The dream visitor
After about an hour, Clarke had fallen asleep, her and Monroe wrapped in each other's arms.
Clarke's dreams were not void of images.
Just the opposite.
She was in a craggy area of some sort. Rough, uneven rocks and cliffs jutted out along the landscape.
She looked between the different cliffs, confused. She had seen some landscapes like this before, on the ground, when she'd been traveling on her own after the mountain.
She knew innately, as many people had dreams did, that this was just a dream. But she wasn't sure why she was having a dream of this landscape.
"Confused, are we?" A voice called from behind Clarke, making her actually jump. She snapped around, eyes hardening in a glare, body tense, ready for a fight.
What she saw behind her, wasn't a figure dressed like any tribe member she had ever seen. He was tall, and wide in the shoulders, but didn't look like he was about to attack. He had very short, light brown hair, a soft smile, a slim and soft face and light blue eyes.
"Hello, Clarke," he said, "I've been wanting to talk to you for a while now. You don't need to worry about my presence here. I won't hurt you. I'm just here to give advice."
Clarke eyed the man cautiously, leaning back against a tree, making sure he was in her sight, always.
"Whatever it is you want to say," she said angrily, "Speak quickly."
"So impatient," the man said, chuckling, "Alright. I know by now you've figured out that the enemy is Moloch and his followers. But I must ask you not to falter in stopping them. Even if you think that the only thing you need to do, is survive."
Clarke snorted, "What are you, my conscience or something, made manifest? I know I have to stop them. Don't forget, they have the rest of the Ark people."
The man nodded. "Interesting," he said, "That you refer to them as 'Ark people,' and not as 'your people.'"
Clarke scowled. She had no idea why her dream was fucking with her like this, but she didn't like it.
She said, "They're not my people. I have no people. The Grounders and the Ark people alike made that clear to me."
The man nodded. "Understood," he said, "I can't say I blame you. When people make it clear that they don't want you, that they will always treat you like an outsider, then how else can you react." He sat down crisscross on the ground and he patted the ground across from him, trying to invite Clarke to do the same.
Cautiously, Clarke made her way over to the man, lowering herself, sitting down in the same position, facing the man.
The man said, smiling, "I need you to listen to me. The stakes are high right now. The followers of Moloch have brought someone back to life. Someone you know. They are hoping to sway your decisions by bringing this person back from the dead."
Clarke frowned. This was a rather elaborate dream that she was having. She asked, "Who?"
The man chuckled, "I think it's best I don't say. You'll get upset if I'm the one to say it. You'll be upset no matter what, but I think it's best that I don't tell you. Someone you know and love was brought back from the dead. Let's just put it like that. Moloch's followers are going to use this person against you. And I'm here to help fortify you. The people around you, the people that love you, Zoe Monroe, Niylah, Wells Jaha, Sekena, Anya? Hold onto them. They will be your strength against what Moloch's followers try to do."
Clarke snorted. This was the most bizarre dream she'd ever had.
"You're not dreaming," the man said simply, "As I'm sure you've gathered by now? Gods exist. I'm one of them. And I'm just looking out for you."
Clarke actually laughed, staring at this manifestation of her mind. She had to be dreaming. Even if she wasn't? Why would she trust this person? If anything, the fact that she had an actual person in her brain, was all the more reason, not to trust anything this person said. Because why would she trust anyone except herself?
"You're just a figment of my imagination," she insisted, "And even if you weren't? That's all the more reason not to trust you. I'm not going to trust anyone but myself. Besides, if you are a god? Well, that sounds like a really, really good reason not to trust you. From the things I've heard of? You gods aren't always the most trustworthy."
The man appeared in no way offended. He smiled actually and chuckled. "You know," he said, "That's reasonable enough. And I suppose if you knew which god I was? You wouldn't trust me as far as you could throw me. But nonetheless? I still would like to offer you some help. Now, you might wonder, how do you fight against Moloch? Have you ever heard the phrase, 'fight fire with fire?'"
Clarke frowned, staring at this man or figment of her imagination. "You're saying I should set the god on fire?"
The man laughed again. "Nothing that simple," he said, "You'll get a more obvious answer. Later. I'll send you allies. Amongst them, my children. I hope you don't become put off by my children's appearances. But the first of them will show up to help you, in two days."
Clarke smirked, "Oh? Should I wait for the first chime of midnight?"
Again, the man chuckled. "Ah," he said, "A 'Christmas Carol' reference. Very funny. No. My son will arrive in two days. During the day. I hope you won't find his…appearance disturbing. Many of my children have rather alarming appearances. But don't worry. They'll be on your side."
"My side," Clarke snorted, "Cute. I don't even know what 'my side' is anymore. Look, let's say for conversation's sake, that you actually are a god. Let's make this clear, I don't like that you only show up now. Where the fuck were you for the past months and months in the other time? I didn't want this. How could anyone want this?"
Finally, the man looked upset. Not angry. Just oddly, hurt.
"And you think I wanted it?" he asked, "Or my daughter wanted it? Clarke, if you hadn't been brought back after you were shot…do you have any idea where your brave, noble soul would have gone? If you hadn't been brought back….," The man stopped talking, eyes widening, as if realizing that he'd said too much.
Clarke stared at the man, suddenly now getting the idea, that she just might not be talking to a figment of her imagination.
Still sitting, Clarke shifted back slightly. "Who are you?" She asked, tensing up.
The man again chuckled, "The answer that is…difficult to explain. But I'm sending you help. Allies. Starting with one of my sons. Again, I hope you're not put off by his appearance. He's a horse and he has eight legs, you know."
Clarke blanched as she tried to comprehend that piece of information.
If this was a dream? It was the most bizarre dream she'd ever had.
The man nodded to Clarke. He said, "Hold onto the people that love you. Who actually support you. Don't let Moloch's followers infect you with their tricks. I'm a trickster, I love tricks. But don't let Moloch and his followers trick you."
The man got up, and looked at Clarke with a startling amount of affection as he smiled sadly, "I hope you…and the person that Moloch's followers had brought back, can make the right decision."
Staring at the man, Clarke snapped, "Who are you?!"
The man paused, then turned back to Clarke as he said, "Family, Clarke. Let's just leave it at that. Family."
Clarke snorted, "Not sure if that's supposed to be reassuring. In case you haven't noticed? My family wasn't exactly trustworthy."
The man nodded. "Yes," he said, "Not trustworthy, on your mother's side of the family. Not on your father's side."
Clarke frowned, staring at this man. What the hell was this guy saying? Who was he?
The man turned and suddenly vanished in a bright light, making Clarke wince and look away. She cursed quietly as she woke up, gasping, now in a dark room, where light was spilling through the dusty curtains.
She gasped, stunned. What the hell was that?
"Clarke?" Monroe mumbled sleepily, getting up and yawning, "You alright, sweetie?"
Normally, Clarke would both be startled still and touched by Monroe calling her 'sweetie' continually, but right now? Now, she was just confused.
Because what the fuck was that?!
Clarke nodded. "Yeah," she grumbled, "I'm awake. Think I'm losing it, though."
She heard Monroe chuckle, before kissing Clarke's neck, making Clarke gasp again, this time, in pleasure, closing her eyes.
"What the hell time is it?" Clarke mumbled.
"Don't know," Monroe confessed, still snuggling close to Clarke, "But the sunlight's bright. So, it's probably late in the day by now."
"Shit," Clarke said, yawning, "How long did we sleep?"
Clarke then remembered something.
They put people on "watch duty," last night.
Anya and Pascal.
So, what the hell had they been doing all night? Had they woken anyone else up to take watch in the next shift?
"Shit," Clarke mumbled, "Anya and Pascal. Gotta check with them."
"You stay in bed, sweetie," Monroe said, pushing Clarke back onto the bed when the older blonde tried to get up, "I'll check, okay?"
Clarke scoffed and contemplated making more of a fuss, but didn't.
Monroe smiled when Clarke stayed where she was, and got out from under the covers, shoving her shoes on and going across the room to the door and went through.
Joey and Leah, had been placed in a room, down the hall, which was further away from the stairwell door, so that should anyone attack, the kids would be further away from any entry point.
Monroe went down the hall, peering into Joey and Leah's room. She saw two small forms under blankets in the beds, hearing soft snoring.
Monroe nodded and walked out, then went to the stairwell, went down the steps for five flights and reached the bottom, going out into the lobby.
She was half expecting an exhausted Anya and Pascal to be there. But it wasn't them. Who was there instead, were Wells and Sekena.
Monroe blinked, seeing them. "Oh, hey," she said, feeling awkward that that was all she had to offer up as a conversation.
"Munroh," Sekena greeted, smiling.
It struck Monroe, that Sekena was far more polite than a lot of Grounders. Or rather, than a lot of Trikru.
The Luwoda people had always seemed polite enough. And Monroe couldn't speak for the rest of the tribes.
But Sekena, a Trikru warrior, it was clearly rare when any of them were even remotely friendly.
Lincoln honestly, was the only Trikru that Monroe had assumed to be even close to friendly.
But it looked like Sekena was making an effort.
Monroe thought about Sekena's affection for Clarke.
Sekena loved Clarke as a daughter.
So the Trikru woman said.
Monroe looked at Wells, and noted that Wells was watching Sekena, as if trying to square out if Sekena could be trusted with Clarke. It occurred to Monroe that Wells probably was trying to make sure that Sekena was safe to be around Clarke.
"How long have the two of you been awake?" She asked.
"A while now," Wells said, not facing Monroe, "We were talking."
"About?" Monroe asked cautiously.
"Clarke," Sekena said, "Are you surprised?"
Monroe chuckled, shaking her head. No. She wasn't surprised.
"I guess not," she confessed, then looking at Wells, she asked, "So, how trustworthy do you think she is?" She nodded to Sekena.
"From what I can tell?" Wells confessed, "I think she's very trustworthy. At least around Clarke."
Monroe nodded, turning to Sekena.
"You care about Clarke?" She asked, voice a challenge.
"I do," Sekena said, nodding, "She is my daughter. If she needs time? I will give her it. But I hope she will come to see me as her mother."
Monroe cautiously looked at Wells again.
Wells shrugged. "Trust me," he said, "I've been vetting her all morning. Do you think I wouldn't, when she says she wants to by Clarke's mother? I've been needing to make sure that she won't hurt Clarke in any way."
Monroe looked at Wells. "And?" She asked.
Wells shrugged. "Well," he said, "If she's lying about caring about Clarke genuinely? She's very good at it."
Monroe nodded.
Okay. She had figured as such. But she had needed to make sure.
"Oh," Sekena said, lifting her head and smiling.
Monroe frowned and cautiously turned to look at who was approaching.
Clarke and Niylah had decided to join them.
Clarke clearly had gotten dressed fast, because she was securing her jacket, as she stepped closer.
Niylah was dressed, following Clarke and watching the young woman, wanting very obviously to protect Clarke.
Clarke looked at Monroe, Sekena and Wells.
She asked Sekena and Wells cautiously, "Which guards did you replace, when it was your turn to keep watch?"
"Trina," Wells said, "And Harper."
Clarke nodded.
"Do you know who they replaced?" She asked.
Sekena nodded. "Fin and one of Onya's warriors. And they replaced Onya and Paskal."
Clarke nodded.
Okay. Wells and Sekena didn't look all that tired. So, clearly Anya and Pascal, then Finn and Anya's other warrior, and then Trina and Harper and now Wells and Sekena, hadn't been awake for that many hours.
Good. They'd need everyone to be rested up for moving out for the day.
Clarke tried not to think too much about what it was she had seen in her dream. It had to just have been a very, very ludicrous dream. Nothing more.
That was the only explanation.
Something the man she had seen in her dream, had said, made her frown. A horse with eight legs.
That sounded like something familiar. Something she'd heard of in myth.
But she dismissed it quickly.
There apparently, was a fire using, child sacrificing god that existed, so, her mind was just coming up with things that were influenced by that huge bombshell that had been dropped on her and the others. That was all.
She said, "Anyone have any idea what time it is?" She asked, checking the time on her father's watch.
Naturally, any time she read on her father's watch, wouldn't be the time it was right now in Milan. Clarke's father's watch was set for hours before, which was the time she and the others had been in the United States.
The time zone made it confusing. But clearly, the time that was on Clarke's father's watch, that being, "10:00," most likely AM, by United States time.
But it was clearly not that early right now.
Clarke had no idea what the hour difference between northern Italy and where she and the others had come from in the United States. But she suspected that it was a big hour difference.
"How long has it been light out?" Monroe asked Sekena and Wells.
"For several hours now," Sekena answered, "According to Trina and Harper, when we replaced them for watching duty."
Monroe nodded and Clarke sighed, dropping her arm at her side.
"Okay," she said, "So, we should have been out of here several hours ago."
"We know," Sekena said, "But no one was attacking and we felt that you needed your sleep."
Clarke narrowed her eyes, anger momentarily rising up in her. "So, you decided that you'd get to make that choice for me?"
Sekena looked at Clarke, appearing none too put off by Clarke's tone. "I'm sorry, Clarke," she said, not sounding very sorry, "But we just want you to be healthy, is all."
"That wasn't your choice," Clarke growled, "If you want to be…my mother, I need you to work with me. Not plot against me."
Even as Clarke said the words, she knew how paranoid she must have sounded.
But hadn't she had every reason in the world, to be paranoid? Hadn't she had multiple reasons to be extremely paranoid over time?
Any time she so much as let her guard down, there always appeared to be a new knife in her back.
So, you know what? Clarke felt like she had plenty of justifiable grounds to be as paranoid as she was.
Sekena nodded, again, not looking put off by Clarke's words. "I wasn't plotting against you," she said, "I just wanted you to get more sleep. It wasn't like I chose not to alert you while people were attacking. For that, Wels and I would have woken you up. But no one was attacking us."
At Clarke's annoyed look, Sekena added, "It wasn't betrayal, Klark. I swear, it's not betrayal."
"It is if I say it is," Clarke snapped, glaring at Sekena, losing her patience, "I've had enough of people talking back to me. If I say you betrayed me, you did. I'll let you off this one time. But don't ever do something like this again."
Sekena's eyebrows went up, but again, she didn't appear to be disturbed. She eventually nodded.
"Alright, Klark," she said, nodding, and to Clarke's surprise, she didn't appear all that upset.
Clarke glared still at the woman and stepped away.
Monroe stepped closer to Clarke as she said gently, "You were too harsh, Clarke."
"Was I?" Clarke snorted, "Then maybe she shouldn't have decided what was best for me without asking."
Monroe sighed, shaking her head. "That's how you see someone looking out for you," she said, "Look, maybe Sekena should have run that by you, but she was just trying to help."
Clarke glowered ahead and just moved.
They woke the others up, and Monroe gathered up Joey and Leah.
All of them filed out of the hotel, grabbing everything and made their way away from the hotel.
As the group made their way through the different streets, about almost three minutes in all, they came across a large and rectangular structure-rectangular in several halls, with multiple white columns around, holding the arched halls up.
There were a few statues under one arch, many of them with ivy all over them.
"Check out the doors on that building," Wells said, doors within some of the arches, "They look sturdy."
"Think we should go in there and stay there, till the people after us go by?" Clarke asked, eyeing the building.
"It looks more secure than the hotel," Monroe confessed.
Clarke nodded. Well, they were at a loss of where to go next, right? So, why not?
Clarke sighed and went along the courtyard, going to the arches of the building.
She said as they reached the arches of the building, "Well, we're going to need some fresh water and more food, soon."
"Agreed," Monroe said, "Let's try to check this place out, for now."
They reached the doors of the structure, and Clarke peered up above the doors, finding no words to describe what this building might be.
She frowned. She had no idea what this place was.
But if it offered up shelter, then Clarke supposed she was glad for it, whatever this place was.
Wells walked over to a pair of the doors and reached out, his hands pushing at the doors and slowly pushing them open.
The group entered through the doors.
The building inside was entirely dark. There were shelves all over the place, against the walls.
And there was a somewhat arched roof.
There were sunlight coming in through some of the windows. The light allowing Clarke and the others to see some more things within the building.
Clarke looked over the things that the sunlight had illuminated.
Books. Many, many books.
There was also a short, small wooden pedestal that apparently, held a world globe in it.
It took Clarke only a few seconds for her to realize what the building was that they had entered.
A library. They were in a library.
Monroe must have realized it too, because she said, smiling, "Oh, huh, I guess we found the library here."
They moved through the building, and Clarke looked at the different furniture around the area.
There were multiple chairs and tables around the large room. All of them most likely sturdy wood, whatever type of wood that might be.
Clarke got close to one table, tilted her head at the chair she was near, and kicked her right foot out, sending the chair flying a few feet away, slamming into another chair, hard, the sound harsh and almost painful.
She heard several gasps behind her, and she smirked at the startled and frightened noises.
"Clarke, why did you-?" Wells said, startled.
"No reason," Clarke said, already knowing that she was lying.
It was one of those things were, she wasn't sure why she had done what she had done.
But she understood it only a second later.
Oh. That was why. She had kicked the chair, because she had wanted to destroy it. She hadn't done it to upset the people around her, which was saying something, as she'd usually do something like kick that chair, for that reason. But not this time.
She kicked the chair across the room, because she'd wanted to see if she could destroy the chair.
Because wouldn't it feel good to destroy something that had survived for years after the wars and the radiation?
Clarke might have been the worst person alive, but she doubted that enjoying destroying things out of sadistic glee, made her in any way, worse than she was.
She went over to another shelf, looking over the titles. Of course, she couldn't read any of the titles. They were in Italian.
She heard footsteps coming closer.
Monroe sided up next to Clarke, looking at the many different book titles that they could see with the sunlight shining down on them.
Monroe, Clarke noticed, was looking up along the different shelves, clearly searching for something.
"What are you looking for?" Clarke asked, confused. Because for all of Monroe's interests and talents, she doubted that Monroe knew Italian or any other language besides English or Trigedasleng.
Then again, that was a rather condescending thing to think, right? Just because someone had grown up in alleyways, didn't mean that they wouldn't have picked up a few languages on their own.
"'The Divine Comedy.'" Monroe's answer almost made Clarke step back, stunned.
"You've read that?" Clarke asked, stunned.
Monroe chuckled, smirking, "You have a high expectation for the things I've read. No. I haven't read it. But a lot of the things I have read? Cite the Divine Comedy. And even on the Ark, when I looked up stuff on the Internet, I kept seeing commentaries about it. That it influenced a lot of things."
Clarke chuckled. Okay. That sounded more realistic. She hadn't read the whole fucking Divine Comedy. Neither had Wells, as far as she knew.
She had barely gotten to the end of the "Fifth Circle." Specifically, "Anger." Which in retrospect? Was actually rather fitting for her, wasn't it?
Within the Divine Comedy, and Dante's Inferno, there were nine circles of hell. Technically eight, if you decided that you didn't count "Limbo," as one of those circles.
The circles after Limbo, were Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Anger, Heresy, Violence, Fraud and Treachery.
Clarke didn't have an inkling of what was in "Purgatory" or "Paradise," since she had never read so much as one page of those.
Funny, wasn't it? How much more popular the more "fucked up" things tended to be.
There was probably a reason the Inferno was the most popularly read than the other two were.
"Well," Clarke said, "Do you know Italian? Cause I don't think that you'll be able to read one if it's in Italian."
Monroe chuckled again, "You would be correct. And no, I don't know Italian. I picked up a lot of Spanish on the Ark-to the point that I might be almost fluent, and even some Cantonese in some areas I hung out in, but that's about it."
Clarke nodded. "Well," she said, "This library must have been around for a while before the bombs and the radiation. So, I'm sure we'll find a version at least in Spanish. Maybe in English, even. Probably not Cantonese, though."
"Eh, it's alright," Monroe said, snickering as she looked over the many titles of the books, "We've got bigger things to worry about."
Clarke stared at Monroe, honestly not sure what to say. She supposed it was her own fault. After all, she kept expecting Monroe to be completely "uncouth," and "limited" in the things she knew.
But Monroe kept surprising her.
Again, her fault, most likely, for continuing to see Monroe as uneducated. Just because Monroe hadn't had a conventional school education on the Ark, didn't mean that she was unintelligent or uneducated.
Monroe had educated herself in many things, clearly.
Monroe smirked, feeling Clarke's eyes on her. She knew that Clarke kept underestimating her intelligence and her general knowledge of things.
Monroe could have been angry about it. She wasn't. She honestly just found Clarke's reactions funny. And was overjoyed at seeing Clarke's surprise, whenever she discovered something new about the younger girl.
Monroe was happy when Clarke was startled into seeing how much Monroe knew, and how much Monroe knew how to do.
And it wasn't entirely Clarke's fault. Clarke and Wells likely had been raised in a society that told them that anyone who didn't have a conventional form of education, was clearly uneducated.
Joey and Leah came over to where Monroe and Clarke were.
Joey asked as he and Leah came over, the siblings hand in hand, "What are you two looking at?"
"Not much," Monroe said, "I wouldn't be able to tell you. Since I don't know Italian."
Clarke quietly chuckled, her shock subsiding slightly as she looked at Joey and Leah.
She then looked over at where the rest of the group was.
They'd figure out what to do soon. They had to.
Not far from where Clarke and her group had decided to go, the priests of Moloch, escorted Callie out of her new cell.
The cell in which Callie had spent the night in, admittedly, was much, much better than the previous cell.
This cell had been spacious, wide and roomy. Full of books and the hard floor covered with several different rugs that overlapped.
The lighting was much better in the cell, clearly good for reading.
The bed also, needless to say, far, far softer than the hard cots that were in the previous cell.
Callie, as she was escorted out of her new cell? Asked some of the guards and the masked priests that awaited her, "Um, is there a way that I can get nicer cells like the one I stayed in, for the rest of my people?"
The "head priest," at least the one that Callie assumed was the head priest, the one that had brought Jake Griffin back, tilted his head at Callie, then said, his voice matching up with the voice of the man that had brought Jake back, "I suppose that can be arranged. However, for reasons I'm sure you know, Raven Reyes shall stay where she is."
Callie snorted, "I didn't think you'd care."
"I don't," the priest answered, "However, if it means Clarke will more likely come to our side? Then I see no reason why we shouldn't treat Raven Reyes, like the treacherous wretch she is."
Callie nodded. She figured that she might as well see this as a good thing.
Raven deserved to be kept in the smaller and more uncomfortable cells. She didn't deserve a second of happiness.
Callie remembered every word of what Clarke had told her about Raven.
And every bit of it filled Callie with pure rage.
Should the priests allow it and Clarke's deal with Callie wasn't at the front of Callie's mind, Callie would go right back to the other cells, grab a knife and put it right through Raven's chest.
For the moment, Raven was lucky that the priests were restraining Callie, and that Callie had that deal with Clarke.
Callie couldn't deny it, for that alone, she liked these people.
Jake said, as he entered the room, "Yes, I heard from him," Jake nodded to the priest that had brought him back, his face a mask of anger, "That hateful girl mistreated my daughter. Blamed her. I want to kill her, myself."
The priest chuckled, "I must ask you to restrain yourself. We are, after all, trying to give Clarke reason to join us. It would not do for us to get rid of the…surprise, before Clarke gets here."
Callie said, looking at Jake, "I thought he was the surprise."
"He is," the priest confessed, "But we also want her to see Raven die, to placate her."
Callie nodded, understanding that, at least.
"Now, then," the priest said, "Clarke and her group, have gone off to the Braidense National Library. We will contact them, after giving them some time. We'll give them two days."
Callie knew she could do nothing right now.
At the shores of northern Italy, several ships stopped and threw down anchors, and platforms were pushed out as the many people from the Luwoda tribe, went down the platform.
It was daylight, so, Demona was now Dominique and was alongside Elisa, and carts were brought down from the ships, carrying the stone figures of the gargoyles, bringing them out of the ships.
It would be another few hours, before nightfall. Then Demona would be back in her gargoyle form. And the rest of the gargoyles would break out of the stone and be awake.
It was currently 3 o'clock in the afternoon.
Elisa saw the determined expression on her wife's face, and stopped herself from saying, "We'll find her."
There was no need for her to be a broken record.
She had assured Demona that they would find Clarke.
And Elisa knew her wives, better than any beings in the world. And she knew that Demona was nothing, if not determined to fulfill her goals.
In the past, her goals had been, for lack of better terms, malicious against humanity. Nowadays, all that ferocious planning and determination, went into protecting her people and the people she loved.
To an extent, that always had been what motivated Demona, or partially. It was just that her hate for humanity and her inability to acknowledge at the time, what her part was in the destruction of her different clans over the centuries, had made it difficult for her to separate the two.
"I will begin to scry," Demona said, "And hope the scrying spell will track Clarke."
At the library that used to be called the "Braidense National Library," Clarke and her group got settled in. Clarke had dropped down on her rear on one chair, leaning back against her chair, eyeing Joey and Leah talking happily with Monroe and Monroe smiling gently at them.
Clarke sighed. A small, happy family. Plus one misanthropic asshole like herself.
What exactly, was Monroe doing with Clarke?
Why did Niylah want to be with her?
Since magic existed, had Clarke accidentally somehow made them magically fall in love with her?
That sounded like the only logical explanation.
Because who in their right mind would love Clarke? Especially the way she was now.
Clarke observed the others, noticing Jasper inhaling dust and coughing up a storm. Clarke smirked at the sight, glad at Jasper's discomfort.
She heard movement and glanced, startled to see Anya sitting down next to her, not Monroe or Niylah that had come over to her.
Clarke watched Anya sit down, cautious.
"Anya," Clarke established coldly.
"Klark," Onya said back, smirking, "I see you are as distrusting as ever."
Clarke scowled at the smirk on Anya's face. "You are so arrogant. But a word of advice? Watch yourself. Your Commander isn't around anymore to back you up. You're not the top pet general anymore, Anya. After all, I bet the commander wouldn't tolerate betrayal. She likes to be the one betraying people. She doesn't like to be on the receiving end of betrayal. Even if it's from the woman that raised her."
Clarke grinned, when she saw Anya's smirk falter.
Good. So, she still had the power to hurt Anya.
Anya said, "You are not wrong. But I have left her. I am resigned to staying out of her life. As much as she means to me, I cannot be there to tell her that everything she's done is acceptable. She has to acknowledge she did something wrong. I won't feed her the lies anymore."
Clarke thought about it. And while technically speaking? Anya hadn't spoken any lies to Lexa, as far as she knew.
But telling the current commander or any commander, that the commander was incapable of doing anything wrong? Was just as much of a lie as it was a delusion.
No big power like that of a commander, king, queen or something like that, should ever go completely unquestioned.
That was exactly how you got "abuse of power."
Clarke eyed Anya some more.
Was it possible that Anya really had grown some insight and realized that she couldn't keep enabling Lexa?
Clarke had to admit, that would be a huge change.
"What's this?" Clarke asked, "You're becoming self-aware?"
Anya chuckled, "As self-aware as I suppose I can be, when I was taught my whole life to be obedient, without question to all commanders who I saw within my lifetime."
Clarke asked dryly, "You served many?"
"I did," Anya said in just as dry a voice, "I'm sure you can imagine that it's a profession that has many risks and does not have a long life expectancy."
Clarke actually almost laughed at those words.
Unlike a lot of Grounders? Anya actually knew how to have a sense of humor.
Anya continued, "I was just a girl when I started serving the first Heda I knew of. Karilo. After she died, which was when I was approaching the sixteenth year of my life, there was Hingo. Then two more before Leksa."
Clarke snorted, "Must make you worried about Lexa, then."
"Not particularly," Anya confessed, "She's surrounded by those she trusts and won't question her orders. And now the Mountain Men are dead. And the Ark people are…missing. It's reduced threats greatly to Leksa."
Onya half thought of thanking Clarke, but decided not to. She had a feeling that any thanks from her, would be met by Clarke with resentment.
Clarke wasn't sure why, and she wasn't sure why she was even risking this right now, but she said to Anya, "Can you ask Niylah to come here? And give us some time alone?"
Onya looked between Klark and Niylah, unable to help but feel slightly jealous, but nodded. "I will get Niylah, then, Klark," Onya said, getting up and going to where Niylah was, observing the others.
Onya spoke to Niylah in Trigedasleng and Niylah nodded and went over to Klark, where Klark was seated.
Niylah sat down next to Clarke, smiling that all too pleasant and warm smile at Clarke that always made the younger blonde's stomach feel warm.
"You wished to speak to me, hodness?" Niylah asked in a gentle tone.
Clarke nodded, trying not to flush at Niylah calling her "love," in Trigedasleng. It took her a few moments, but she then said, "Niylah, I have to ask you a few questions. About what dreams mean in your culture."
Clarke knew what she was doing was a severe risk, especially if it turned out that that man in her dream who she had talked to, had been real. But if there was anything that she had to go on, in this world full of magic, gods, time travel and gargoyles, shouldn't she grab onto any lead, regardless of how strange a lead it might be?
Niylah cocked her head, appearing intrigued. "Oh?" She asked, "You wish to know about what spirits and gods tell us in our dreams?"
Clarke took a deep breath in, then released it as she stared at Niylah and asked softly, making sure no one was close enough to hear, "Yeah, sure. Let's go with that. Niylah, I know this is going to sound crazy. But I have to ask; do you know anything about an eight-legged horse?"
Many streets over, where the priests of Moloch were, Callie watched and listened as the priests talked and looked over maps.
Jake was in the room, and so was Charmaine Diyoza. Charmaine, Callie realized now, was looking down at maps of the Americas, and upon closer inspection, Callie saw where tribes were marked out on the various continents across the maps of the Americas.
Callie saw several tribes' names, at least one or two of which she recognized, because Clarke had told her. But to Callie's growing unease, she saw red circles around each location that had a mark on it that deemed it important somehow. The red circle, Callie realized, blood becoming ice, when Charmaine pulled out a small dagger and jammed it into the circle around one of the bigger Trikru territories, indicated that those locations were going to be the first locations to be targeted for a "cleansing."
Callie's panicked eyes caught Jake's eyes and Callie felt her stomach turn when Jake gave her a look that could only be described as if he were saying, "It's alright, Callie. This will be for the best. For Clarke and Wells, this will be for the best."
Callie was horrified still by Jake being all for what these people wanted.
And worse, she still felt like she found what these people were going to be offering her and Jake's children, to be far too tempting. Much more tempting than it should have been.
Author's note
Behold, the actual plot! Congratulations to everyone who weathered all the chapters full of bullshit to finally get to the actual plot of the story!