and looks to the smoldering ashes of the once bright wooden pyre. Baladan follows her gaze and stares at it with anguish before turning back to her, his eyes spill over with tears and Clarke sighs low in her chest. "I'll head to Polis then." Mount Weather looms behind them, ghosts licking at their backs as they turn away from it and the soft glow of a smoldering fire. There is no rest for the wicked.


Clarke makes it into the gates of Polis a day later, horse panting beneath her thighs only to be apprehended by warriors when they cross to the center of the almost empty market place. She jerks against their hold but a blow to her head has her slumping and head ringing. Her riders fight valiantly but the people were prepared for them, taking down her riders and tying them together. Clarke's wounds itch and burn and she throws her head back with a guttural scream, breaking a man's nose and throws her shoulder into the man in front of her. They go down and her riders do the same, throwing their weight around until they are pressed into the ground, boots digging into their backs.

A man stands tall in the center of the crowd. A burn rests on the side of his face and he leads Lexa to the street. Her shoulders are tight as she glares at the man, lip split but her fingers curve like claws a the sight of blood on Clarke's head, rope tight on her wrist. "I told you I would face you accusations alone." Her words are sharp and the man ignores the Commander, tilting his head to have someone push Clarke forward.

The blonde holds back a yell as they shove her to her knee, wounds flaring. Even as the rope is pulling at her wrists she bares her teeth at them defiantly. "Lexa." Clarke hisses out, eyeing the crowd. "What happened?"

Lexa bares her teeth, hands itching to free Clarke as she straightens her spine, glaring at the crowd with defiance, green eyes sharp. "I told you Polis was unrest, they doubted me."

The man standing in the center of the crowd, eyes Lexa with caution. The woman stands tall despite the man's eyes, thought her do stay on Clarke as he speaks with placating hands to the crowd. "Calm. Do not raise your weapons to me."

The crowd itches, stepping closer, shifting with each breath the two chosen spirits take. "What are you doing to the Heda and the Ursa?!"

"For three summers we have followed a Commander that betrayed us all, the Sankru did not go about it correctly." His voice rings around the crowd, soothing and gentle despite the blood on his knuckles.

Baladan jerks in his hold, teeth bared and nose busted. "Release her or face death Natrona!"

"Silence, I am not the natrona here, they are." His eyes are sharp as they shift to Clarke and Lexa. "The Commander made a deal with the mountain men, risking our lives."

One of the Polis guards glares at the man, wrist cradled in his other hand, blood dripping down his teeth. "She saved hundreds of your peoples lives, none died in battle and all those bleed were freed."

The man's eyes are wide as he stands in the middle of everyone, the rope to Lexa's binds in his hands. Lexa is surprisingly still, Clarke's bright blue willing her to fight. "She sacrificed two hundred and fifty of our people."

Another native of Polis steps close, her hands on a knife. One of the others standing beside the man leading the uproar grips a sword, chin daring the woman to use her knife as she speaks, spitting out the name with dangerous eyes and too tight fingers. "The mountain killed them, a missile."

"A mountain she left standing." He is surprisingly calm standing in the face of the people, with the Commander tied beside him and the Ursa spitting blood at his feet as the crowd grows anxious. "A missile she knew about."

"The mountain is gone." One of the younger warriors speaks, face a matted mess of blood and bruises. "The Ursa felled it."

Another speaks up, shouldering her way through the crowd, turning on the man who had dared take down their Heda and Ursa. "How could she know of the missile?"

"She has visions of the future, she and the Ursa got out." His eyes are pained but his chin head high. "Two of the only surviving clan representative. It is not a coincidence."

"Heda?" A man whispers, staring at her in confusion, brows furrow down over his eyes.

"You lie." Another growls out, stepping close tot he man. Tension rings through the crowd and people reach fro weapons.

"ENOUGH!" The Ice queen screams, her eyes are wild as she jerks in her own bonds. "We do not need more death."

"The Sovereign was right, the Commander doomed us all." His eyes dart for his followers, the ones that hold the riders down and he shift nervously. "She left the mountain standing."

Polaris bares her teeth at him. "The mountain has fallen. You would do well to watch you tongue." She jerks at her binds, dropping the man holding her like a rock as she stands tall, forehead dripping blood from the man's nose. "The Commander will be dealt with by the clans, not angry villagers."

The man turns grasping for someone to stay on his side. "You want the same thing, the Commander gone."

"I am on the Commander's side." The crowd falls into wary silence and her chilling eyes find each and everyone of them before landing on Clarke and Lexa. "If any oppose her they call war with the Ice and I will not be merciful." The crowd stands stunned, the Queen of the Ice had wanted the Commander dead and gone once upon a time. In their silence the remaining ice people step from the crowd, cloaked in white, eyes hard as they stand behind their queen, ripping riders from the villagers grasps and cutting their bindings. "Any opposing the Commander can challenge her or I to a duel, let it be known that we do not fear death."

The silence is deafening as Clarke and her riders are freed from their bindings, Clarke shifting with glares and raw wrists. Baladan stands by her side, her riders flanking her as they watch the crowd warily, Polaris leaning forward to cut away Lexa ropes with a cautious set to her shoulders.

Lexa rolls her shoulders back as the rope is cut away and stands in front of her warriors and villagers, head tilted high as she addresses them. "It is true I knew of the missile." There are angry murmurs through the crowd and Clarke's riders grip their weapon as Clarke comes to stand by Lexa, trembling with rage. "But without their sacrifice the mountain men would have killed us all. I saw them eliminate us just as I saw the mountain fall."

One of the warriors speaks thickly, his hands tight on the man that attempted a revolution after devastation. "Two hundred and fifty innocents died Heda."

"I know, I bear their deaths just as I bear the death of my warriors." She closes her eyes, jaw trembling and her throat dries as she swallows down her emotions. Fire burning behind her eyelids. "This world is not a kind one, the life of a few for the many. It is not an easy decision." Lexa's eyes flash dangerously and she seems to loom over them all despite her height. "I will do whatever it takes for the good of my people, any more attempts or questioning of my command will be met with a blade. For now we rebuild Polis."

Clarke shuffles near Lexa, watching the people wearily as they disperse, dipping their head to their Heda as the guards detain those who tried to usurp her. "Do you think they'll try anything again?"

"Some will, they will not be the first or last." Lexa's hands a too tight against the knife at her hip and her breathing short even as her face remain stonic. "My guards will handle them."


Clarke eyes the people of Polis with caution as she unloads her saddle bags, she itches for her riders. For Isole's warm presence by her side, Locke's toothless grin and boisterous laugh. Natara's scowl that waivers with each joke Loki would attempt to tell. She longs for all of her riders, not just this tiny piece left behind by war. Not this tiny sliver of family that make her relieved yet anguished at the same time. Datak falls into step beside her, light eyes swirling with trepidation as they lead their horses to the stables his dark skin is broken out in a sweat. "I don't like Polis." His voice is low, too low for anyone else to hear as his shoulders threaten to climb to his ears. Eyes flickering to every person like they would jump from the shadows and take him. His body threatens to bolt, climb the gates like they weren't looming things of metal. Clarke stretches her hand out and the man with limbs that move like jelly latches onto her offered hand, shoulders relaxing from the climb to his ears.

It is almost comical the way they stand, Clarke, shorter than most standing tall like the world would fail to knock her over and Datak, larger than life but like a young foal in new surroundings. His fingers are tight around hers, his breathing calming but he presses close to her, seeming years younger than his twenty summers. "Count the doors with me Datak." Her voice is gentle as they lead the horses past curious people of Polis. He scowls at her. "We need to know how many doors down the stables are."

"We never stay long enough to need to count." His shoulders begin to climb to his ears again.

"I need to help the Commander with some things before I go." Her fingers squeeze his.

His chin tilts high, shoulders stiff. "I won't leave you here alone, I don't trust them."

She squeezes his fingers again. "I won't be alone. " She finds his suspicious eyes and offers a gentle smile. "You could go with Baladan back to Jaha, Octavia will need help building a place for the lost."

Light grey eyes brighten with an hint of hope. "Will my mother be with them?"

Clarke's heart stops and she shakes her head. "I don't know."

"I lost her." His elbow digs into her ribs as he presses closer to her side. "They were lost as well."

"We've been gone a long time Datak." Her voice cracks but he doesn't catch it.

"So were Amia and Sophia, but they came to Camp Jaha." He stares at her incredulously. "I heard stories Clarke."

"There's always hope."

His eyes brighten and his shoulders finally loosen. "Will Isole be there too? With Natara and Jinx?"

"No, they're gone."Clarke swallows, throat too tight. "Their spirits had to go away."

Her frown petulantly eyes dark and shoulders once again stiff. "I want them back, they should come back."

Clarke chokes on her breath. "Me too."

They make it to the stables and begin to settle in the horses with the others of their riders when Datak speaks again. "Twenty-six."

"Hmm?"

"Twenty-six doors from the center of town on the path." He doesn't look up from where he set the saddle bag down. "Two from the gates. Don't forget."

"Thank you." He shrugs at her words, brushing his fingers along his horse now, rag in his other hand as he cleans her.

Baladan comes from the shadows, green eyes on Datak with a soft look of love, he brushes Datak's braid from his eyes and the young man shoves Baladan's hand away with a scowl. "Don't touch my braids."

Baladan's lips twitch but he nods seriously. "Sorry pup, they were falling in your eyes."

He waves his hands to ward Baladan away. "Locke will braid them when he comes back." His eyes don't move from the task at hand so he doesn't see the flash of despair on both Clarke and Baladan's faces.

Clarke chokes back a sob, pressing her nose into her horse's flanks. Baladan speaks first, throat tight. "Locke will be away for a long while, why don't you have Romona braid them."

Datak wrinkles his nose. "She'll put feathers in them."

Baladan quirks his lips into a teasing smile. "Not if you ask her not to."

Datak looks up with wary eyes. "Locke always braids them."

Baladan swallows, his hand settling on Clarke's shoulder as they shake with silent greif, his own eyes threaten to spill tears. "I know pup."

Datak gently runs the cloth over the horse's sweat soaked skin. "Twenty-six."

Baladan tilts his head curiously. "Twenty-seven?"

Datak sends him a glare that makes Clarke smile. "No, twenty-six doors from the center of town, two from the gate. Clarke will forget. She always forgets the number."

"No I don't." Clarke scowls playfully, heart lightening at the normalcy of this.

"Yes you do, we stayed by the River Clan territory and you forgot to count trees." His eyes are narrowed. "You were lost."

Clarke scoffs, eyes bright. "I was exploring."

Datak rolls soft grey eyes, looking to the other rider. "She was lost Baladan."

Baladan snorts, face twisted in glee. "Yes she was pup."

"But we found her just like we'll find the others." Datak nods like it's the end of the conversation.

Baladan grips Clarke's hand with his own as he speaks chin trembling. "In our next life, we're never to far apart."

"They need to come back to this life." Datak wipes at a spot of mud on his cloak, cleaning it away painstakingly before beginning to clean his horse with gentle care again.

"My horse needs a cleaning as well Datak." Romona drops down from the shadows of the ceiling, feathers fluttering in her hair as she lands lithely on her feet, knees bent.

The young man scowls. "Do it yourself."

Romona flicks a feather at the boy. "You know he likes you better."

He brushes it off his shoulder with a scowl. "I don't fall from trees onto his back."

"No, I suppose you don't." Romona tilts her chin in goodbye as Clarke passes by Datak, offering her fingers for him to squeeze. He does so to both her and Baladan before turning his attention back to the animals in front of him and snipping back at Romona.

The second they are out of the stables Baladan's entire demeanor changes from teasing to stonic. "Do we travel or remain?"

Clarke stares at the light sky, still in awe after some many years on earth. "We need to make sure peace is continued between all the clans."

The remaining warriors fall in from the shadows. Nox tilting his head in contemplation as Astrid and Mikil flank him. Aidan shoving his way through them, Mirai rolling her eyes at the antics as she speaks. "Travel between them when we're done here?"

The blonde shakes her head, reminded of a time spent under the mountain with these rider. "None of you have to follow me."

The remaining of her riders, sans Sar, Asha, Romona and Datak grin and speak as one. "We follow the Ursa wherever we need to."

Clarke shakes her head, fists trembling. "We've lost too many."

"We'll see them again on the sunrise." Baladan grips her shoulder. "As always. When do we leave?"

"We must be here for the meeting of the clans. I have to be up there." She squeezes his finger, taking comfort in the gesture they both needed. "Help Lexa with Polis."


There is a man dressed in all silver coating, mask resting closed on his face. Identity hidden from all of the leaders but the Commander. "The lost reside in the forest how do we know to trust them?"

Clarke grits her teeth, barely keeps from baring them as she swallows her emotions and speaks. "I am the Ursa, they are under my protection."

The man waves his hand around in annoyance, Clarke bites back a growl of frustration at him. She can feel his contempt. "You let 250 burn in Ton DC, you have no interest in our people."

"They are my people. All of them." Clarke back stiffens and she sits straighter, legs begging her to stand tall in the face of this man's posturing. "If we are to speak of the lost then we need their leader in here."

The representative to the remaining desert people scoffs across from them. "They have no leader."

Clarke forces back a lurch at the man, she longs to erase any remaining of the Desert but this was a man chosen by the other leaders and advisers. By Lexa. "The have Okteivia kom Atlantis. She is the leader of the once lost. The chief of the City of the Lost."

"The traitor?" The River Clan leans forward, face twisted in contemplation.

"No." Clarke bites out, her eyes flicker to Lexa who sits at the head of the table like they hadn't tried to overthrow her three days ago. Like the people of Polis didn't have her bound in the center of the city. "Octavia is the one who brought the lost together when all other clans abandoned them. She's under my protection. Under the spirits protection."

"We have no say in who the spirits chose." It is the Iron Clan representative again and Clarke wants to roar until he falls to his knees in submission. "Why should we trust you Klark kom Skaikru?"

Clarke tilts her chin high. "Ai laik Klark kom Rydas."

A deep sound reverberates from his chest. "You are not skaikru then?"

"I have no clan, my interest lies in the safety and peace of all clans." Her hands fist as she stares him down. "I have no Clan ties."

He scoffs, shaking his head with a slight jingle of the chain around his neck. "You were once of the sky."

"I am from the sky. Isole was from the ice. Baladan is from the mountains, Romona from the woods and Sar from the boats. My others were abandoned by their clans as well. " Clarke squares her shoulders as each name falls from her lips, gaining confidence with each utter of her riders as she fights the urge to stand up and step into his personal space. "My riders are my connections to the Clans. To all of my people. I care for them all, I feel all their prayers and each of their deaths."

The Vine leader looks up at Clarke, there is no malicious intent but curiosity. "Some think the Commander should not lead any more, what is your opinion?"

Weeks ago she would have stood up and dragged Lexa to the street herself. "The Commander was chosen by the spirits, she has the best interest of her people in her thoughts." Clarke meets green eyes across the expanse of the table, mind reeling. "She brought the queen into an alliance after the queen killed her beloved. She left my people in the mountain to save her people. Her first interest will always be the clans. Her people."

The man who had lent his warriors to Clarke continues to question her diplomatically, settling the tension in the room with each calm word. "And that does not bother you?"

"The Skaikru can become a part of a new coalition." Clarke swallows tilting her jaw up and letting the Ursa's presence flood the room. "One not founded on war but one for peace. There does not need to be any more deaths. We don't need to send children to war."

The man in the suit of Iron shifts, the overlapping metal not even making a sound as his voice rings with disbelief. "You believe this, Ursa?"

Clarke stares at him with desperate eye. They tremble with an aching need. "I long for it, I see it. It will happen." The Vine leader dips his head respectfully, having his daughter home helped him side with the Ursa.

There is a thick silence before the man of Iron speaks. "And if we don't agree to this?"

"The spirits chose me for a reason." Clarke's voice falls dangerously low and everyone in the room stiffens. "I erased the stain of the mountain men from the ground. The Desert rat is dead because of my rider. I will do whatever it takes to keep peace, never doubt that."

The River Clan leader looks up, eyes cautious as he shifts in his seat. "Will there be retaliations for leaving your people in the mountain?"

"I saved the skai-kru at the price of the mountain men." Her jaw tightens, images flooding her brain like they always do. "It is not forgiven or forgotten but understood and actions will not be taken against you."

"Then we will not take actions for Ton DC." Lexa's shoulders loosen slightly, Clarke the only to notice as the Iron Clan speaks. "They died for the mountain to fall." His eyes harden. "Even if the Commander did nothing of it."

Clarke lets her face twist into a glare, her inside itching at this man who knew nothing of their battles. Who hid in his City of Iron like a coward. "The Heda saw the mountain burn, it simply had to be me who burned it. She made the choice she had too."


Clarke stands at the ocean's edge later that night, the wind throws her hair in a disarray but she doesn't move even as it bites at her cheeks too lost in thought and memories. There is the soft sound of sand and gravel behind her. "They have located Octavia." Lexa's voice is soft, face clean of any paint.

Clarke keeps her arm wrapped around her stomach, staring at the dark waters. "Are her people okay?"

"I sent Indra." Lexa comes to stand beside her. "All will be fine."

Clarke eyes the stiff set of Lexa's shoulders. "You don't like that I have them back in your territory."

There is a wry twitch to Lexa's lips. "They are in your territory not mine."

Clarke holds back a snort but shakes her head, it feel like years ago in that tent. Like there wasn't a betrayal, blood and death between them. "But you don't like it."

"The banished were banished for reasons."

"I was prisoner for reasons as well." Clarke lips her lips, turning her head to face Lexa. "Believe me I know what they feel."

"Your people imprisoned you?" The brunette stiffen, eyes darkening and her hand grabs the handle of her knife unconsciously as Clarke turns back to face the ocean.

Clarke has a small smile twitching at her lips. "All of the hundred except for Bellamy and Raven were in the Sky-box. In prison." Clarke flicks her eyes to meet Lexa's. "Everyone deserves a second chance." Lexa dips her chin in acknowledgment, swallowing thickly.

"They need not fear retaliation, the Ursa has spoken for them." Her face twists just like it had in that tent when she spoke of Octavia's safety. Eyes bright and so honest. "They are safe."

The blonde swallows down any memories, any emotion. "Good."

Lexa lets the wind through her hood, dragging it further down her shoulders. "They reside near the mountain."

"It's the only territory I own." Clarke turns her eyes back to Lexa, raising one brow. "Ask what you really want to."

"Will your people inhabit the mountain, over take it?" The stiff set is back to her shoulders and jaw.

Clarke shivers, hand shaking and a gunshot echoing in her ears. "There's too many memories in that place." Clarke then shrugs, licking her lips. "My mother and Raven have been getting medical supplies out of it, I know she would want to turn it into a hospital."

every emotion has a barely there twitch on the clean face of the Commander. Curiosity, caution and confusion. "But you will not let her?"

"Baladan is the only one who has the key to the mountain." The blaring of alarms is harsh against her ears but she knows it's in her head. Shaking it she stares at the dark ocean instead of stained white walls. "The only one who can get in. He takes them there and takes them out."

"And you don't know how to get in?"

"I like to forget." Clarke searches Lexa's face as she speaks. "We're in a coalition, the mountain won't be used against you."

Lexa tilts her chin up diplomatically, voice even. "Promise are not always kept Clarke."

Clarke snorts. "I know that more than anybody Lexa." She rubs at the bridge of her nose. "I'm done fighting. I'm done losing people."

"Death is not the end."

Clarke's lips quirk bitter sweetly. "No, its not."


Octavia shows up with a girl no older than fourteen at her side, stalking through the gates without a care in the world. Clarke lifts her eyebrow and Octavia rolls her eyes. "I picked a second."

Clarke smiles at her, holding out her hand. "I'm Clarke."

The girl stares at her with wide brown eyes before stepping forward with a tilt of her chin and narrowed eyes. Clarke can see the defiance in her gaze and it makes her lips twitch, reminded of a younger Octavia. "Nani."

"It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise Ursa." Her voice is thick and the English slow but there is a determined gleam in her eyes.

Clarke winces and Octavia smirks as she speaks. "Can't drop that title can you?"

"Shut up." Clarke grumbles before she stares past Octavia. "Didn't bring anyone else?"

"They were nervous, I don't blame them." Octavia eyes Polis, the blood had been washed from the streets and the bodies picked up. "The Arc made me nervous after it landed too. Demons are hard to fight when they're a place." Octavia stiffens, the one who banished them resided in Polis, just like the guards stayed in the Arc.

Clarke shivers, hand twitching and back stinging. "Yeah." She shakes herself. "How's the camp going? I can send my riders there to help."

"We're good." Octavia's eyes are brighter than Clarke had ever seen them and she lets her eyes trace over Octavia. Her shoulders are more taut than three years ago and she stands like she finally found her place in the world, new scars on her body but a new freedom as well. "We have tents up for now."

"Good, if you need anything."

Octavia's eyes flash and the is a dangerous quality to her voice. "I can take care of my people Clarke, don't worry."

Clarke stiffens and Nani looks between them warily. "Sorry."

"No." Octavia closes her eyes and rubs at her face. "Sorry, three years of pent up aggression, I always sucked at communicating."

"It's fine." Clarke swallows, shifting her feet. "Asha?"

Octavia loses the tense shoulders and offers Clarke an almost smile. "She's fine, Sar is forcing her to stay bed ridden until Abby's okay. Harper gives me run down when she stop by."

The blonde's face crinkles in confusion, Harper had seen the worse side of the mountain, resting near it had to be off putting. "Harper stops by?"

"The hundred, most of them have moved to help out. Moved there." Octavia shrugs, eyes guarded. "The rejects band together I guess."

There a shout at the gate as Clarke opens her mouth and the two women throw each other a look before they push their way through the crowd, Nani on their heels. Lexa stalks through the parted crowd before climbing up the wall, Clarke following after her without hesitation. Octavia climbing up the ladder as well, Clarke boots almost knocking her in the head in their haste. On the other side of the gate, standing under them is the man who had sent them down to earth in the first place. "I want to talk." His voice is even and he stares at them with hands held out wide and cautiously.

Clarke stares at hi, new lines on his face but he was the man she grew up with. "It's Jaha. He used to lead our people."

Lexa eyes him with a wary lit to her words. "The man the sky camp is named after?'

Octavia shifts, staring at the man like she can get answers from him without speaking and Clarke feels her gut drop as she speaks. "Yeah."

Lexa clenches her jaw and stands straighter. "Drop all your weapons and you may enter." There are two men beside him, stark with polished boots and clean jackets, but hands weaponless.

The three men drop all their packs into the hands of the guards and are patted down before they walk in, no weapons found but two hand guns on the two silent men. Jaha eyes them all, finally meeting Lexa's eyes. "Commander, you haven't changed in three years."

"Why are you here?" Lexa calmly asks, the Heda is sending to many images for her to focus on and Clarke steps by her side. Presence a familiar comfort in the turmoil of her head.

Jaha stands tall, eyes too bright. The three woman stiffen, Octavia more so, hands itching to her sword. Nani grips her sword tightly, waiting for Octavia's order as Jaha speaks. "We're from the city of light. And we've brought an peace offering." He smiles, eyes boring into Lexa's as he opens his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Join us or die."