The morning sun's light was golden. Across the clearing sat Arkadia, its structure weathered to the years, reinforced by wood slats and beams, scrap metal that had been salvaged years earlier.

Athena stood at the tree line as she looked out over what had become of the lands. Arkadia was now just as much a bustling village as any of the others that dotted the forests this deep into Trikru lands. People would come and go as they pleased, trade and barter for goods, even seek help only Skaikru tech and knowledge could offer. It had all been by design, though not without its dangers, its problems and issues over the years.

But those headaches had come and gone, just as so many others had.

And so Athena took in a deep breath, she held it for a long while and she smiled at a bird she saw flit and flutter upon the wind. It would be a hot day, she thought. The sun's heat already enough to prickle her skin in the morning. But there was a promise of a change of seasons on the horizon. She knew it from the wind that blew, she knew it from the position of the sun.

Axios stood by her side, his arms crossed over his chest. Athena didn't need to look at him to know the man eyeing a clumsy second who tried to tame a far too large horse. Athena knew the task to much for the youngster, but she knew that by design, perhaps to test their mettle, their determination, their patience. But she didn't look too long, didn't let it distract her too far from the thoughts she needed to organise and make sense of on her own.

She still hadn't told Abby why she was needed. Only that she was. Part of her considered keeping it a secret until the revelation itself. Perhaps Abby wouldn't even recognise Alexandria. But Athena didn't think that would be the be the case.

"A new season comes soon," Axios said quietly, his voice just barely heard over the rustling of the trees.

"Yes," Athena nodded her head as she looked away from the young second and to a group of people in the midsts of erecting some kind of structure.

"Perhaps the winter will be cooler than last," Axios continued, and Athena knew him aware enough to know her distracted, frustrated by her thoughts.

Maybe she'd let his words distract her for a moment. Wouldn't it be nice not to think about such tumultuous things for even a moment?

"Perhaps I will visit Azgeda this winter," she smiled at an old memory formed years ago.

"King Roan would welcome your visit, even if it were only for a week or two," Axios answered.

"Perhaps we should attempt one of their great hunts, Axios," it was such moments that Athena could pretend she was simply a warrior amongst warriors, someone not meant to lead her people into a new age.

"I am sure King Roan would accompany us," though Athena knew Axios merely jesting, she could tell him more than willing to actually accompany her on such an adventure.

"Perhaps we will some day, Axios," Athena said and she looked over her shoulder at Axios to find a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

But movement from Arkadia broke their moment of levity. Athena turned back to find a figure stepping out of the main gates, a large bag slung over a shoulder, another held across their chest.

And so it didn't take Abby long before she came to a stop before them. Athena appreciated the simple fact that Abby hadn't asked too many questions, hadn't really pried more than to determine how many changes of clothes she'd need. There was a certain level of discretion Athena wished to maintain until they were deeper into the forests, further away from those who need not know.

Axios stepped forward and reached for the bag in Abby's arms. Athena remained quiet throughout the exchange, her mind still not so certain of how best to bring up the topic at hand. At least watching as Axios tied the bags to one of their many horses gave her time to think and to settle on how best to proceed, at least in the next few days of their journey.

There were other warriors behind Athena, too. All of them handpicked for her personal retinue, each one sworn to secrecy, their families to be cared for until the end of time should the need arise. Athena would have it no other way. Not when their journey to the homestead could cause those more curious of her whereabouts to get ideas, notions of following, attacking for some foolish reason.

"So," Abby's voice said quietly and Athena looked towards her to find that she had pulled herself atop one of the horses. "You still haven't told me where we're going, Commander," it wasn't said unkindly, rudely, with any judgment. Athena could hear the hints of confusion still, but there was curiosity in Abby's tone.

"It is complicated," it was the closest thing to the truth Athena could think of for the time being. "I will explain more in time."

And with that Athena pulled herself onto her own horse, she clicked her tongue and she let thoughts begin to settle onto the journey before her.

It was the early night. The moon slowly rose in the sky, its light enough to bathe the forest in a gentle glow. Athena hadn't entirely meant to take the slight detour she had. But she hadn't tried to fight it either. Perhaps she could be selfish for yet another moment, perhaps it was the last thing she'd be able to do that was solely for herself without repercussion, without regrets.

Before Athena stood Clarke's home. Athena found it odd to stand where she now did. Not because she had never stood in that spot before. But Clarke had always been near, whether by her side as they had walked through the forests while discussing any given thing, or inside the home waiting for her to knock.

But this time it was different. There was no Clarke. There hadn't been for weeks. By all accounts the home could be called abandoned, left to be reclaimed by the forests, by the small animals that skittered underfoot. Yet Athena had quietly asked one of her many handmaidens to care for the home every few days, to walk its perimeter, check on its structure. But never to enter, never to set foot inside. She wouldn't intrude in such a way, even if it was for the best of intentions.

Athena remembered the first time Clarke had told her of the desire to live somewhere peacefully, to have somewhere quiet without the noise of the world, without the noise of people constantly asking for advice. That wish for isolation was something she had longed for in her own times of weakness and she'd never hold it against Clarke.

Athena remembered the first time she had seen the building once it had been completed. She remembered with sad smile the offer to send trusted warriors to help Clarke build it only for the offer to be refused with determined glare. It was odd that there were moments she remembered of Clarke that were her own, it was odd that there were moments she remembered of Clarke that were not her own. And Athena found it so very odd that someone in weeks, months, hopefully years to come, that would remember Clarke. That would remember the things she remembered. Perhaps selfishly Athena hoped she would be the last Commander to know Clarke while living. It was such a funny thought, such a selfish thought, something she didn't know how to voice, how to organise. Perhaps she never would.

It surprised Athena to find that in her wandering thoughts she had walked the few paces to the stable that River once occupied. She remembered choosing River specifically for Clarke. She thought River stubborn and strong headed enough to give Clarke the company she would need in her isolation. And now River, that like Clarke, was gone.

Athena took in a deep breath, perhaps in an attempt to force whatever scents lingered to trigger an old memory, perhaps to simply clear her mind.

Whatever the reason she didn't think it worked. She thought she knew why.

"You are sad, Athena," her voice was quiet in her mind, her presence felt in the core of her soul.

"Is it that obvious?" Athena asked as she turned from the stables to find Lexa standing behind her.

"Perhaps to me," Lexa said quietly. "To those of us who call you family and friend."

"I did not think it would hurt this much, Lexa," Athena said, her voice just as quiet as Lexa's in the night.

And what Athena said was true. She had never anticipated feeling the ache in her chest that she now felt. She had never anticipated knowing what bitterness and longing and loss would have felt like in such times.

"Why?" Lexa asked.

"Is it not trivial to feel sorrow over things so small, so unimportant as a home built years ago? It is not even mine."

"No," Lexa shook her head. "I do not think so."

Athena felt her brow furrow, perhaps because she didn't know what else she could do, perhaps because she felt frustrated at herself more than anything.

"Why are you here, Lexa?" Athena asked as she began to walk, her steps slow, her need to move the only distraction she could think of in the moment. "Was it your decision or did they think you best able to turn me back from the precipice?"

"Am I not allowed to make my own decisions?" Lexa challenged. "Perhaps I am the one who wished to speak with you."

There was a spark of anger, not entirely directed at Lexa, not entirely not.

"I—" Athena stopped as she kicked at a lonely stick in her way.

She watched as the stick bounced and rolled across the clearing until it came to a stop somewhere in the distance.

She took her time to settle her emotions lest she say something she regret. It wasn't fair. She had decided that long ago. It wasn't fair that she blame others for the things she felt, not when she hadn't even tried to shy away from them. Though secretly she didn't really blame herself for being unable to shy away from a past she had no role in.

"Sorry," Athena said as she turned back to find Lexa looking at her.

Lexa answered with a sad smile before she inclined her head towards Clarke's home, to the bench that stood under the home's awning.

Athena didn't say another word until she sat, her legs stretched out in front of her, the position a little less dignified than it should. But she didn't care. No one else was to know.

"I know why you are here," Athena said eventually, her gaze not willing to meet Lexa's.

"Do you?" Lexa's voice was kind, the understanding in it at times too much for Athena to take.

"Yes," Athena didn't mean for her voice to crack at the edges as she looked up into the night's sky. "I do."

"Do you wish to talk?"

It was such a simple offering, something Athena could accept and she knew there would be no judgment, no hostility or mocking.

"I feel—" Athena paused and she blinked back the wetness that threatened to blur her vision. "I am hurt," she said quietly. "More than I thought I would be."

It didn't surprise Athena that Lexa didn't say anything. But it surprised her to feel her hand be squeezed, the motion firm, soft, kind. Maybe that was all she needed in that moment. Something to give her a sign that she wasn't alone, that she wasn't so foolish, so destitute of understanding in a sea of uncertainty.

"I do not blame Clarke," Athena said when she was sure her voice would be steady, "I never would. I never could," Athena paused to take in a steadying breath. "I just—" she paused, if only because she thought it would sound so childish, so immature to voice what her thoughts were. "I know I am doing the right thing," Athena said, the words she spoke not the ones she had intended to say. But she knew it truthful. "I wish I was given the training to know how to separate the spirit's memories from my own," she said eventually.

"You think it would be easier?" Lexa said, her voice a little firmer than it had been before.

"How could it not?"

Athena didn't really know what to say. Part of her didn't really know how to make sense of the challenge Lexa had offered. Perhaps it didn't matter though. She smiled something bittersweet as a thought, a phrase, something intangible came to mind.

It wasn't really sudden, and Athena didn't even know how long she sat on the bench as she looked out into the darkening of the forest and the night. But as time went by, as she took in breath and exhaled she thought it funny that if anyone were to stumble upon the scene before them they would see nothing but a lonely woman sitting outside an empty house talking to no one but the night.

And wasn't that fitting, Athena thought?

Her life was lonely. Her memories not really hers, her emotions and the regrets, her love and her hurt were hers to have alone, without anyone else to carry the bur—

No, Athena.

Her voice was quiet in her mind.

You're not alone.

Athena spent hours sitting outside Clarke's empty home. Enough time that she had been able to order her thoughts into something less disorganised.

Perhaps the proximity to something of Clarke's was enough for her to feel comforted in her time of weakness. Or maybe it had just given her the opportunity to voice her worries into the night. If anything it should have been healthier than letting her thoughts fester in her mind like an open wound. But Athena had overstayed her welcome, she had kept Axios waiting not far away for too.

And so she had begun to return to the small camp that had been set up for the night, her intention to get a little sleep before the next day's journey. But something yet again had distracted her. And this time she knew herself fully to blame.

A small trading post sat proudly in a clearing and memories of Clarke telling her of a young girl who spoke highly of her, of taking on more and more responsibility seemed to filter into the forefront of her mind.

Athena stood in the shadow of a large tree, her head cocked to the side cautiously as she tried to see signs of someone awake. She wouldn't intrude if they occupants were asleep, that would be far too rude. But she was feeling melancholy, perhaps bittersweet in the solitude of the night and she found herself stepping out from the shadows when she was sure she heard the quiet sounds of someone moving things back and forth inside the building.

Athena looked up into the sky to see the moon still in its place, the steps she took quiet lest she disturb the occupants. Part of her thought it best to turn away, not surprise anyone. And yet for some reason she found herself drawn to the noise. Maybe she wanted to feel closer to things she shouldn't feel close to. Maybe it was because she thought this night the last time she would steal for herself in a very long time.

She stopped, her feet having taken her to the front door, her knuckles poised to knock, her mind for just the barest of moment's thinking she should turn back. There was the sound of feet moving back and forth, at times a quiet grunt as someone - a girl - lifted an object or a basket before putting it down somewhere else. But before Athena could do anything else the door opened a fraction.

A crack of light drifted through the dark as the door was held open a jar. Through it Athena could see rows of shelves full of stocked items ready to be traded. She could see items laid out across the floor clearly being organised — Athena could even see a half eaten meal set aside for a free mome—

"Can I help you?" the voice was careful, guarded, unsure. "It is late and we are not trading until tomorrow."

Athena's gaze snapped down to find a youth eyeing her suspiciously, her eyes squinted in the dark, the slightest sheen of sweat clinging to her forehead.

"I apologise for visiting so late," Athena said quietly, her intention to disrupt the girl's work unintentional. "I am a friend of Clarke's. Are you Petra?"

Suspicion grew on the girl's face for only a moment and Athena could see thoughts beginning to flit back and forth through her mind. But then she saw it. It was funny, she'd admit that much. She saw the realisation, she saw the girl's gaze snap to the red sash that was ever present flowing down her shoulder, she saw the girl's eyes snap back to the small trinket that was always firmly in place on her own forehead and she knew the girl knew.

"He—" the girl's voice cracked, she coughed and she stared, "Heda?"

"Are you Petra?"

"I—" Petra continued to stare at her with stunned disbelief, the fact that she still kept the door almost entirely shut in the Commander's face clearly lost on her. "I—" Petra blinked once, twice, a third time before she seemed to come to her senses. "Yes," she quickly stepped aside, clearly forgot to pull the door open with her and cursed herself before snatching out and pulling it open for her to enter.

Petra was stunned as she stood by the door and stared as Athena stepped into the trading post. Candles still cast their light and danced shadows across every surface, each one clearly having been aflame for hours and long into the night. There was ordered disorder to the mess and Athena could tell Petra had been taking stock, that she had been counting the inventory for the next days and weeks.

"I—" Petra's voice yet again cut into her thoughts and Athena turned to look at the youth to find her quickly darting from pile of things to pile of things in an attempt to neaten what she could. "I apologise for the mess, Heda, I did not know you were coming, I would have prepared a meal, do you want a drink? A seat—" Petra began moving for a chair.

For a split second Athena wondered just how frantic Petra could get. She felt her lips twitch up at the corners, if only because she could see just why Petra's father had seemingly given her so much responsibility.

But Athena thought it best to take pity on the youth.

"Petra," she let her voice turn commanding enough that she knew it would cut into Petra's frantic movements.

The girl stopped in her tracks and looked at her, eyes still wide, lips parted and something between awe and fear, exhilaration and barely contained excitement.

"Where is your father?" Athena asked and she looked around as if searching for the man she had never met.

"He is visiting the Mountain, Heda," Petra said quickly.

"And he left you in charge?" Athena asked as she smiled and began to slowly walk around, her gaze moving from one thing to another as if to inspect what lay before her.

"Yes, Heda," Petra said and her back straightened as she if dared her to question her abilities. "I am currently taking stock of everything we have traded for the week."

"I see," and Athena smiled once more as she picked up a knife from a pile, its point sharp, barely a chip in its cutting edge. "It is late, Petra," Athena said as she put the knife back down and continued her steps "How long have you been doing this?"

There was a pause, and from the slight annoyance on Petra's face Athena could tell it had been long, "All night," the girl seemed disappointed in herself, that much was clear. "We have been very busy this week."

"I see," and Athena came to a stop in front of Petra, close enough that the girl needed to look up at her, eyes ever wide and stunned. "Do you think you will get it finished by tomorrow?"

Petra looked down at the piles on the floor, she seemed to deflate as she took measure of everything left to sort and Athena could almost see her deflate with disappointment. "I will get it done," she didn't seem convinced.

Athena's head cocked to the side and she found herself admiring the girl, perhaps because she seemed resilient, headstrong, confident. Any number of things she could list. But as Athena continued to take her in she found herself thinking it beautiful.

For so long Athena had struggled with the fact that she felt undeserving of what she had come to rule, the peace that had come to settle upon the coalition. But as she took Petra in she found herself smiling. The fact that Petra's father felt comfortable leaving his daughter to care for the trading post was testament to the changes that had come to pass. Once reapers would have descended on any unprotected trading post, years ago no one would have dared leave a child alone. And yet now things had changed. And Athena thought they had changed for the better.

Perhaps that was why she had become Heda. Perhaps nurturing a future where more children like Petra could be given the opportunity to grow without worry of reaper or Mountain Man was what she had been destined to protect. Perhaps that was a worthy task.

"What if you had two people to help you sort through everything?" Athena asked, and for some reason she felt just a little lighter than she had moments ago.

Petra seemed to take her words into account carefully, she seemed to consider them as if they were a trick question.

"Perhaps it father was here it would go faster," Petra said eventually.

"Ah," and Athena let an eyebrow raise as she bent down and picked up an already wrapped pile of what she assumed to be arrows. "Then perhaps, Petra, I will be your help."

Petra remained quiet for a second or two, her young mind clearly trying to find the trick to her statement. But then she smiled. And it was with that smile that a switch seemed to have been flipped. Petra bounded forward, she began to chatter, whatever fatigue that had built up over the already long night quickly forgotten as she began to direct Athena where needed. And through it all Athena found herself happy to indulge the youth, to smile, jest and even share in a story or two when she could.

And maybe the hand Athena had been dealt wasn't so bad. At least not all of it when it came to Petra, and to the many other children who now lived in a world free of violence, reapers and Mountain Men.