Athena sat atop her horse. It was midday, the sun shone down across the lands and in the sky was a cloud or two that drifted with the wind. The journey from Arkadia to the homestead had taken just a little longer than usual, Abby's presence the unspoken reason. That didn't bother Athena, in fact it had given her the time to think over how best she was going to explain the things that Abby would soon be exposed to.

And yet in that moment, as she looked out over the rows and rows of apple trees that stretched out before them, she found herself feeling unsure of just how to put to words the thoughts that had been roiling through her mind for days.

Athena looked to her left at Abby who had pulled up beside her, curiosity clear upon her face as she looked out over the homestead and to the few buildings dotted around the land.

"I'm guessing this is where we're headed?" Abby asked, her voice just a little weary as she rolled her shoulders.

"Yes, Abby," Athena said and she nodded to herself as if to steady her thoughts. "It is a homestead for those who have served their people."

"It's for people who've retired?" Abby asked. "And someone is ill?"

Perhaps the questions were a little rudimentary, but Athena knew Abby worded them such merely to avoid prying too much on a topic she clearly understood to be sensitive in nature.

"Yes," Athena said as she looked back over the homestead and let her gaze take in the lands for a moment or two. She could see a servant, perhaps a horse being guided one way or another through the rows of apple trees. She thought she even spied Brutus flash past in the distance, his size unmistakable even across the distance.

It took a moment longer for Athena's attention to be brought back to what she needed to say. It was odd. As the seconds ticked by she felt her heart beat more fiercely in her chest, she felt the adrenaline beginning to surge and she found it so strange that speaking the truth to Abby made her body react just as it did the countless times she had faced foe with sword in hand.

And just like when she had fought in conflict, she found her breath steadying as she let herself settle and find calm in the moment.

And so Athena spoke, "Abby," she looked back at the woman to find her meeting her gaze with caution and uncertainty. "Before we continue you may turn around right now, leave, we will return to Arkadia and you will not be duty bound to keep this secret."

Athena watched as Abby seemed to accept everything she heard as if she had already come to the realisation of just how high the stakes were. Part of Athena wanted Abby to take the offer to turn away, to leave, to take the decision out of her hands.

But Abby nodded her head just once and smiled something grim and sure.

"No," Abby said. "I understand what you're saying."

A tinge of something flit through Athena's mind before she continued speaking.

"What I am to tell you, and what you are about to see is a secret you will never speak of to anyone unless given direct permission by me, or any other Commander. Is that understood?"

"You have my word, Commander," Abby said, her lips pursed into a grim line as she nodded again.

"Most Commanders die," Athena said as she clicked her tongue to guide their horses forward. "The flame is removed and passed down to their successor," she knew Abby understood enough. "However there is a very rare few that do not die. Their injuries though, are so severe that they would be crippled for life, whether in mind, body or spirit," she looked at Abby who seemed to understand. "The clans would call for their execution and the flame would be forcibly removed and given to the next."

Abby remained silent save for a single hum of acknowledgement, her lack of comment on how different their people's traditions were a well adjusted habit after the years on the ground.

"This person who's sick," Abby said eventually. "They're a former Commander?"

"Yes," Athena answered with a shrug as her horse continued on its way towards the rows and rows of apple trees. "But that is not everything," she said and she looked at Abby again, perhaps to see if the woman had held her nerve, maybe to try and find a hidden thought in the other woman's eyes. "Clarke has been staying here for some time," she said, and though that wasn't the exact thing she needed to reveal, she thought it best to give Abby some kind of warning.

"I'm not surprised," Abby said, "she deserves to retire somewhere safe and away from everything that has happened."

"Yes," Athena nodded to herself because she felt the same. "However there is more," Athena met the gaze of a servant who had been tending to some of the apple trees, the man bowing his head as they approached.

"Ah," Abby's voice seemed a little unsure at that.

Athena looked away again, perhaps to find the will to push forward, perhaps to give herself time to figure out exactly what she needed to say. From the corner of her eye she saw Axios looking out, perhaps because he always searched for danger, perhaps because he didn't want to intrude on a conversation not entirely for him to share in. She didn't mind his presence, she didn't mind his—

No. She needed to focus, needed to stay on topic. It was too late to turn back, too late to tell Abby to forget everything that has happened and that she had seen.

"Former Commanders do not remember their lives," Athena said as she shook those thoughts from her mind.

"I see," Abby said quietly.

"It is best if they are kept unaware of the things they have done in their past lives," Athena continued though she wondered if even that rule would come to pass and fade into the history books.

Abby hummed an understanding at that, and Athena knew the woman simply trying not to pry, to say more than she was allowed to say given the odd circumstances.

There was no turning back, no turning away for Athena.

"There are three former Commanders living here, Abby," she said. "The first is a man called Agamemnon," and she made sure to look Abby in the eyes. "He is who is ill," she said. "Eamon, he is another who has lived here for years," Athena watched as Abby simply nodded her head once more. "You know the last Commander."

It took Abby a moment to realise what she had said, but Athena saw the recognition and surprise before it was pushed back into whatever guarded walls existed inside her head. She knew Abby had questions, so many, in fact that maybe at another point in time she'd answer some of them.

"She goes by Alexandria now," Athena said quietly.

"I—" Abby seemed to pause and to consider everything she had been told. "Is that why Clarke's here?" Abby asked cautiously, that question the one thing she had seemingly allowed herself to voice.

Athena made sure any pain she felt wasn't shown on her face. She didn't need Abby to know her own pains, she didn't need anyone to know.

"In part, yes," Athena answered. "This homestead was built for those who had given everything to their people, for them to exist shielded away from old hurts and pains without worry of responsibility and judgement."

"I understand, Commander," Abby said quietly, and though Athena was sure Abby didn't understand fully the things that happened, she knew the other woman understood. That was all she could hope for.

The small procession of newcomers arrived at the homestead to find the sun ever present in the sky and Eamon outside as he swung a large axe down upon log after log, the actions clearly calming and comforting.

"Eamon," Athena called out and she pulled her horse to a slow halt before dismounting.

"Heda," Eamon's voice was calm and steady despite the strain in his body, the tensing and coiling of muscle that controlled the axe as it split wood apart with ease.

He swung one last time before taking a step back and wiping a hand across his forehead, eyes squinting slightly from the sun as he took in those that stood before him.

"I have brought a healer," Athena said as she took a step forward, her voice perhaps ironing out a little in case Eamon were to say something.

"Ah," she watched as his head tilted to the side as he took in Abby, and Athena was sure Eamon tried to place where he had seen her, the resemblance to Clarke a clear echo in the back of his mind. But Athena wouldn't divulge more information than she needed to. Even to Eamon. "For Agamemnon?" he asked eventually.

"Yes," Athena said. "Is he inside?"

"Yes," and he gestured outwards for a moment. "The others," and she didn't miss the fact that he kept his description of others lacking, "they are away."

"Thank you Eamon," Athena said as she gestured for Axios to offer aid to the man in any way he wished. "Come, Abby."

It didn't take them long before stepping into the homestead. The heat of the day faded into a calming warmth. Athena remained quiet as she let Abby take in whatever it was she saw. She watched as the woman looked across the open space around her, to the chairs, the main table and even at the weapons that hung on the wall from each and every commander that had ever served their people.

Abby's mouth moved a little, and Athena knew she had meant to say or ask something before deciding not to. But Athena didn't think she had let Abby be exposed to such a secret only for the woman to feel as though she couldn't speak her mind freely.

"You may ask or say what you wish to, Abby," Athena said quietly and she made sure to look the woman in the eyes in the hopes she would see the honesty in her words.

"I—" Abby looked away in thought. "I truthfully don't know what I was going to say," and she shrugged a shoulder.

Athena smiled, she tried to make it look reassuring, but she thought she didn't succeed, if only because she herself was unsure of how best to proceed. Things were uncertain for her, things were uncertain for everyone. Though it didn't surprise her that Eamon had taken things in his stride as he always did. Perhaps he had accepted long ago that he no longer controlled the lives of many, maybe he had embraced it and had found comfort in not having the responsibilities that she now did. Perhaps she'd take a page out of his book, perhaps she'd follow in his footsteps and try to let her fears temper and fade into the past. Maybe that was the only way she'd be able to move forward without the weight of her decisions weighing her down.

"Abby," Athena said as she gestured for a chair. "I will speak with Agamemnon. If he does not wish to see you then I will not force him to. Please make yourself comfortable - Eamon or Axios or someone else will help if you ask."

And with that Athena nodded her head just once before she turned to walk down the small hallway that led to the living quarters of the past Commanders.

Athena continued to order her thoughts, she considered how she was going to convince him to let Abby help and she wondered if it had all been a mistake.

"Agamemnon?" she called out quietly as she came to his door.

There was a slight cough before she heard him call for her to enter. She took a single moment to compose herself before she pushed open the door. Agamemnon sat propped up in his bed, pillows helping him sit and an old book laid down on his lap.

"Athena," he said with a smile, his voice hoarse, his eyes weary but the smile on his face pure. "I did not realise you were visiting."

She slipped into his room and tried to ignore how gaunt his cheeks looked since last she had seen him.

"I did not have the luxury of sending word of my visit," she said as she took her place in the chair beside his bed.

He coughed an answer before he smiled again.

"It is good to see you," he said once his breathing was back under control. "I wanted to ask—"

Athena held up a hand for a moment. She wanted to get out what she needed to.

"I have brought a healer, Agamemnon," she said and she made sure he looked her in the eyes, she made sure he couldn't turn his gaze lest he find the strength to be as stubborn as he had seemingly become in his old age. "I will not force you to see her but she is here to help," Athena knew the iron in her voice would be enough for him to understand her wishes.

Agamemnon remained quiet for a long moment as he seemed to think over her offer. In the silence she let herself take in the man who was before her and though his body seemed tired, though his voice was hoarse, she found herself thinking his mind just as sharp as it had always been. But perhaps a little tired, perhaps a little weary.

"I am getting old, my child," Agamemnon said eventually, his hand reaching out as it grasped hers. "Do not worry about me."

Athena hated the fact that she was the one to look away first, but something in the way Agamemnon seemed to always make her feel smaller than she was, younger than she was made her want to scream out into the world. Not because she felt belittled, not because she felt a failure, but because it seemed to make her think she couldn't hide her fears from those around her. Or perhaps simply just him.

"And I am the Commander, Agamemnon," Athena said just as quietly. "And I wish for you to be well, even in your old age," she found herself threading her fingers between his and she wondered if Agamemnon was like this with Eamon, she wondered if he was like this with Alexandria.

Maybe the thing that made her feel so strongly was because she remembered Agamemnon's reign as Commander, she remembered who he had been and seeing him in such a different light seemed to set her mind alight with such uncertainty that she didn't know if she would ever be used to it.

Agamemnon squeezed her hand again, the pressure enough for her to look back at him. He remained quiet for a moment, and Athena could tell he was trying to order his own thoughts before speaking and she was content to let that silence be shared between them, it gave her enough time to think. Or perhaps she simply found it comforting, where words weren't needed, where company was all that mattered.

"I spoke with Alexandria," Agamemnon said.

Athena stiffened slightly.

"It took me some time to understand, Athena," he continued, his voice quieter than it had been before. "I am—" he coughed once, took a moment to compose himself. "I am proud of your actions."

Athena didn't quite know what to say simply because she didn't exactly know what Agamemnon spoke of. He took in another deep breath that sounded a little too hoarse for her comfort before he squeezed her hand once more.

"I know you care for Clarke," he said and that made Athena look away, made her flinch as if he had slapped her, struck her across the face and wounded her deeper than she had ever been wounded before.

But she knew enough not to pretend otherwise, she respected Agamemnon, who he had been and who he had become and she wouldn't lie.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked.

"No," he said sadly, his head shaking. "No my child, it is not that obvious."

"Then why do you say such things?" she questioned.

Agamemnon squeezed her hand again before continuing.

"I have known more Commanders than any other person alive," he said. "That I am almost certain of," he smiled sadly. "It pains me every time I hear of a Commander's passing just as it joys me to see the next, to know that their experiences, pains and hates and loves were not forgotten."

Athena didn't say anything. She didn't think she needed to.

"Clarke cares for Lexa — for Alexandria, for both of them in her own way," he continued. "And I know that Heda Lexa cared for her just as deeply," and he looked her in the eyes. "It is not an emotion easily ignored, no matter who remembers them."

"No," Athena said and shook her head. Perhaps it felt good, cathartic to speak to Agamemnon of truths she didn't often voice. "They are emotions not easily ignored," but as she said the words she said she couldn't help but to feel divorced from them in that moment. But why, she did not know.

"Athena," Agamemnon said.

"Yes?" she answered.

"Alexandria needs guidance now more than ever," and he looked at her with gentle iron in his eyes.

Athena didn't really know what to say in that moment, perhaps because Agamemnon had a way of making her feel small, safe, a child in the presence of a grandfather. Or perhaps because she truly didn't think she knew how to move the next pieces of the puzzle into whatever positions they needed to be in to move her people forward, to move her forward. To move Alexandria forward.

"I am lost in this, Agamemnon," Athena said then, and she met his gaze with just as much certainty as she saw in his gaze. "No Commander before me has made the decisions I have made, that I wish to make to ensure our people continue to evolve, continue to learn to live in a world that does not need to be as violent as it once was — that has not had need for war for such a long time."

Athena paused as she tried to think, as she tried to understand the things she said. But the longer she thought, the more she realised she tried to shift the topic of discussion away from emotion, away from hurt, and towards her people, towards things she felt more prepared to face than others. And she knew Agamemnon saw through her attempt to protect herself.

"You speak of our people, of your duty to our people, Athena," he said quietly. "And yet I speak of you. You are not something to shy from, you are not something that should be avoided. Without you there is no future for our people."

"There will always be another Commander," Athena challenged.

Agamemnon let the silence settle between them for what seemed like an age. Though she knew it perhaps only a minute or two Athena let it sit, let it simmer as she tried to figure out what the conversation was that Agamemnon had been trying to bring into existence.

"What were we talking about?" his voice sounded smaller than it had moments ago and Athena looked up to find a frown on his face as he seemingly tried to recall moments just past.

Athena thought about lying, she thought about continuing the topic of her people, and away from emotions, whether hers or Alexandria's. And yet she didn't wish to do that. Not to Agamemnon.

"You said Alexandria needs guidance," she said eventually.

"Oh," and he nodded his head. "Yes, thank you," and he took a moment to compose himself before continuing. "You can help her, Athena," Agamemnon said. "More than you realise."

"How?" perhaps it was silly to ask given what Agamemnon had just said. And yet she didn't know how else to ask, what else to ask.

"Let Alexandria speak to her," and this time Agamemnon's eyes seemed sharper than they had moments ago.

And so Athena sat back in her chair as she thought over what Agamemnon had said. Part of her wanted to recoil from the idea, part of her wanted to embrace it in the hopes that it would help ease her own emotional turmoil. And truthfully, she found herself simply wanting to remain by Agamemnon's side where she could feel different, where the weight of every decision she made was lifted and where she could pretend, just for an hour or two, that she wasn't responsible for the lives of so many people.

The sky was beginning to darken and the bravest of the stars had already taken residence high above. Alexandria found herself walking back to the homestead, her brow sweaty and a basket of apples slung over her back. Her days spent picking fruits or fishing or any number of other things weren't bad, in fact she enjoyed them, but she had found her time passing more quickly with Clarke's added presence. She thought she enjoyed Clarke's company more and more with each passing day. Truthfully, she had been afraid of letting her guard down, of trying to live up to whatever expectations she had assumed Clarke had. But she found herself happy with the way things had slowly settled into place. Of course there were discussions where boundaries had been set, where truths and forgotten pasts had been acknowledged between them, but she thought those discussions something of a fresh start for them both.

In fact, she found herself respecting Clarke's understanding, she had found herself admiring the fact that the woman could separate her emotions, seemingly come to terms with the way things had turned out and still face them with as much honesty as she could possess.

Maybe those things, the way Clarke had been so ready to accept her for who she had become were why Alexandria felt she was able to deal with and accept the way her life had ended so abruptly. It wasn't that it ate her up inside, it wasn't that she felt ashamed. But part of her, some infinitesimally childish part of her had hoped her passing had been full of glory, had been in battle surrounded by Mountain Man and Reaper. And yet it hadn't. It had been an accident, something unexpectedly out of nowhere that it made her feel just the slightest hints of indignation. And that, she knew, was why those like her weren't supposed to know much of their reign.

And so Alexandria shook her head and shrugged the basket of apples higher onto her shoulders.

"It looks like we have visitors," Clarke's voice cut into her thoughts and Alexandria looked up and peered down the row of apple trees they walked to find a number of horses gathered at the homestead in the far distance.

"It appears we do," she answered with a small smile.

"Did you know the Commander was going to come?" Clarke asked.

"No," she took a moment to try and recall if Athena had made mention of it last time she had visited. "I do not."

"I guess we'll find out," Clarke said with a smile before she pulled her own basket of apples closer to her body.

Over the last few days Athena had found herself growing more comfortable with asking Clarke questions of her life outside of the homestead, of what she had done after the Mountain's fall — though she was now careful to avoid mention of anything too close to home. She didn't think herself ready for those conversations again just yet. As she looked up into the sky and to the few stars already alight, she found herself wondering what it must have been like up there. She didn't think she knew what to even think or envision, it seemed so foreign to her, so obscure, like she couldn't even grasp the words to voice the thoughts she had.

She looked at Clarke to find her gaze settled somewhere on the ground, the woman clearly lost in thought for the moment. Alexandria took the time to take in the way Clarke frowned ever so slightly, the creases of her forehead a permanent thing that had etched themselves upon her face after the years of struggle. She thought it made her look defiant in some way, as if she constantly dared the world to challenge her, to say she was wrong in whatever thing she had put her mind to.

Perhaps for the briefest of moments Alexandria wondered if those same lines had been on Clarke's face when they had first met, or if they had formed years later. Perhaps she'd ask sometime soon, perhaps she'd broach the topic when she felt herself more comfortable, more sure of the thing that existed between them.

"What?"

Alexandria blinked in surprise at Clarke's voice.

"Sorry," she said and she looked away. "I did not mean to stare."

"It's ok," Clarke answered with a shrug.

"I was just thinking," Alexandria decided to ask at least half of her thoughts.

"About?"

"What was it like up there?" she had no other way of asking, no other way of putting words to the thoughts she had in her mind.

"It was a lot like what it's like down here," Clarke answered, the words she said seemingly memorised. "But different," and yet Clarke paused, perhaps in thought, perhaps because she realised what she said were memorised words she had said countless times to a question asked over and over again. "It was strange," Clarke said and she looked up at the sky and Alexandria watched as memories began to take hold of her expression. "My father was an engineer, a builder, he fixed things to make sure we could survive," Clarke said and Alexandria knew whatever memories Clarke was bringing forward were painful. "He died trying to protect us."

Alexandria didn't want to pry. She could tell Clarke had voiced things that seemed to hurt still and for some reason she found herself unwilling to be the cause of more pain.

"I hardly knew my father," Alexandria said.

That seemed to surprise Clarke a little for her eyes widened just a fraction as she continued to walk beside her.

"I was taken from him as a young child, hardly old enough to raise a sword," Alexandria continued, and she found herself trying to remember a face she hadn't seen in years. "I spoke with him perhaps once or twice a year as I trained," and she shrugged, the memories so long ago, that life so foreign to her that she could almost be mistaken in her memories.

Clarke didn't say anything in response and Alexandria knew it wasn't because she didn't care. And why she knew that, she couldn't quite tell.

"I think he passed years ago," perhaps that made her feel a sadness that she hadn't realised she could have felt.

"I'm sorry," Clarke whispered, and it surprised Alexandria to feel Clarke's hand squeeze hers for the briefest of moments.

"Yes," Alexandria said as she nodded to herself. "As am I."

"And your mother?" Clarke's question was uncertain, careful enough that Alexandria again knew Clarke didn't wish to cause her harm and would be more than understanding should she change topics.

"She passed in childbirth," and Alexandria smiled something a little sad. "I did not get the chance to know her as I wished."

Clarke remained quiet for a moment longer before she spoke next, "I'm sure both of your parents would be proud of you, Alexandria."

Alexandria nodded her head in an attempt to give an answer that didn't require her to say anything in particular. These few moments she shared with Clarke came perhaps once or twice a day where they would open themselves to learn more about the other as they continued their shared dance of uncertainty.

"I wonder what my father would think of the ground," Clarke said then, and Alexandria looked at her to find her gaze turned up towards the shining stars. "I think that's my biggest regret," her voice was quiet and Alexandria didn't wish to break the calm that had settled over them. "He worked so hard for us to have a chance of survival but he never got to see the fruits of his labour," she paused for a moment to steady her breath. "If anyone deserved to see the ground it was him."

Alexandria found herself looking at Clarke's face for a long moment, perhaps in an attempt to see an image of the man who had fathered Clarke, perhaps in an attempt to force his spirit to comfort a daughter clearly still longing for a connection.

"But sometimes I'm afraid of what he'd think of the things I've done," Clarke continued. "Or maybe I'm just afraid because when I think about them, about the lives I've taken, I know I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"He would not blame you, Clarke," Alexandria said quietly. "Not for protecting your people."

Clarke looked back at her with a sad smile upon her lips.

"When I was younger I thought he'd hate what I'd become, I thought he'd be repulsed by the things I did. But now, as I'm older? I think you're right, Alexandria."

Alexandria returned Clarke's sad smile with her own and she found her own hand reaching out and squeezing Clarke's for a brief moment, the connection between them long enough that things that weren't said could be understood for what they were and not for what they had once been.

"What about you?" Clarke asked then. "Do you ever wonder about your father?"

Alexandria let Clarke's question linger in her mind for a while as she considered her thoughts, as she tried to think back to times long since gone. Truthfully she hadn't had those thoughts for quite some time. She had come to accept the way her life had turned out years ago, and yet Clarke's arrival had changed things, had made her reconsider, reassess.

"He was fearful," Alexandria said eventually. "I do not remember much," and she shrugged a shoulder. "I know he was fearful for he knew the chances of my survival were low — just like every nightblood. And yet I know he, too, would be proud of the role I have played in our people's lives," perhaps what she said had been the closest she had come to facing her role as Commander, as Heda, as Lexa. But that life seemed so foreign to her and she thought it always would.

The rest of the walk to the homestead went by in comfortable silence between both women. Clarke was happy to let their conversation settle between them. She thought it healthy for them to share in the short snippets of emotions they shared, and she thought it healthy to let it settle, let it breathe lest either of them become overwhelmed.

But with those short snippets of emotions came complicated ones, ones she didn't really know how to deal with. As they approached the homestead Clarke found her thoughts turning over every scenario she could think of as to why Athena might have come. She wasn't so selfish as to think it was centred around her, it was more so that Athena made her face emotions she had been able to push aside for the time being. Namely the fact that she cared for Athena, that she wished for her to be well, safe, and happy.

Love was a complicated emotion that Clarke knew to be cruel and unfair at times. There was the fact that she had known Athena far longer than she had known Lexa. And yet there was the fact that she didn't quite know if the things she felt for Athena were because of her similarities to Lexa. Or the fact that Lexa still existed in the flame, had spoken to her through Athena and had told her to go to Alexandria, to help her.

Clarke had thought over those events long enough to come to the conclusion that the Lexa in the flame had meant her words, had not simply been trying to tell her something to sway her opinion despite her own wants. She knew Lexa to be selfless, that the woman would willingly sacrifice her own life to save hers — she'd done just that when they had both been in the flame together. So maybe what Clarke really needed was just one last chance to say thank you to Lexa, to thank her for being who she was, for letting her have a chance of moving on from her past. She'd have the rest of her life to make amends with Athena.

And so, as Clarke and Alexandria stepped into the homestead, she realised her time at the homestead had given her the ability to decompress, to forget about the outside world and to live in the moment, to understand what she had really needed.

Athena sat at the table, Eamon across from her and Brutus in his usual spot under the table with his tail wagging back and forth happily.

Clarke took a moment to meet Athena's gaze, and she saw the same emotions she knew were in her own. It was cruel, she knew they both could understand that much.

"Heda," Alexandria said quietly as she set the basket of apples down. "Will you be staying long?" and Clarke let her take the basket in her own arms.

"Perhaps, Alexandria," Athena answered as she came to stand.

"Hey," Clarke whispered as she raised her hand awkwardly.

"Clarke," Athena said in greeting as she bowed her head slightly. "Your mother is here."

That made Clarke's eyebrows raise a fraction. She hadn't expected that. In fact she would have been less surprised if Athena had said her father had returned from the dead.

"Why?" part of Clarke couldn't help but to immediately think something terrible had happened.

"There is no trouble," Athena said quickly as she clearly read the worry in Clarke's voice. "She has agreed to care for Agamemnon."

"Oh," Clarke should have said something else, anything else. But she couldn't help but to feel a little at a loss given the fact that Athena had allowed someone into the homestead. She knew the risks Athena was taking, she knew the rules she was breaking. "Hey, Athena," Clarke said quickly as Athena began to sit again, her gaze already beginning to shift to follow Alexandria who had begun to move to the kitchen.

"Clarke?"

"Can we talk for a moment?" Clarke said and she gestured for the hallway.

Athena once more looked at Alexandria as if she wished to speak with her first only for her to nod and begin to walk towards the hallway. That wasn't missed on Clarke, and as she came to stand in front of her she gestured with her head back towards the kitchen.

"If you need to speak with Alexandria I can wait, Athena."

"No," and Athena shook her head and smiled at her. "It is ok."

"Are you sure?" Clarke asked and she made sure to pin Athena with as stern a look as she could muster.

"I am certain," and Athena lifted her chin in a way that made the guilt gnaw at Clarke just that little bit more sharply.

"Ok," and Clarke took in a deep breath before she gestured for Athena to follow her into her room. "I know I might be overstepping some boundaries here, Athena," she began. "Tell me if I do and I'll drop it, I'll never mention it agai—"

"—Clarke," Athena reached out and placed her hands atop Clarke's shoulders as if to steady her. "Speak," again Clarke couldn't help but to feel a stab of guilt as she steeled herself to ask what she was to ask.

"I—" she directed Athena to the edge of her bed before she took a seat in a chair opposite her. There was no simple way of asking, no tactful way of broaching the subject. She knew she needed to be strong, accept the guilt that came and to ask what she wanted to ask. "Can I speak with Lexa?"

Athena's eyes widened a fraction and Clarke wanted to take back her question as soon as it left her lips.

Clarke remained quiet though. She wouldn't do Athena a disservice by pressuring her, she wouldn't try to weasel out of the question. She maintained eye contact with her and tried to show her that it wasn't some kind of trick, that what she asked had a reason and that she'd accept whatever decision Athena came to.

"Ok," Athena said.

"Are you sure?" Clarke asked.

"Yes, Clarke," Athena said. "I am sure."

"Ok," Clarke echoed and she looked away and bit her lip as she tried to order her thoughts and think of what needed to be done. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing," Athena said with a single shrug of her shoulder.

And so Clarke watched as Athena took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. Though Clarke didn't entirely know how the flame worked she could tell Athena was accessing it in some way. In fact she remembered a time so long ago when she had walked into Lexa's quarters in polis to find her seated at the foot of her bed in a similar way.

As she continued to take in Athena's face she saw it relax, she saw the muscles turn calm and serene. But she could see her eyes moving back and forth under closed eyelids, she could tell something was happening despite the calmness of her face and though Clarke couldn't exactly describe it, though she didn't really even know how she could tell, she knew the exact moment some changed.

There was a slight grimace, something barely noticeable upon Athena's face before her eyes stilled and her breathing picked up just a tick before fading back into calm.

And then her eyes opened.

Clarke felt her own heart beating strongly in her chest as she looked at green eyes, as she looked at a freckled face that seemed so very different to Athena's in the way it held itself, in the way eyes seemed to take in what was in front of her. It was unsettling in some way she couldn't place but Clarke wouldn't waste the opportunity to say thank you to Lexa, she wouldn't waste Athena's gift.

"Lexa," Clarke whispered. "I—"

A hand came up as if to stop her from speaking.

And then they spoke.

"It's—" a pause as if to think of how to say their next words. "It's Clarke."