There was silence for a moment, long enough that it threatened to become awkward, long enough that Alexandria thought she hadn't been heard. So many thoughts flit through her mind, so many scenarios, so many possibilities and unknowns that seemed somewhere between the cruel and the unkind, the gentle and the too subtle.

She took the time to take measure of the woman who stood in front of her though. The woman seemed close in age to her, but there was a depth, an age, a wisdom in her eyes that Alexandria could see. Perhaps it was because the woman continued to stare at her with such intensity, perhaps it was because the woman seemed to be looking at her as if she saw a ghost, as if she was looking into the past as much as she was living in the present.

Wrinkles just barely visible touched the corners of her eyes, wrinkles brushed across her forehead and Alexandria could tell the woman had lived a life full of scowls, of furrowed brows, of frowning and frustration. And yet there was a lightness, something that seemed to have flourished in spite of those weights, something that had come to learn to live with and to accept whatever pains her past had bestowed upon her.

"My name is Clarke," the woman said quietly, and Alexandria's gaze snapped back to the woman's.

Her eyes, ever piercing, ever unwavering, were blue, deep, so rich and gentle that it made her skin crawl.

But that name was one Alexandria had heard before. Those who had rarely visited her homestead had mentioned a Clarke — Wanheda — someone who had crashed to the ground in a ball of flame, who had rid the lands of the Mountain and who had survived turmoil and war.

That accent was odd, too. It wasn't something Alexandria had ever heard before. It seemed at times similar, at times unknown, but it drew her in as much as it made her want to recoil.

"You are Wanheda," Alexandria said. It was the only thing she could think to say. She still didn't know why Athena had allowed Wanheda to visit, she didn't know why she had allowed someone other than natblida into the most secret of sanctuaries. And yet Athena had, and Alexandria thought that Athena's reasonings would be guarded as much as the memories the new Commander now possessed.

But perhaps, as Alexandria continued to look Wanheda in the eyes, she realised that she had been brought to the homestead for exactly the same reason she, Eamon and Agamemnon had. Perhaps she was tired of living with the responsibilities of Wanheda. Alexandria wouldn't blame her if that was the case. The Commander of Death was a title rarely bestowed on others, and with it came so much expectation that eventually most would break.

And so she nodded to herself, if only because that was the only reason for Wanheda's appearance that made sense to her.

And yet Wanheda still looked at her with as much intensity as she was seemingly able to muster. Alexandria wasn't a fool, she knew she must have met Wanheda when she had the flame, she knew she must have worked with her to take down the Mountain, she knew they must have worked together to calm the turmoil of Azgeda. And perhaps that was why Wanheda looked at her the way she did. Perhaps the shock of seeing an old ghost alive and well was enough to put her into the state she was. What other explanation could there be?

Alexandria watched as Wanheda looked away, as she bit her lip as if to contemplate what she wanted to say. But then she looked back at her and her eyes seemed a little more guarded, a little more careful, a little more broken.

"We knew each other," Wanheda said eventually. "A long time ago," and her voice was quiet, it was careful, so very unlike what Alexandria would have ever expected from the Commander of Death.

Alexandria didn't really know what to say to that. If only because it was so very strange to be faced with someone who remembered her as who she had once been. She wondered if Wanheda saw a broken woman, a pathetic woman, someone so very undeserving of whatever admirations her legacy had forged during her reign as Heda.

Perhaps it was Alexandria's turn to speak, perhaps it was her turn to try to gleam some of the past.

And so Alexandria spoke.

"We fought together at the fall of the Mountain," it came more observation than question. More assumption than guess.

Wanheda smiled something between the sad and the bitter, the happy and the longing. It conveyed so much emotion, so many memories that Alexandria knew, she knew there had to be more.

"Yeah," and Wanheda shrugged a shoulder awkwardly. "We did."

Alexandria looked at Eamon then, perhaps for help for she didn't know what else to say, perhaps in an attempt to get him to explain at least more of the situation then she had been able to decipher. But Eamon seemed less inclined to help for he simply reclined back in his chair, head cocked to the side slightly as he took in whatever it was that he must have been seeing.

Alexandria's eyes snapped to Athena at that moment for she realised that she had not spoken, had not done anything in the last few minutes but look at her with something close to pain hidden behind her green eyes. She didn't like the way she could see something in Athena's gaze, she didn't like the fact that Athena must have been reliving whatever it was that Wanheda hadn't quite said, and Alexandria so very much disliked the simple truth of the matter.

And that truth was that she didn't know what she didn't know.

"I have fish," it came out more lame then Alexandria intended, but she didn't quite know how else to break the subtle awkwardness that had begun to settle around her. "It will spoil if I do not prepare it."

That seemed to snap Athena out of her silence for she stood quietly, her gaze flicking to Wanheda briefly before coming back to her.

"Eamon," Athena said, her voice crisp. "I wish to speak with you."

Alexandria swallowed the unnoticed lump in her throat as she watched Eamon's eyebrow raise slightly before he stood from his chair and moved towards the front door. The abrupt awkwardness lingered for only a moment longer before Athena, Eamon and Brutus slipped past her and out into the heat of the late morning.

And with that Alexandria found herself standing alone in the place she had called home for a decade with a stranger standing before her.

"Do you like it?" Wanheda asked quietly after the front door closed.

Alexandria's head tilted to the side in confusion as she wondered what Wanheda meant—

"Fishing," Wanheda added after the pause as she gestured to the basket still slung over her shoulder.

"Ah," Alexandria flinched at her response, if only because she found herself trying to consider so many things that had happened in the last few minutes. "Yes, Wanheda," she said as she began moving towards the kitchen bench. "I do," she didn't really know what else to say, but she noticed Wanheda flinch just a bit at the title she had used.

That reaction didn't surprise Alexandria though. She knew most bestowed with that honour would sooner forget all that the title reminded them of then they would relive it each time it was uttered.

"Please," Wanheda said. "Clarke," and the slight smile that lifted the corner of her lips seemed a little more pained than it wanted to be. "Call me Clarke."

Though she meant to walk straight to the kitchen bench, Alexandria came to a pause in front of her, she paused for a moment, the distance between them something too distant to be familiar, too close to be comfortable, and yet there was something in the way Wanheda — in the way Clarke continued to look at her, there was something in the way Clarke didn't shy away from her as she paused.

"Clarke," Alexandria didn't mean to say her name so quietly, but she did for she found herself looking Clarke in the eyes as intently as she would watch her prey as it swam through the river. She tried to see more, she tried to find answer to question and shape to unseen object that lay just out of reach of her memories.

"I never thought I'd see you again, Le—" Clarke paused, she bit her lip and she looked away and Alexandria was sure she sensed Clarke reprimand herself. "Alexandria."

Her name seemed to roll off Clarke's tongue with as much experimentation as Clarke's had rolled off hers. But behind the uncertainty, behind the awkward unknowns, Alexandria could tell there was something in the way Clarke looked at her.

"I—" Alexandria didn't really know what to say in answer to that. It was so very clear that they had known each other long ago. "You have met Eamon," it was safe, it was simple, it kept the conversation away from the past and somewhere closer to what was known to her.

"Yeah," Clarke said, and again there was that odd accent, that odd way of speaking that didn't quite seem familiar to her. "Just briefly— just now," and Alexandria nodded to herself as she walked past Clarke and to the kitchen bench, the basket of fish beginning to weigh heavily on her shoulders.

Alexandria took a moment to collect her thoughts as she shrugged off the basket and let it settle atop the kitchen bench. She didn't let herself look up at Clarke who remained standing awkwardly aside, she didn't know why. Perhaps it was to avoid that piercing gaze, perhaps it was to avoid whatever ghosts seemed to exist in the woman's eyes. And perhaps it was because she simply had no idea of how to react or respond at all.

But eventually Alexandria felt herself forced to look up at Clarke and she took a moment to let the silence linger, she took a moment to let it settle around them. It was simple, really. There were unknowns that needed to be answered, things that needed to be discovered, pasts that for all intents and purpose should remain sealed yet were being offered to her. Alexandria didn't know why it was happening now. She didn't know why Athena had seen fit to allow such an unholy transgression take place. And yet it had.

"We were friends," Alexandria said and she felt Clarke's gaze drill into her with such intensity, with such conviction, with such emotion.

"Yeah," it came out something of a breath, it came out somewhere between a laugh and a sob, a broken utterance and a quiet prayer. "I guess you could say that."

But Alexandria was no fool. Not after everything that had happened in her life.

And so it didn't come as a surprise to Alexandria when she realised that she and Clarke must have been so very much more.