Clarke wasn't entirely sure what emotion she was feeling. She sat atop River, her old companion perhaps sensing her uncertainties as she threw her head one way or the other before finally settling into something tense, something apprehensive.

Early morning rays of light cut through treetops overhead and between the grand tree trunks, moss covered and weathered to the wind, Clarke could see Arkadia. It's structure so very similar to what it had once been, its presence grander, more lively, more accustomed to the ways of the ground than it had been so many years ago.

She could even hear people's voices that carried on the wind. She could hear the occasional shout of laughter, warning, reprimand or boisterous conversation between friend and family.

And she was nervous.

She hadn't been back to Arkadia in years. She hadn't planned to go back for quite some time. So perhaps she hadn't really prepared herself for what it would feel like, for what she would see, for how much it had changed.

The small procession of warriors that had accompanied them all the way from the homestead sat atop their own horses as they waited at the forest's edge. Athena sat at the front, her back straight, the red of her sash glowing in the orange morning light. She seemed ethereal, statuesque and poised as she looked out at Arkadia, as she seemed to take in all that lay in front of her.

And Clarke felt unsure, unsure of her feelings, unsure of her memories. But she turned to her side, she looked at Alexandria who sat atop her own horse and she found herself smiling the smallest of smiles as their eyes met.

She saw wonder in Alexandria's gaze, she saw apprehension, curiosity and so many other emotions she could and could not place in that very moment. But her attention was pulled back forward to find the lone messenger sent ahead now approaching. The man brought his horse to a stop in front of Athena and bowed his head before quick words were shared between them.

Clarke didn't need to hear what was said to get the gist of the conversation. She saw him gesture in one direction and then towards the Mountain and she knew he spoke of where some of Arkadia's leadership were, where their daily duties had taken them. But whatever it was that had been said seemed not to bother Athena for she nodded, clicked her tongue and began to ride forward at an easy trot, her warriors quick to fall into line behind her.

Clarke looked at her mother who remained close to Athena. She could see the smallest amounts of tension in the way her mother sat atop her horse, she could tell she was thinking over what would need to be done for Agamemnon, to help him in whatever way he needed.

And Clarke found herself worrying, too. Worrying about things that might need to be done, worrying about things that could happen, plans that would need to be put in place, things that—

She shook her head, stamped down those thoughts that threatened to consume and she took in a steadying breath. There had been a reason why she left Arkadia, there had been a reason why she had sought out a quieter life.

And she was so very loathe to embrace her old habits too soon.

And so Clarke clicked her tongue as she joined those who had already fallen into line behind Athena on their way towards Arkadia and old memories.


The approach to Arkadia's gates filled Clarke with something between dread and a bittersweet longing. It had been so long that she felt more a stranger visiting a new destination than a traveller returning to an old haunt. She didn't realise she was chewing her lip until she tasted blood and she didn't realise she had been frowning until she felt the telltale signs of a headache that would soon become an unwanted companion.

It took her more effort than it should to steady herself atop River but steady herself she did. In that time she began to look at the faces of those they passed. She wondered if she would be recognised. She wondered if those would know who she was or if time had sheared away any familiarity from her face, from the lines that had etched themselves across her forehead, to the frown that seemed ever present at the corners of her mouth. Perhaps a greying hair or two even helped mask who she was, what she had become.

But Clarke turned away those thoughts of self worry, self doubt, and she found herself once more searching for Alexandria. She found her sitting atop her own horse, barely moving an inch as if she was afraid to shatter whatever mask she thought herself hidden behind. Clarke began to edge River closer, she tried not to disrupt those around her too much and she hoped it wasn't too obvious, too presumptuous of her to think she could provide some kind of comfort to Alexandria in her moment to unease.

But Alexandria turned towards her at her approach, the barest hints of a smile gracing her lips.

"How are you?" Clarke's voice was quiet in the early morning as the procession continued to wind its way towards the open gates of Arkadia.

Clarke watched as Alexandria took some time to consider what had been asked. She felt content, happy even, to wait, to give Alexandria any and all time to consider her question.

"I do not know," Alexandria said and her voice was perhaps tinged with the slightest of worries. Her lips parted as if she wished to speak but nothing came out for a moment or two, her mind perhaps uncertain, unable to even put to word whatever was rushing through her mind.

Perhaps by circumstance, perhaps because they had shared the briefest of glances, or perhaps by something more intimate, shared so deeply that it couldn't even be described, they both pulled aside from the procession a stone's throw from the gates of Arkadia.

Clarke ran a hand down River's neck and she took a moment to meet her mother's inquisitive look with a nod she hoped was reassuring before she turned her attention completely to Alexandria.

"We don't have to go in," Clarke said. It was partly said for Alexandria's sake, partly for her own.

Alexandria shifted in her saddle before she took in a breath that appeared to steady herself. When she looked back at Clarke she saw something more sure within her gaze, perhaps still hiding an uncertainty, but not so commanding than it had been moments before.

"I do not know what to think," Alexandria said eventually. "For so long I have lived at the homestead, away from those not aware of its existence, for their protection just as much as mine, as Eamon's and Agamemnon's."

Clarke didn't say anything, she wished not to interrupt whatever Alexandria needed to get off her chest.

"And now I find myself here," she shrugged a single shoulder, her voice still quiet lest it travel far or bring too much attention to who she was.

Clarke didn't think she'd ever be able to know exactly what Alexandria was feeling in that moment. She didn't think anyone ever really could. There were things that could make it dangerous for Alexandria, for her, for them both. She wouldn't even know how to go about addressing any problems that could have arisen.

But she didn't think she could settle for letting Alexandria feel lost, feel overwhelmed, unsure and unsafe.

"I haven't returned here in years," Clarke said quietly. "I'm sure I've mentioned it before," she let the corner of her mouth twitch up into something she thought was reassuring, comforting. "My home," she turned around in her saddle and pointed deep into the forests behind them. "It's about three day's ride that way," she said. "I—" she paused as she realised she hadn't quite considered what would have happened to it since she had come to live at the homestead. "I've lived there for years," she continued and she looked away briefly, her mind trying to figure out how to say what it was she wanted to say.

"It was your homestead," Alexandria offered just as quietly.

"Yeah," and Clarke smiled more fully as she met Alexandria's gaze. "When I first left Arkadia, when I first left this place," she gestured back towards the open gates, towards the procession of warriors who she could now see dismounting. "I didn't know how long I'd stay away for, how long I needed to clear my head, to find myself again," she said. "I kept telling myself that I'd go back home, that living alone was only temporary," and she smiled at a memory. "But I kept making that little cabin more comfortable, more homely. I added a stables when I got River," she patted her strong neck. "I added piping, with some help," and she paused to remember the struggles she had faced years ago. "I made a friend or two," she made a note to visit Petra at the trading post. "Eventually I realised that I had stopped thinking about home," Clarke shrugged. "Eventually I realised that going back to Arkadia didn't feel like coming home, but more like I was leaving home, leaving the life I had made for myself."

Clarke took in her own steadying breath and perhaps if she considered it long enough she thought the slightest of weights lift from her shoulders.

"What made you leave?"

The question surprised her, and as Clarke looked up at Alexandria she saw something in her eyes that she hadn't seen in so very long. It was an innocent question, or it should have been, but that teasing glint in Alexandria's eyes reminded her of a conversation so long ago, when they had both been atop horses just as they were now. Their destination had even been the same.

Clarke couldn't help suppress the chuckle that escaped her lips and from the way Alexandria's head cocked to the side and an eyebrow lifted she knew she had piqued her interest.

"I was reminded of something," Clarke said, and for a moment to considered changing the topic, of lying to save Alexandria some kind of perceived discomfort. But for some reason Clarke thought them both ready, or at least willing to push back against old memories, old fears, old barriers that had long since been erected. "It was a memory of both of us," she said it slowly, her gaze keen enough that she knew Alexandria would know she would drop it, change the topic if she desired.

"Continue," Alexandria said, her voice perhaps just a little cautious, just a little curious.

"We were on our way to Arkadia," Clarke said, and she knew Alexandria recognised the comparison to the situation they were now in. "You had just killed the Queen of Azgeda," Clarke didn't try to stifle the shudder that went through her body at the memory of how tense she had been during that fight.

But at that Alexandria's eyebrow lifted a fraction, the statement unintentionally a revelation Clarke hadn't considered.

"She deserved it," Clarke added quickly, though she didn't know if she wanted to elaborate or expand on the why of Alexandria's actions.

Alexandria took that in stride and simply nodded her head.

"What happened next?" again Alexandria's question was cautious yet open to know more.

"I—" Clarke found herself thinking back, trying to remember exactly what the conversation had been about. And she laughed, not intentionally, but it was something more free as she realised that very same conversation shared between them years ago had echoed the one they had had just moments passed. "We were talking about the same thing," Clarke said. "I hadn't been back to Arkadia in so long that I didn't think of it as home anymore," she looked up at the sign above the gates, at the letters that spelt its name. "Before Arkadia it was called the Ark, when we were up in space," and she gestured upwards as if she could reach out into the fading stars overhead. "I don't remember exactly what was said," she shrugged just a little. "But I remember the feelings," and she sighed as she began to remember the horrors that had soon followed.

"There were bad emotions, too," Alexandria said quietly, her ability to read her not lost on Clarke.

"Yeah," and Clarke looked Alexandria in the eyes more fully. "Things changed after that," she bit her lip only to wince at the blood she had drawn earlier from the exact same motions.

"I am sorry, Clarke."

She met Alexandria's eyes and she found herself thinking that Alexandria truly was sorry for whatever things had transpired, for whatever emotions she must have been letting show.

"Don't be," Clarke said. "It's not your fault," she didn't know when exactly she had begun speaking as if Alexandria remembered the things that had happened between them long ago. Months earlier, when they had first met she was sure what she had just said would have made her wince, would have made her want to backtrack, to apologise, to change the topic. And though there was still the slightest hints of caution, as she looked at her, and as Alexandria continued to hold her gaze, she found herself feeling just a little more at ease.

"Perhaps we should join the others?" Alexandria inclined her head towards the last of the warriors who still lingered by the open gates to Arkadia.

"Yeah," and Clarke smiled, the expression quiet, cautious. Content.


Athena stood, back straight, a hand clenched tightly around the hilt of her sword. She stood outside Arkadia's medbay doors, the bright light of its tech casting her in a sheer wash of cold light. She had grown used to the tech, to the way it never seemed natural. But growing accustomed to its presence need not mean she enjoy it.

She sighed as her gaze flit between the shielded silhouette of Agamemnon and Abby, both of them hidden behind a large fabric sheet. She didn't know how long it would take for Abby to finish with Agamemnon, she didn't even know what it was exactly that the healer was doing. But she wouldn't question, wouldn't delve too closely. She knew Abby wouldn't tell her, and she also respected the woman's position enough to know not to push, not to try to force upon her a set of rules and dictates that would clash and do nothing but cause problem and headache.

And so Athena would wait, she would stand by and she would let her mind continue to run rampant with worry as she tried to think of how to take the next steps she needed to take.

"Commander Athena," she turned at the sound of her name to find Marcus Kane standing a short distance behind her, his hands clasped in front of him, two of her warriors standing behind him.

"Kane," she said as she gestured for him to approach.

"I didn't know you were coming," he said, voice a touch tired.

"I did not wish to make my presence too much of an inconvenience," she said.

Kane smiled slightly at that as he stood by her side, his gaze clearly focused through the windows of the medbay door and towards where Abby and Agamemnon remained hidden.

"We would have prepared for your arrival," he said.

"Yes," Athena answered with a single shrug of her shoulder. "It was not needed this time."

They remained silent for quite some time then but despite the silence Athena found herself enjoying Kane's company. She appreciated the fact that he didn't ask, never really tried to pry too much about the things she did. There had been far too many amongst Skaikru that could have taken power that would have caused the coalition more heartache than their sudden appearance already did.

But eventually Kane spoke, the question expected, respectful but straightforward.

"How long will you be staying?"

"I am unsure," she answered, her gaze settling back upon Agamemnon as she heard him cough through the door. "As long as is needed."

"The Mountain has more facilities we can prepare if it's needed," Kane offered quietly, "whatever Abby needs I can send word to get ready."

"Yes," Athena said with a single nod. "That would be appreciated."

With that Kane bowed his head before beginning to walk away to leave her alone once more. Athena took a moment to look back at the shadow of Agamemnon and Abby talking behind the curtain before she took in a deep breath.

She held it for a long time, perhaps to feel the burn in her lungs, perhaps simply because she could. When she exhaled she did so with as much control and purpose as she could muster. She imagined the breath that left her lungs was her worry, her anxiousness, her fears and her uncertainties.

There was no turning back, no changing course. She had taken the first step of many steps of bringing her people into the future, into something she could build upon, that the next Commander could use as foundation to a dream she may never even see with her living eyes. But it was something Athena had dreamt of for years now, something that she had warred with for longer than she cared to admit.

Part of her didn't even know if that desire, that hope, that ambition, was hers, or if it was Lexa's, if it was some other Commander's, if it was all of their hopes and dreams built upon each other and passed down from Commander to Commander.

Sometimes not knowing made her want to scream, sometimes not knowing made her feel small, inconsequential.

But sometimes it didn't.

And for why, she didn't know.

Perhaps she would never kno—

She felt a presence standing next to her, its appearance subtle, quiet, barely there. She knew she could dismiss, turn it away, not embrace the offer should she wish not to.

But maybe companionship, closeness, someone who could understand, would help in that very moment.

And so she smiled quietly as Clarke came to stand beside her.

"I miss her," Clarke said, her voice perhaps a little sad, perhaps a little full of longing. "When she's so close, I miss her more than I thought I would."

Athena didn't know what to say in answer.

"Do you wish to speak with her?" Athena asked as she turned to face Clarke.

"No," and Clarke shook her head before looking away as if to hide the pain in her eyes. "No, it would only make things worse, it would only hurt her to know I'm with you in the flame," she looked back. "It's ok," Clarke said with a smile. "She has Clarke."

"You are as much her daughter as Clarke is," Athena countered.

Clarke didn't answer her, perhaps because she didn't know what to say, or perhaps because she didn't have anything to say. Whatever the reason, Athena wouldn't push, wouldn't pry. It wasn't her place.

And yet she wanted to bring to Clarke the comfort Clarke's presence had brought to her.

"She would be proud of you, of who you have become, of how you have grown with the flame. Of how you guide me."

Clarke's gaze remained focused on her mother through the curtain, her expression tinged with emotion, her lip perhaps just barely trembling as memories seemingly flooded her mind.

But then she sighed, shook her head and seemed to clear those thoughts away with a strength Athena had grown to admire, to aspire to hold. To love.

Clarke laughed then, the sound half choked, full of emotion as she wiped her hand across her eyes to clear her vision.

"I was trying to help you," Clarke said bashfully as she sniffled just once. "Now look at me."

Athena reached out and took her hand in hers and squeezed it tightly, perhaps to reassure her, perhaps to steady herself. And perhaps simply because she wished to know that Clarke's pain was her pain, that it was understood just as much as Clarke understood her worries, her own uncertainties and fears.

"Do you want to walk?" Clarke asked with a steadying breath.

"Where, Clarke?"

"Nowhere in particular," Clarke answered with a shrug. "Just walk. Wherever our feet take us."

Athena took a moment to think.

And in that moment she couldn't think of anything more she would like to do than to share Clarke's company, to ease her pain, to lessen her burden.

And so both of them turned and began to walk away from the medbay, the company they shared between them silent, comfortable, full of understanding that no one else would ever be able to grasp.

And for a moment in a life Athena had never asked for, she felt at ease. And she hoped she helped Clarke as much as Clarke had helped her.