This chapter and all chapters after Chapter 17 will most likely have spoilers for all of the Gargoyles series, except for the "Goliath Chronicles," which is really bad. So just the first few seasons of Gargoyles will have their spoilers in this.

And for anyone who has seen Gargoyles and knows about the "trio," Lexington, Broadway and Brooklyn's rivalry for the attentions of Angela, Demona's daughter, I'm changing that. I didn't like that any of the trio felt entitled to Angela. So she ends up with an OC gargoyle character, named Vincent.

As I've said, absolutely none of the Disney stuff belongs to me.

Warriors of the Valley

Chapter 19

A Kindred Spirit

In the land of the Luwoda, the place at one time called "Disneyworld," specifically in the Haunted Mansion, morning came. That was basically the short version of it. And the boring part of it. The longer version and the more complicated version of it as well, was that as soon as the sun came leaking in through the square-shaped, glass window on the opposite wall of the bed where Clarke and Monroe were lying, wrapped around each other, Monroe raised her head and squinted at the satin drapes over the window as the sun met her eyes. Given that she was the one facing the window, she woke up first to see the sunlight.

She yawned, fighting the urge to snort. Earth. Go figure. Even waking up here was a painful endeavor. While Monroe would never regret everything she went through, because it left her here to right now, with the woman she loved, even though that woman had some serious issues going on right now, she could acknowledge that maybe being on the Ark had been better. Sure, every crime was punishable by death. But so what? That didn't seem very different to here. With the Grounders, it seemed that if someone who wasn't a Grounder even moved the wrong way, they'd have their hand potentially chopped off.

So you know what? Monroe wasn't sure that in another life, she wouldn't choose to be on the Ark again and stay there, that was, under the two conditions-that the system remained sustainable and that Monroe had a chance of meeting Clarke there and keeping her safe.

Monroe took a moment to take in her surroundings. Clarke was asleep next to her, snuggled up against her neck. Monroe smiled down at Clarke, pleased to see how peaceful Clarke looked right now. It seemed as if Clarke hadn't had any nightmares. At least, that was what Monroe hoped for the other woman.

She leaned down and gently kissed Clarke's forehead. She then tilted her head back and looked around the room. Niylah was awake as well. This was no shocker to Monroe. However, something caught Monroe's eye. That radio that Clarke had been hefting around. It was on one of the tables. Monroe narrowed her eyes. Clarke had been on the radio with someone, throughout all of yesterday. Who?

Clarke had called her "Callie." Monroe didn't remember any Callie. The only people of supposed authority that had come down had been the older Jaha, Markus Kane and Abby Griffin.

But then, Monroe recalled someone named Callie. Callie Cartwig. She remembered Clarke mentioning Callie a few times in the previous time. She mentioned Callie as being more of a motherly figure to her and Wells than Abby had been.

Monroe cocked her head. She wanted to believe that this "Callie" could be trusted. But she didn't know about that. She needed to make sure that this woman was loyal to Clarke. She knew how many betrayals Clarke had suffered. And she was going to make sure that Clarke didn't suffer any more, so long as Monroe had something to say about it.

Maneuvering herself very, very carefully, Monroe released Clarke and slipped over Clarke's body, getting up off the bed and stepping down onto the floor. She then went to the table and picked up the radio. She glanced over at Niylah who watched her with questions in her brown eyes.

Monroe nodded to Niylah, speaking very quietly, so that Clarke didn't wake up, "I'm just going to talk to who Clarke's been talking to. I want to make sure this person's on Clarke's side."

Niylah nodded, but Monroe wasn't sure if Niylah fully trusted her yet or not. However, Niylah didn't get up to stop the other young woman.

Monroe stepped outside of the room, closing the door behind her and held the radio tightly to her as she went to the hallway. She saw a few guards down the hall eyeing her and she said quietly, fighting the temptation to sneer at them in Trigedasleng-and she spoke to them at the moment in English, "Everything's fine. Just need to walk around, is all."

The guards still looked suspicious, but they thankfully made no move to stop her. She raised the radio to her face and she started speaking, "Hello? Anyone there?"

When she heard no response, she decided to check if it was on. She turned the dial and she heard a slight staticky noise from the radio, indicating that it had just been switched on. She then tried again, "Hello?"

There was still some static, then a voice answered over the radio, "Hello? Clarke? Wells?"

Monroe's eyebrows raised, hearing the female voice on the other end. "Hey," She began, "This isn't Clarke or Wells. Sorry. This is Zoe Monroe. One of the 100 prisoners sent down. I'm with Clarke and Wells and a few others on the ground. In Disneyworld, Florida. Who's this?"

There was silence and Monroe half worried that maybe this person, Callie or someone else, wouldn't trust any prisoner who weren't Clarke or Wells. However, thankfully an answer came eventually.

"Hello," The woman on the other end answered, "This is Chancellor Callie Cartwig. Pleased to meet you, Zoe Monroe. I think. Are Clarke and Wells alright? Are they safe?"

Monroe smiled at the question. "They're fine, Chancellor Cartwig." She assured Callie. "Both of them are good. They're asleep right now. We found a place full of Grounders where they're allowing guests to stay for a while. Most Grounders seem to be of the disagreeable kind. These Grounders are not. Not so far, anyway."

There was hesitation, then Callie answered, "Good to know. Thank you. We're heading there now. I want to make sure that both Clarke and Wells are safe."

Monroe narrowed her eyes. "Wait, you guys are coming here, now?" Monroe couldn't help the apprehension in her voice as she sent an uneasy glance down the hall at the guards. Thankfully they hadn't seemed to hear their conversation. What would people as easily freaked out as the cowardly Grounders think when they say a giant ship that followed after a group of people that the Grounders could label as "scouts?" The answer, unfortunately, was an obvious one. Invasion. The Grounders, upon seeing the rest of the Ark ship and the Ark people, would think "invasion."

"Not long from now." Callie assured Monroe. "Only in a few hours, we should get there."

"That's not a good thing," Monroe said, "No disrespect meant, Chancellor. But that won't be good. The people on the ground here?" Monroe glanced down the hall again, taking a few steps back, not wanting to risk the Grounder guards hearing, "They're not exactly what you'd call 'brave.' They're cowards. As soon as they see a big ship like the Ark? They'll assume that we're trying to invade them. They're being kind to us for now. But that could change easily as soon as they see the Ark when it comes by. And please, remember that Clarke and Wells are both in this Grounder tribe's "care.""

Monroe hoped she had conveyed enough of a sense of foreboding to Callie for the new chancellor to reconsider coming down in a rush.

There was more silence, then Callie answered, "If what you're saying is true, they'll hurt Clarke and Wells because they think they're under attack?"

"That's right," Monroe answered, "Don't get me wrong, so far I hate Grounders in general. But if we can avoid any confrontation we don't need, then I think that would end well for all of us. I'm sorry, I'm sure you didn't ask for a criminal who has no political history at all, but may I give you some advice?"

Callie answered, "Yes?"

Monroe continued at Callie's prompt, "Hold back. Don't bring the Ark down here and spook the fragile little flowers that are the Grounders. Wait till Clarke, Wells and the rest of us leave on ships to head for South America. Then you can follow us there."

There was hesitation. Then Callie answered, "Are you sure that this is the best course of action, Zoe?"

Monroe answered, "I prefer 'Monroe.' If that's okay with you, Chancellor," Though she strongly preferred what she was called, she knew she was on eggshells here with people in power, like always, so she had to be careful.

"Alright," Callie answered, "You're sure that's the best course of action, Monroe?"

Monroe sighed, "Based on what I've seen so far," And based on what she knew about how utterly easily freaked out the supposedly "strong Grounders" were, "Yes. I think so."

Because seriously, Grounders were probably the whiniest people Monroe had ever met. Well, apart from the 100 and that piece of shit that called himself a "leader," even though he was just a child molesting sack of fecal matter, Bellamy. But apart from them, Grounders were some of the whiniest people Monroe had ever met.

How exactly had they survived as long as they had anyway?

Someone asked a question, the Grounders freaked out. Someone went across a river, the Grounders freaked out. Someone walked into the wrong territory, the Grounders freaked out. Someone offered to teach the Grounders how to shoot, the Grounders freaked out.

Seriously, the Grounders acted like they were so tough and in control. But they were weak. Timid, terrified little rodents.

And they were the descendants of the survivors of the bombs and radiation? Boy, that was sad and pitiful.

Monroe heard Callie's answer, catching the braided girl's attention. "Alright," Callie answered, "Does Clarke trust you? Does Wells?"

Monroe answered, positive about this answer, as she was about everything else, "Yes. As much as I think Clarke is able to trust someone right now, I think she does. And Wells definitely does."

Clarke's trust was something they could work on. But Monroe knew that Clarke trusted her to an extent. Not much. But to an extent. Not as much as Monroe would like, but it was a start. Wells, however, given that he hadn't drastically changed in any way, seemed to trust her almost fully. So Monroe suspected that she had made the correct estimation.

"Alright, then," Callie answered, "Then I trust you. But I need absolute proof that Clarke and Wells are trusting you. Tell me something about Clarke and Wells that only a friend would know."

Monroe's eyes widened, startled by this demanding of proof. But she was also relieved. It seemed to be further evidence that this woman had Clarke and Wells's best interest in mind.

And thankfully, Monroe had the ammo that Callie was looking for.

"That one's easy," Monroe said, smirking, remembering something Clarke had told her one time, before Clarke, the Commander and the Commander's army had first tried to storm Mount Weather-before the weak bitch Commander's betrayal, "One time, when Clarke and Wells were younger, when Wells was thirteen and Clarke was twelve, they snuck into a pantry where there were extra rations and they at all of the dessert rations. Clarke's parents found out and were furious, but they covered it up for Clarke and Wells so that neither of the kids would end up in a skybox. So all three you, Abby and Jake Griffin lied for Clarke and Wells. To Thelonius Jaha's face. Wells's favorite of the desserts was a type of artificial fig pudding. Clarke's favorite of the desserts was some artificial pineapple and caramel thing."

There was no answer for a while, but Monroe was positive that she heard an almost muffled, "holy shit" on the other end and Monroe grinned.

Callie answered, "Well, then. I guess I have my answer, don't I? And technically, the fig pudding also had some raisins and almonds in it. But yes, I guess you pass. Right then. I suppose even though I've never met you or heard of you, I'll listen to you. For now. But I want to hear from Clarke and Wells soon."

Monroe answered, "You won't have to worry about that right now. They're sleeping. But they'll be up soon." She hesitated and said, "Now what about you?"

There was more silence and Callie then asked, "What about me?"

Monroe sighed. There was no easy way for her to ask this, was there?

"Are you only on Clarke and Wells's side?" Monroe asked, "Or are you going to turn on them first chance you get?"

This time, Monroe could almost feel the shock from Callie at the accusatory question. Even though she heard no answer, Monroe got the feeling that the new chancellor wanted to say, 'how dare you.' But nothing of the sort was said.

Then Callie answered.

"I'm sorry," Callie said, "What exactly do you mean?"

"I mean what I say." Monroe answered. "You grilled me. Now I'm grilling you, got it? I want to make sure that Clarke and Wells will be safe with you. Look, I'd like to believe that you're better than both Jaha and better than Kane. And even better than Dr. Griffin. But I don't have evidence of this yet.

"I want Clarke and Wells safe," Monroe took a breath as she continued, "I know this doesn't make any sense to you, since I've technically just met the two of them, but they mean a lot to me. Well, Clarke does. And because Wells means a lot to Clarke, he means a lot to me. But can you give me something-anything for me to go on to prove that you're not going to betray either of them?"

There was silence. Then Callie spoke again, "I see. Alright. How about this? I used to date Kane. When I saw how merciless he was to the prisoners, I broke up with him and have never been able to stomach him since. When he killed Thelonius Jaha, I decided to float him. Not because he committed murder, but because I realized he was too dangerous to be near Clarke and Wells. Because I didn't trust him to be near them. When I took control of the Ark, I intended and still intend to do nothing, except protect Clarke and Wells. The two children that I love like my own daughter and son. And when we reach Earth, I will do nothing but protect them. So if you don't believe me, when we get to Earth, you can just go ahead and shoot me if you want to."

Monroe was startled into silence at the challenging sneer in Callie's voice as the new chancellor relayed this defiant message. She stared at the radio, stunned.

Well, shit. Looked like Callie had grabbed a gauntlet and had thrown it down in challenge right before Monroe. Monroe might not know much about medieval things, but she knew 'throwing down a gauntlet' was a thing back in the medieval era. Or was a myth created for that time period. Honestly, she didn't know. But either way, it sounded accurate to what Callie had just done.

"Well," Monroe snorted, "Fuck." She heard a chuckle on the other end of the radio and Monroe added, "Shit. I can see why the people of the Ark voted for you. You're hardcore."

Callie snorted, "Thank you. But hardcore only gets us so far. Are you going to help me protect Clarke and Wells? Because I promise I'll do my part to protect them."

Monroe huffed out a breath. There was nothing, no physical proof that could be offered to her about Callie's sincerity, not while Callie was on the Ark. But everything in Callie's voice screamed of her conviction, the truth in her words. If Callie was lying, then she was a very, very good liar.

Monroe told her this quietly and Callie laughed.

"You know," Callie said, "If you're lying, then I'd say the same thing about you too."

Monroe snorted, smirking. Why did she get the feeling that an understanding had just been made?

"Alright, then," Monroe said, "Let's go with the possibility that we can trust each other for now. What now? Me, Clarke, Wells and the rest of us in our group, we all go to South America. And you follow us, right?"

"Yes," Callie answered, "I suppose I can go with that plan. We'll follow you when you say you get to South America. We'll bring weapons."

Monroe glanced down the hall and whispered to Callie, "Easy with the talk about weapons, chancellor. Remember, we're dealing with very jumpy people. Trust me, we even talk about weapons or more people coming down, they'll start screaming like entitled babies. How they survived as long as they have, I don't know."

She heard a sigh from Callie, "Right. Fine. We'll bring you the 'you-know-what' when we reach you in South America. Just hang tight till we get there. And I want to hear from Clarke and Wells today. Or we're coming down to where you are now."

Monroe nodded, even though she knew Callie couldn't see her. "Understood," She promised the chancellor. "Clarke and Wells will get up soon. Just give them a couple of hours. Then they can talk."

Callie answered, "Alright. Let me know when I can talk with them. Good speaking with you, Monroe."

"Good talking with you, chancellor." Monroe said, walking back to her, Clarke and Niylah's room, now left feeling unsure.

Callie Cartwig. She was someone who Monroe knew nothing about till now. At least with Thelonius Jaha, Kane, Abby-Monroe knew not to trust any of them. She at least knew what she was getting. But Callie? She was a wildcard. Monroe didn't know who Callie was or if Callie could be trusted. But she certainly was good at coming off as trustworthy. Monroe would give Callie that much.

As Monroe turned off the radio, giving a cautious glance to the guards, she went back to the room and entered, seeing Niylah almost fully dressed, all her furs draped over herself as she eyed Monroe as the youngest of the three in the room came in. "Hello, Munroh." Niylah acknowledged. "Are you alright?"

Monroe nodded. "I'm fine." She said, supposing that it was the truth-it was the closest to the truth anyway, since 'fine' was the best she could be as of right now. "Just talked with," Monroe glanced at Clarke, seeing that the other young woman was still asleep and said softly to Niylah, "Talking with people on the Ark. They were planning on coming down here. Not to South America, but to here in Florida. And I don't think your people would have reacted well to seeing a huge ship full of people coming down."

Niylah shook her head. "That was wise, Munroh," Niylah said, "You're right. They wouldn't have reacted well to seeing the Ark coming down in this specific land. It would have ended very badly. Did you tell them to meet us in this 'South America' instead?"

Monroe nodded. "That's right." She said, "I told them that your people would have become violent when seeing the Ark. So I told them to meet us in South America. And the new chancellor, Callie Cartwig, agreed."

Niylah smiled. "That's good." She said, "I can see why Klark trusts you."

Monroe shrugged, fighting a slightly self-conscious smile. "Well, I don't know how much she trusts me," Monroe confessed. "But hopefully she trusts me enough to forgive that I grabbed the radio."

She put the radio back down onto the small table next to her and Clarke's bed.

Niylah offered, "I'll back up your story, if you'd like."

Monroe nodded to her. "Thanks."

Next to them, in the bed, Clarke was facing the wall, her back to both Monroe and Niylah. Because her back was to them, they didn't see that her eyes were open. And that she had a small smile on her face. She had been listening in on them, since Monroe had come back into the room. She didn't know if Monroe was telling the truth. That she had told Callie to hold back from coming down this early and to meet with them in South America instead. Or if she did, if Monroe actually did it to help or had some other motive. But Monroe sounded convincing enough.

For now.

Clarke decided that she'd go along with this. For now. Until she got a sense that Monroe's motives weren't what the younger girl claimed them to be.

When everyone had gotten ready for the day ahead, all of the guests in their respective rooms came out and entered the hall.

Clarke, feigning tiredness as she clipped on the radio and tidied up her clothing as she walked into the hallway with Monroe and Niylah, checked down the hall at the others, securing her weapons close.

Pascal and Trina were holding hands as they exited their room. Jasper and Monty were talking and laughing as they came out of their guest room. Harper and Fox were doing the same. And to Clarke's surprise, when Wells and Finn came out of their room, Wells looked like he was explaining something to Finn and Finn seemed to be paying attention with rapt interest.

There was the sound of deep, loud footsteps coming closer to them and they all turned in direction of those intimidating sounding footsteps. Clarke frowned as she listened to the footsteps echoing throughout the hallway. That sounded like heels.

Clarke tried not to think too deeply about it. However, the last time she had seen any kind of "conventional" women's fashion on Earth, it had been in Mount Weather. Against Clarke's will, almost, she felt her right hand traveling to the trigger of her gun and wrapped her trigger finger around it. She felt a hand go to her left shoulder and she turned to see Monroe speaking softly. "Clarke," Monroe whispered, "Whatever it is you think is going on here, I'm sure it's fine. So please, can you please let go of the gun?"

Clarke's eyes narrowed and she looked down at the gun that Monroe was talking out. Her mouth dropped when she realized what she had almost done. She released the gun and allowed it to dangle from the strap around her right shoulder and neck. Her hands dropped to her side as she let loose a gasp, stunned by the violence she had almost caused. How could she have almost fired her gun without knowing it?

Unfortunately, Clarke knew the answer.

Trauma. That was the answer.

It might as well have been tattooed in giant, bright neon red letters across her face.

"TRAUMATIZED."

Clarke fought down the bile in her throat at the realization.

Clarke felt a word spring from her lips before she could stop it. "Sorry." She whispered to Monroe, not sure which she believed more-that she had apologized after giving up on everybody and rightfully so, or because she had lost control like that just now and had almost shot someone without being attacked first or without getting rid of an obstacle.

Monroe shook her head. "It's alright." She promised. "We're all alright. Just want to make sure you're alright too."

"Yeah, sure," Clarke lied, feeling more and more tense as she kept hearing those heels coming closer and closer. "I'm fine."

Clarke ignored the stare that she was getting from Monroe that just screamed, 'why do I not believe you?'

Then a figure entered the hallway and everyone, including Clarke and Monroe, looked at her.

To their shock, an extremely striking, albeit, intimidating woman, just entered the hall.

She was tall, statuesque, white, with long, bright and luscious orange hair and a strange dark blue tattoo over her right eye. The woman was wearing a tight form-fitting leotard, black on the legs and the upper torso area, bright red. Her shoulders were clasped in dark gold colored metal pads, connected, with a pale blue-green crescent shape, with the curve aimed down toward the woman's cleavage. She had red arm guards from the top of her hands, to her elbows.

"Whoa, hello." Pascal almost whispered, earning a glare from Trina.

All three Jasper, Finn and Monty gawked. As did Harper, Fox and Clarke as well.

Monroe glanced at Clarke. She herself was a little startled by this new person's appearance. She had thought that this tribe had already offered the strangest that they could offer with "Demona," her and her lover and fellow queen, "Elisa's" immortality, as well as the whole "gargoyle" thing. But no, Monroe almost knew immediately, as soon as she saw this woman, she knew they were in the presence of something strange again. She didn't know what. But something obviously strange.

She did, however, wanted to know what Clarke's opinion of this new woman was.

Clarke tilted her head slightly, fascinated. While Monroe knew for a fact that Clarke was bisexual. Was attracted to both men and women, and knew that Clarke had been in relationships with both boys and with girls. Knew that Clarke had been in a relationship with both Lexa and Anya. And then there was the case of her sleeping with Niylah-albeit only for some sort of way of blanking out the horrors that she had been forced to commit. So being in a relationship with older women, was nothing to her.

Yet, Monroe didn't see any lust or desire in Clarke's eyes. Interest, yes. But desire? No, nothing like that.

Clarke looked like she was curious about this woman and what was more, like she wanted to know what this woman was like. But again, this didn't seem to be anything like any romantic interest.

It was odd. Monroe couldn't say she could mentally pin it down.

"Yes?" Clarke asked at last. "Hello? Ms.?"

The redhead turned to Clarke, slim, fiery eyebrows lifting.

"Hello," The woman said, voice sultry almost. "My name is Fox. I believe my wives, Elisa and Demona have told you already about me."

"Hello, queen Fox," Clarke nodded to the woman, "An honor to meet you, as well as an honor to meet your wives. Is there anything we can do for you?"

Monroe fought a grimace. How quickly Clarke recovered from her near "episode," was troubling. For lack of better terms.

Fox either didn't care if Clarke had problems or didn't notice or was pretending to either not care or not to notice when she spoke next, "I would like to take you to your breakfast. My wife, Elisa and I have something to tell you."

Monroe and the others agreed. Monroe understood why Demona hadn't been mentioned in that statement. Demona was a gargoyle. Gargoyles turned to stone during the day. At least, that had been what they had been told last night.

So Demona would be taking a "stone nap" right now. She wouldn't be awake until tonight.

Monroe supposed she understood it. But it sounded like a rotten deal if one was in a relationship with two humans, who often were known to sleep at night. Didn't sound like you'd get to have much of a relationship with someone when they slept during the night and you slept during the day.

Fox turned and went down the hall, Clarke, Monroe, Niylah, Wells and Finn and the others followed after her.

They went through the many different halls with the many guards watching over the safety of said halls. The ornate designs that had been deliberately put there by the owners of the theme park making it look all the more like the "Haunted Mansion" it was supposed to represent.

Red satin chairs, gold carpets with black swirls on them in the shapes of feathers, or zigzags, black and white framed photos in countless numbers along the walls, small lamps with lampshades that looked like they had been made specifically for a kind of disturbing mansion, with tassels and an eerie glowing orange tint. All of it looked very convincing.

Very obviously effort had been put into this ride and apparently, the Grounder tribe of this area had acknowledged that effort enough to not change much. At least, not in this part of the ride area.

They discovered that not much else had been changed in this ride, when they came to what was obviously supposed to be the Haunted Mansion's dining room. A long, rectangular, wooden table with many, many plates full of food, and chairs surrounding that table greeted them. The room they had entered was quite large. The dining table barely took up any of the room. When this place had been called the Haunted Mansion, they had really meant the "Mansion" part, as well as the Haunted part. This room with the dining table barely taking up any room obviously signified belonging to some fictional character made up for this specific ride who was fantastically wealthy and therefore, could afford such a room and many other big, wide rooms.

Elisa sat at the head of the table and Fox went over and sat down in the vacant seat next to her. There were several guards flanking the table, all armed, of course. There were only four other individuals at the table. All of them human, from what the guests of this place could tell. There were several other vacant seats present, and Elisa nodded to those chairs, "You can sit down if you want."

Hesitant only for a few seconds, first Clarke, then Wells and Pascal, then Niylah and Monroe, then everyone else, sat down onto their chairs. Clarke sat closest to Fox and Elisa. When the guards tensed at that, Fox held up a hand, staying them from interfering. Niylah sat right next to Clarke, putting a barrier between Fox and Clarke. And Monroe sat down on Clarke's other side. Clarke tried not to laugh when she noticed this. She half wondered if they were protecting her from the queens and the queens' guards, or them from her. Or both, perhaps.

Wells sat across from Clarke. Finn sat down next to Wells. Jasper and Monty sat down next to each other, next to Finn. Harper and Fox sat down next to Monroe. And Pascal and Trina sat across from each other.

Fox turned to them and said softly, "Elisa has just told me that we will be providing ships to you and give all of you whatever you need if you decide to leave and head for South America."

Clarke tilted her head at that. "If you decide to leave." That was a very strange thing to say. Thankfully, Clarke wasn't the only one to think this, as Pascal asked, curious, "'if we decide to stay?' What do yah mean? We decided to head off to South America, remember? Your majesty?"

The last thing Pascal said was stated in a cough, obviously temporarily forgetting for a moment to give Fox her respectable title.

"Oh, I remember." Fox assured Pascal, her visage never changing, "But we also made preparations if you and your people would like to stay."

There was a silence in the room, then Clarke, to the surprise of everyone in Clarke and Wells's group, surprise and surprise that soon turned to unease, burst out laughing. Her laughter was raucous. Thundering. It reached the glass skyline above the table. The guards and the other guests at the table cocked their heads at her.

Clarke then slowly turned her head to Fox and Elisa, grinning a rather troubling grin. "Stay? You want us to stay, huh?" She asked. "And what reason do you want us to stay for? Did someone tell you to? Like the Commander?"

Fox and Elisa both looked slightly startled at this proclamation. Elisa shook her head. "No." She answered, "No one told us to do that. Much less the Commander herself. I'm not sure why you think the Commander had anything to do with our decision. We just decided it would be the right thing to do."

"No offense, your majesty," Clarke said, leaning back in her chair and eyeing the dark-haired queen, "But almost no one does anything because it's 'the right thing to do.' And I'm sorry, but my people and I can't afford to be that trusting. We're an endangered people, you know."

There was the sound of a door creaking open, then the sound of that very door closing, and someone came in, walking on high heels clapping against the stone floor as a low and deep, controlled voice entered the room, "My, my, young lady," The voice said, catching everyone's attention, "You really are a suspicious one, aren't you? Not that I can blame you. There are really so many untrustworthy humans in the world. There really are."

Clarke and the others raised their heads to see a tall, intimidating looking woman, with long, dark red hair tied back and combed professionally, long, dark red in a long ponytail. Her intense, hard green eyes surveyed her guests as she stepped closer into the room, her body clasped in a dark red garments, silk looking from what Clarke could tell. As the woman approached on dark red high heels, she looked to Clarke in particular and Monroe shifted closer to Clarke protectively. Wells tensed across from Clarke, looking ready to leap across the table to protect Clarke from this woman.

The woman looked down at Clarke and started talking again, voice firm, so firm that Clarke's eyes widened in recognition of the voice, but said nothing as she listened to the older woman. The new redhead said, "I understand why no one would trust anyone they just met. Especially if that someone was a human."

Two things occurred in that moment. At the exact same time, though neither of the recipients of these occurrences realized that the other was experiencing it.

Clarke listened to this woman's voice, looked at her face, at the intensity and conviction of her eyes and the way she posed herself. Not to mention the red hair and the body structure. Clarke felt an inkling in the back of her mind and as soon as this woman went off about "humans," she knew she was right. Magic existed, right? So then, what was keeping that gargoyle lady, "Demona," who according to Niylah, could use magic, from turning into a human during the day?

It hit Clarke then as she looked at this woman's face, really looked at it. This woman was Demona. Of that, Clarke was sure.

However, Clarke was fine with pretending she didn't know. These people wanted to believe that they had an advantage? Let them. She wasn't going to risk their chances of getting away.

At the exact same time, Demona experienced something in that moment that she never thought she'd experience.

She stared into this woman's eyes and had to restrain herself from gasping. Looking at this young woman's eyes, Demona saw someone she knew looking back at her, even though she knew she had never met this woman before in her life. She saw a kindred spirit. Someone who had had her trust broken. Over and over and over again. She saw someone who was so sick of betrayal, that she would hurt anyone who even tried to gain her trust again. Because why not? Because why should she not hurt everyone that had betrayed her and those who had not, when so little of her trust was taken seriously? When it was so mishandled?

This young woman-this girl, really, was just like her.

Human, yes. But like her.

Demona could see the vulnerability, though she was sure that Clarke was trying to hide it. She could see the pain. The anger. The hopelessness. The hatred. The fear. The exhaustion. Oh, goodness. The exhaustion. Just so tired of all the deception and betrayal.

Wondering if there was anyone who was to be trusted in this world.

And she had most likely already decided that very few people could be trusted. And it was unlikely that she had extended her trust that much.

Demona then felt a strange surge in her chest. Warmth. A specific type of warmth. One she had first felt long, long ago when she had met her biological daughter, Angela, face to face in Paris. One that she felt whenever she looked at Angela's hatchlings-Angela and her mate, Vincent's children. One that she felt whenever she looked upon Angela's descendants-one of her descendants.

Affection. Maternal affection.

Demona blinked, barely able to contain her shock. Maternal affection…no…how? She had just met this girl. And this girl was a human, for goodness sake.

But her common sense, or perhaps the opposite of her common sense, demanded she think about it another way. Elisa and Fox were both human. Well, Elisa was human. Fox was half human. Half…something else. And yet, Demona was in love with them. Deeply and utterly. Goliath and that traitorous slime, Thailog were far behind her.

And it so by that fact, was it too strange to assume that she could also theoretically, come to love someone who was human, but worthy enough to be her child? Demona tried to ignore the way her heart went up in her throat as she absorbed this girl's vulnerability and pain. She couldn't possibly offer to take this girl in as her daughter, could she? The girl was almost an adult. Well, that wasn't too odd. In this new world full of different tribes, many adults often almost adults-even those as close to the age of twenty-three could be taken in by an adopted parent, if that person became enough like a son or daughter of the parent. But that wasn't the only issue.

This girl was a part of an entirely different group of people. For all Demona knew, this girl had parents. However, if she did, it was very unlikely that these parents treated this girl well or cared about her enough to learn about all this girl had gone through. Then there was the fact that this girl had a mission in mind. It was obvious in everything this girl did. Which meant that she wouldn't abandon that mission anytime soon. Demona then decided that that was even further reason to see if they could get this new people to stay.

"And you'd know, how?" Clarke asked, startling Demona.

Demona tilted her head. She at first, wasn't sure what this girl was talking about. Then she remembered what she had just said about human beings and she chuckled, smiling, "Quite simple. I've had a few experiences like that, myself."

That was one way of her putting it. But she knew now that the story was a little more complicated than that. But she certainly had believed it to be that way at the time.

She could acknowledge now, how much of a fool she had been. But there was no point in pondering over that.

The blonde-haired teenager gave a cold smile to Demona. "Sure you have. Sure." Demona had heard enough sarcasm in her very, very long life to be able to recognize it. She also realized that the girl was probably right to a certain extent.

After all, for all the betrayals that Demona had experienced, she knew now that she had committed her own various betrayals.

Demona suspected that whatever betrayal this girl had committed, if any, absolutely dwarfed all the constant betrayals she had experienced.

Demona then nodded to the girl, "May I ask your name, girl?"

If she was going to take this girl in, she knew she'd need to know the designated child's name, didn't she?

Though Clarke had a feeling that they should know all their names by now, since the Grounders weren't known for respecting privacy, she answered without hesitation. "Clarke." She answered, "Clarke Griffin." Though these people had done nothing to her yet, some horrible, diseased part of her hoped that the Commander discovered that this tribe had had access to a potentially enemy people and had let that enemy people go. She hoped it ended in war between tribes. How fucking delicious would that be? Clarke, as soon as she realized the thought she had just processed, squished it under her common sense. Right now was not the time to think about 'what if.' Right now was the time to think about getting all of her people to South America. She could fantasize about the tribes killing each other violently later.

"Clarke Griffin," Demona repeated the name, nodding to her. She mentally rolled the name around. Clarke. Clarke. The name of her second child, her human child was Clarke. She would remember that.

Feigning interest, if only to be convincing in this girl's eyes, Demona turned to the other occupants at the table who had arrived with Clarke. "And the rest of your companions?" She asked, not really caring.

The girl next to Clarke to Clarke's right, waved her hand. "Name's Monroe." She answered. "Prefer using my last name."

Demona nodded, turning to the others. The other woman next to Clarke answered, "Niylah kom Trikru."

The others introduced themselves as Wells, Finn, Harper, Fox, Jasper, Monty, Pascal and Trina.

It was odd for Demona to absorb. Because she realized something. All of these individuals, except for Niylah, appeared to be from this "other people." Niylah had outright said that she was of the Trikru tribe. Perhaps she was being paid as a guide to these newcomers?

"A pleasure to meet all of you," Demona said, saying what she needed to. "My name is Dominique Destine. I am one of the queen's secretaries and speak for them when they are too busy to do it themselves."

Clarke almost snorted. Almost. 'Dominique Destine?' Really? Demona couldn't come up with anything less obvious than that? Centuries old, and that was ALL she could come up with? What a joke. But Clarke nonetheless held her tongue. She needed to get these stupid people to believe that she was as dumb as they thought her to be. If they thought her fooled, well then, why should she stop their arrogant ignorance?

Anything that worked in her own favor, Clarke sure as fuck wasn't going to stop it.

"Uh-nice to meet you, Ms. Destine." Wells said, naturally as polite as always.

"Dominique Destine" nodded to Wells. "Thank you," She said, "It's nice to meet you, as well. I imagine you have many questions. And as my queens suggested, you might want to think about staying here. You wouldn't have to go to new land to find a home. You could just stay here, if you like."

Clarke turned to look at her and her eyebrows narrowed. "I'm sorry," She said, "But why exactly do you want us to stay?"

Dominique turned her head, cocking it at Clarke. "Why would we not want you to?" She asked. "There is such a thing as kindness, you know. And has it occurred to you that we benefit from this? And that we would have another army with your people here?"

Clarke frowned. That kind of made sense. Having as many people that were on the Ark, would be a good army. Granted, the majority of the Ark was made up of farmers, water recyclers, doctors and so on. But all their resources were useful. So she supposed she understood. "I get that," She answered, "But I think it's really best if we leave for South America. I'm sorry, but I've taken history classes. I know that's an odd thing to say. But I've studied these kinds of situations before. Two different cultures meeting? They rarely end well." She added to placate both the two queens and the woman pretending not to be the third queen, "Not that I'm saying your people would do anything harmful on purpose. It's just that misunderstandings tend to happen with different cultures meeting. So I think for the sake of both our peoples? We should leave and head for South America as soon as we can. But thank you for the offer, anyway, Ms. Destine."

Demona raised her eyebrows. Clarke was naïve if she thought that Demona bought that. There was obviously more going on here than just that.

Demona didn't know this girl. But she knew her well enough to know that this girl had gone through more than she was letting on. There was a reason why she didn't trust and Demona knew it.

"Alright." Demona said, smiling, "I'm sure we can accommodate you in the meantime," She would in the meantime, work to convince Clarke that she would be safe here during that period. "I understand. And thank you for being as considerate as that. However, I assure you that our people can be trusted." She then met Clarke's eyes, "But then, I have the feeling you've heard that before and you haven't had any proof of the sincerity of those promises, have you?"

Clarke stiffened as soon as Demona had said that, confirming Demona's suspicions. Clarke had a history with being backstabbed. She wouldn't admit to it. But obviously, she had been betrayed multiple times.

Demona didn't know the context, but Clarke had clearly experienced more betrayals than was healthy for anyone.

And she had suffered for it and had hardened herself severely as a result.

"What do you mean?" Clarke asked, voice layered in warning and Demona watched as both Monroe and Niylah got closer to Clarke and each of them laid a hand on Clarke's arms.

Demona fought a smirk. It was very apparent that Clarke had shown violent behavior as a result of her trauma. Because of that, Monroe and Niylah had had to be careful with her. From the looks of it.

So then Demona knew she had to be careful with her too.

"What I mean is," Demona said, looking down at Clarke challengingly, "You seem like you have been through a lot. It looks like you have good reasons not to be trusting. I won't assume to know what it is you went through. But I think it's safe to say that you've been through a lot. My apologies for your hardships. However, we'll provide you with proof of how safe it is here. If you'd like."

Clarke glowered. Anger rushed to the front of her mind. Endless smiling faces. Endless promises of safety flashed before her. All lies. Every last one of them lies. Endless backstabbing actions and empty promises. Dante Wallace's smiling, lying face. Abby Griffin's lying face. The Commander, Lexa's lying face. Kane's lying face. Anya's lying face. Bellamy's lying face. Murphy's lying face. Thelonius Jaha's lying face. Jasper's lying face. ALL of them. Lying!

Clarke tensed, and Monroe and Niylah both grabbed her tightly. "Clarke, please." Monroe pleaded.

Clarke wasn't listening. Her skin burned with her anger.

How the fuck dare this woman presume to know what she had gone through? How dare she feed her empty promises like everyone else had?

"Know me that well, huh?" Clarke asked, voice layered in frozen ice. "Then tell me, smartass, who was the first person that betrayed me?"

To Clarke's chagrin, Demona, or as she foolishly believed she was coming off as, "Dominique," just smiled sadly.

"I'm not psychic, Ms. Griffin," Demona assured her. "I don't know the specifics. But I know you've been through a lot. You've been through enough, I'd argue."

Demona then said gently, "I'm not presuming to know you. I'm just stating an observation. That's all. But if you and your people want to leave? We will get the ships ready as soon as possible."

Clarke nodded and said nothing after that. But Demona could practically hear the girl's mental statement even though the girl didn't say a word. What the girl most likely thought to herself most likely was, 'Yeah, I've heard that one before, haven't I?'

"Thank you." Clarke said, but her voice sounded strained.

Demona nodded to her. "You are very welcome." She answered, "Now then, if you'll all excuse me," She bowed to both queen Fox and queen Elisa, a theoretical action that would further convince any onlookers that Dominique and Demona were not in fact the same person-an action that Clarke mentally applauded, even though she was fooled by nothing else, "I will be off now. And leave all of you to your breakfast."

Demona sent one last look to Clarke who eyed her again, and Demona hoped she had relayed a meaningful message as she exited the room. She caught her wives' eyes as she left and she knew that both Fox and Elisa knew that there was something wrong. They knew that Demona had just experienced something strange, though they couldn't tell what that particular something was.

Demona exited the room and went to the back hallway, taking a moment to take a breath. This…this was a very unexpected development. She had never thought she'd meet someone like that, so vulnerable, so desperate for mental peace, so desperate-so like her.

She sighed. She had learned a long time ago that just because she had gone through something, something traumatic and harmful, didn't mean that any of those who were in her care needed to go through the same thing. It had taken her a long time to realize that, but she had eventually.

The rest of the world of the tribes didn't understand this important fact. All the other tribes taught their children to go through the exact thing they went through. To harden them. To make them "strong." It was one of the reasons why tribes like the Floukru, the Luwoda and the Yujleda were considered oddities. They were almost kindly to those who relied upon the strong in their tribes.

And this Clarke? She had already been through enough. Demona would not allow her to go through anymore.

Not as long as she could help it.

In the main room where "Dominique Destine" had left them, the others turned back to the table.

"Clarke," Wells said, looking to Clarke worried, "Are you okay?"

Clarke scoffed, snickering. "Take a wild guess, Wells. No. I'm not. But since when has that made a difference to anyone outside of you?" She shook her head and grumbled, "Sorry. I'm sorry, Wells. I'm just not in a good mindset right now."

Wells nodded. "Okay." He said, voice caring and gentle. "It's alright."

Clarke fought a laugh. No, it wasn't alright. Not in any sense of the word. But Wells really didn't fully understand the gravity of the situation. Sure, Monroe had told him everything. But being told something and experiencing it were very different, weren't they?

"Whatever," Clarke grumbled, turning her attention to her respective plate full of food, "I'm hungry."

She grabbed up a fork and knife, cutting at the meat in front of her on her plate.

Around her, the tense other group members in Clarke's number eventually relaxed. The danger that had been so alive during Clarke and Dominique Destine's encounter was now gone. For the present moment. They went to working on their own food, though Wells and Finn both still looked at Clarke, troubled. Monroe and Niylah stayed almost uncomfortably close to her in case they needed to restrain her.

As Pascal and Trina ate, Pascal eyed Clarke. Alright. It was official. He needed to know what the hell was going on here. Clarke had serious issues. That was obvious. And that other woman, Ms. Destine, she had talked about betrayal? What kind of betrayal? The way Clarke had reacted seemed to indicate that Destine's assessment was correct. That Clarke had been betrayed. More than once. Enough times that it had made Clarke completely distrustive of everyone around her. Which would explain a lot.

But what kind of betrayals had there been? How many? And why?

As Pascal stuffed his face full of herb roasted chicken, not believing how good the food was, he knew that everything he had been told about when he was a kid, that he was too curious for his own good, was true. If there was a hole in the ground where he heard some growling in it, he'd most likely stick his hand into it, just to see what it was that was growling in there. If there was a dark closet where he heard a spooky voice, he'd probably go into the creepy closet, wanting to see who or what was whispering to him.

And here he was, facing off with the possibility of trying to get answers from someone who was gruffer and more fierce than even a snarling timber wolf.

But still, Pascal knew he needed to know. Not just because he wanted to feel safe in Clarke's hands-because he knew he was. Something about her told him that as long as he didn't try to jeopardize the possibility of their people coming down and getting to South America safely, he was in no danger with her. But that wasn't the reason why. No, he wanted to know because he couldn't understand how someone as protective of her people as Clarke was, could at the same time be so distrustful and angry.

How could someone who had been the daughter of the top engineer and the top medic and the best friend of Wells Jaha, possibly be so bitter and ornery? It felt like a contradiction that just didn't fit.

What exactly had happened here that he wasn't getting? That all of them, except seemingly Clarke, Monroe, Niylah, Wells and possibly Dominique Destine, not getting?

Pascal knew that he was tempting fate by deciding this. But he decided he'd find out. He'd ask. He would find out. If it meant that it stopped driving him crazy with these questioning thoughts.

At the other end of the table, queen Elisa and queen Fox ate, sending glances to each other. That was an interesting thing they had just witnessed.

What kind of person could get that kind of reaction from their wife and fellow queen. Demona, or as she called herself in her human form, Dominique Destine, was not easily spooked. But the way that they had seen their wife's physical movements, they knew that she had been spooked. Or something like that.

Elisa looked at Clarke was ripping the grilled cheese sandwich apart in her grasp. This girl had gotten that reaction from Demona. Why? Elisa thought about what her wife had said to Clarke. About being betrayed. She smiled sadly. Ah. Maybe that was why. Elisa might not know Clarke's life story, but perhaps Demona could take a guess.

Elisa glanced to Fox who rested her left elbow against the wooden table, balancing her head on her left fist. There were many of Fox's descendants here. Fox's son, Alexander, had died ages ago. It had hurt Fox. As much as Angela's death had hurt Demona. But they had let Alexander and Angela's souls move on to the next world. Whatever that was. And Alexander Xanatos's own descendants as well as Angela's were here in this tribe. That was enough for all three Fox, Elisa and Demona.

However, Fox tilted her head to Clarke and had a suspicion she knew what it was that Demona had seen. There was something angry but also pained and vulnerable. Perhaps Demona had seen what Fox suspected she was seeing now. A wounded and desperate child in an almost full-grown woman's body.

Fox smiled, turning to Elisa and whispered to her wife, "I think Demona and I have something to tell you when we get the chance."

Elisa tilted her right eyebrow up. But she trusted both Fox and Demona enough to know when to take their words seriously. She would talk with them later.

Back on the Ark, Callie Cartwig had done as this "Zoe Monroe" had asked. She had ordered the pilots to not drive the Ark to Florida. They would wait. For now. Callie frowned. She didn't know what this Monroe had to do with anything. She wanted to trust Monroe. The story that Monroe had given her, about Clarke and Wells breaking into the pantry and stealing some dessert rations was convincing. But Callie didn't know for sure. She hoped that Monroe could be trusted.

And Monroe claimed that she would hear from Clarke and Wells soon enough. She wanted to believe that. But she didn't know yet, did she?

Either way, there was nothing she could do about that, just yet, was there?

So then, what could she do? What difference could she make? She knew the answer already. She had no way of proving that she was trustworthy to Monroe and she had no way of finding if Monroe was trustworthy or not. But Callie could put safeguards in with her former friend, Abby.

Abby was biologically Clarke's mother. But so what? Thelonius Jaha was Wells's biological father, and he had been garbage. He had hurt Wells. And Clarke. So he had had no worth and she felt nothing over killing him.

And so, just because Abby Griffin was Clarke's biological mother, meant nothing. Abby had betrayed Clarke. Had gotten the girl's father executed. Had let Wells take the blame. And because she had told Thelonius Jaha about what Clarke had known, she had gotten Clarke sent down to the ground, where she could have been killed by a toxic radiation covered ground, killed by "Grounders," or assaulted by one of the other criminals Clarke and Wells had been sent down with. And on top of everything else, Abby had let Wells get sent down too.

So no, Abby had no place in Clarke's life. That, Callie could decide on her own. And the other woman had no place in Wells's life, for that matter.

Callie wasn't going to kill Abby. Abby hadn't done enough to earn murder. Not yet, anyway.

But she would put some precautions in place when it came to Abby. She needed to have Abby at a disadvantage. There was room to argue that Callie already had a big advantage over Abby. After all, Callie was the new chancellor and Abby was still just the top medic. Not that much weight in the council. However, there was something that Callie could do and she knew that.

She prepared herself. She knew that there were cameras in the medic bay area. She would take advantage.

She would keep Clarke and Wells safe. No matter.

Back on the ground, on the edge of what had at one time been Disneyworld, now fully fed, Clarke, Monroe, Niylah, Wells and the others were being bugged endlessly by Jasper, Harper and Fox all were asking desperately to go into one of the ride areas. Besides the Haunted Mansion.

Clarke had almost thrown her hands up as she asked for permission from the currently present queens, queen Elisa and queen Fox if they could explore the kingdom and they had all been granted permission, so long as none of them wandered outside of the premises.

Clarke and the others agreed and they began to walk off, Clarke giving a few dark warnings to Jasper and the others that if they messed with anything, she'd kick their asses and everyone believed her.

As they wandered off, a few guards going with them as they went past some buildings with the stone figures of the sleeping gargoyles along the roofs, queen Elisa and queen Fox went back to the Haunted Mansion. Elisa turned to Fox. "We need to talk with Demona." She said.

Fox nodded. She had a feeling. "Yes," She agreed, "We do.

Note: So shit's going to collide with the fan hard soon enough. Just not yet.